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xxsabitoxx · 1 year

Text

I still do it better

Obanai x Mitsuri x Fem! Reader

Sequel to I can do it better

Warnings: rough sex, face sitting, cunnilingus, come eating, unprotected sex, creampies, marking and bruising, degrading, praising, overstimulation, consensual restraining, spitting, biting, breast play, scissoring, group sex, threesome, idk man a lot is going on I’m not gonna lie lmfao

Note: here we go! The long awaited part two. Hope y’all enjoy & I apologize if it doesn’t meet your expectations… this is why I kinda hate sequels I can’t lie 😭

The paragraph lengths vary in size because I had to break them up. They were initially massive paragraphs and I know damn well nobody is gonna want to read all that… so I had to break them up a bit half-hazardously

Word count: 10.5k

Your fingers trailed along your thighs, the small crescent shape bruises were nearly faded. For some reason, that made you feel a bit sad. It had been nearly a week since your encounter with the love and serpent pillars and nearly everyday that had passed since had felt as if you weren’t even there. You pulled yourself from your daze, turning to test the warmth of the bath water that you had been waiting on. You set your robes to the side, letting your body sink into the water and relishing in it as if it were a warm embrace.

You flinched at your own thoughts, you had been feeling utterly touch starved. You were silently longing for their warm bed once again, the soft touch of Mitsuri at your back, the warm breath of Obanai fanning across your shoulder. What got you the most is that you were missing him just as much as you were missing her. Not a day had gone by that your mind didn’t linger on that night. You had initially been so scared of it, the rough treatment Obanai bestowed upon you, the way Mitsuri seemingly cheered him on.

Part of you was mortified that you had enjoyed it so thoroughly. Now, you were aching to be treated like that for a second time. You craved the taste of her arousal, the feeling of his hands on you. They had unintentionally ruined you. You sunk lower in the water, not stopping until it reached just below your nose. You couldn’t believe yourself, betrayed by your own thoughts several times while trying to go about your day to day life. You had no concept of how to bring it up again, the physical reminders left on your skin wouldn’t let you forget.

Yet, part of you was aching for more, not quite satisfied with the marks that remained. You wanted more, from both parties. But above all else, you wanted to prove your worth. You wanted to convince Obanai you were worthy of his cum. Your legs kicked in the water, eyes squeezing shut as you came to the conclusion that you’d simply be plagued with these thoughts until you did something about them. Laying alone in your bed after had been the worst part. Having to drag yourself from their warm home and back to your empty quiet one felt like a death sentence.

“You really don’t have to leave just yet.” Mitsuri was worrying around you, fixing your hair neatly after you refused the offer of a bath. You wanted to wash your skin yourself, not create some fantasy that you’d stay here forever. “I’m fine, really Mitsuri. I need to get back in case I’m summoned for a mission.” You waved her off, thanking her quietly after she finished your hair. “Are you sure? You really don’t want to stay longer? We wouldn’t mind.” Obanai didn’t interject, instead he remained quiet as he began wrapping his face once more on the far side of the room.

He had been awfully quiet since waking up, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence like you were used to. “I appreciate the offer. I truly do. But I have to get back to my own home.” Your hands fidgeted in your lap, moving to stand with a slight limp. “You can’t even walk properly, please stay. Let us help you… it’s the least we could do.” You felt warmth spread across your face, especially since you caught Obanai chuckling softly. “Mitsuri please, if she wants to leave, let her leave.” You didn’t want to leave, but you knew if you stayed you’d fall in deep and never recover.

Little did you know the damage was already done. “Alright… but if you need us, you know where to find us.” Mitsuri’s hands fell to her kimono, fidgeting because she couldn’t quite figure out how to say goodbye. It was a one time thing, there were no strings attached from it. At least that’s what you told yourself as you bowed to them, stepping off their front porch and heading back the way you had come. It was a one time thing, nothing more. It repeated like a mantra as you limped back, face holding on to the embarrassed warmth as you tried your damn hardest to not look like you had just got your ass handed to you. “Damn him.”

You pushed yourself up, the bath water sloshing dangerously close to the edge. “What the hell am I going to do?” you whined to no one, your voice bouncing off the walls and right back at you. It felt like you were being taunted at this point, like the universe was waiting to see how long you would take to crack. You had to wonder what would happen if you just gave in. What if you just dragged your sorry ass back to their estate and begged for a second round… a rematch.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” you rubbed your face, trying your hardest to ignore the slow throb between your legs as your mind betrayed you yet again. “You’re a great stress reliever.” Obanai’s words lingered, probably a lot longer than they should have. The various things he had said to you felt as if they had been engraved on your skin. “Stay still and he’ll stop.” Mitsuri’s voice echoed softly, the gentle scrape of her nails on the back of your skull. Every time you close your eyes, you see them. “This has to be some sort of curse. Maybe Shinobu has something she could give me that will make me forget.”

Forget about the ache of wanting to people who would never want you back. You got out of the bath, not quite able to enjoy it the way you hoped you would be able to. The water ran off of you in rivets, the steam of the room was warm enough to not draw a shiver from you as you reached for a towel to dry yourself off. It was as if your body moved on autopilot, dressing yourself in one of your finer kimonos. It was a risky move, but you couldn’t keep going on like this without at least trying. Your fingers trailed along your face, head tilting left and right to make sure your hair looked alright.

You reached for your perfumed oils, dabbing a bit on your pulse points. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if putting on a bit of makeup would be too much. In the end you decided against it, you’d head out as you were. The worst that could happen would be rejection, then maybe you’d be able to move on. “It’s nearly 10pm, showing up at their home at this time will make me seem insane.” Yet, you were still stepping off your porch and into the moonlight, a clear destination in your mind. You sighed, knowing there was also the chance that neither of them may be home.

It was night after all, they could be patrolling their sectors and not be home till morning. Then, you’d feel like an absolute desperate idiot for doing this. Yet, the off chance that things would fall perfectly into place started propelling you further. The walk itself wasn’t a long one, you had come to find that you only lived about fifteen minutes from the two pillar’s estate. Thinking back on it, you only found your way home because of Mitsuri’s crow guiding you. How it knew your coordinates you’d never know, especially since Mitsuri had never been to your home. That, however, was a question for another day.

You steadied your breathing as the trees grew few and far between, eventually leading to the open space that their shared estate resides on. The estate itself was large, not as large as the butterfly estate but still quite spacious. A simple stone pathway leads up to the large roofed porch and double doors that would grant you entrance. You had to admire the amount of work Mitsuri put into her home, various wild flowers were planted along the pathway. You kept moving, slightly motivated by the various windows that held the light of glowing candles. It seems the two pillars were home, honestly it sent a chill of anxiety down your spine. Things had been so much easier when Mitsuri was the one initiating everything.

You stopped just before the small set of stairs leading up to the door, the quiet rustle of fabric making the hair on the back of your neck prickle. “Are you trying to scare the shit out of me, Obanai?” Your jaw clenched after speaking, a lame attempt at acting tough when in truth he’d scared the shit out of you. “Good to know you have some sort of spatial awareness.” He emerged from the shadows a moment later, still dressed in his corps uniform with Kaburamaru still sitting around his neck. You bit your tongue, scrunching your nose in disdain as he gave you a once over. “I noticed you as I was walking home, took a shortcut to beat you here.'' He looked almost smug about it, arms moving to cross his chest as he waited for you to say something.

“Oh so you’ve just finished patrolling for the night? I guess you’ll be of no use for what I came here for… Mitsuri’s home though, right?” You moved up the stairs, freezing when his arm shot out to prevent you from making it to the door. “That’s a sharp tongue for someone who’s trying to enter my house.” you glanced down at his arm before looking back up at him. “It’s the truth… I did come here for your girlfriend after all… not you.” You couldn’t see it, but you could just tell there was a shit eating grin creeping up his face. “You’re such a fucking liar.” you forced your expression to remain neutral, you knew you were a liar but you had hoped he wouldn’t see straight through you. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Kaburamaru hissed softly, reaching out to look at you better.

“Even Kaburamaru knows you’re full of shit.” Obanai’s hand moved to mockingly allow you entrance, pointing to the front door. “But if you’re so determined, go ahead and enter. I’m sure Mitsuri will be thrilled to see you.” There was a catch, you could tell by the glint in his eyes. There was something he knew that you didn’t. You stepped tentatively, pausing as your hand reached for the knob. “Go on, since you’re so desperate for her, there should be nothing holding you back.” The bite in his tone, everything you did that so much as pissed him off would only come around to bite you later.

That’s what it was, you realized quickly as you pushed on the knob and entered. He was observing your every move to use against you. “Obanai? That you?” Mitsuri’s voice echoed through the entryway, “Yeah, it’s me. We have a guest.” The rustle of cloth was followed by footsteps. “A guest?” Pink hair rounded the corner a moment later. Mitsuri’s hair was down, holding a faint wave from her three braids she typically wore. She was dressed in her sleepwear, the front of her kimono dangerously low and exposing her breasts. “I was just getting ready for bed. I didn't think we–Y/N!?”she stopped rubbing her eyes, blinking in surprise as she looked you over.

“Y-yeah, it’s me. If you were getting ready for bed then I can go…” You stopped mid-step backwards as Obanai’s hand grabbed your upper arm. “No! No it’s no trouble at all…I uhm…I assume…” Mitsuri’s face was steadily turning pink, apparently it was too obvious to everyone as to why you had hauled yourself over here. “She’s here for the reason you think, lovely. Seems she can’t stop thinking about you… though she claims to want nothing to do with me.” Obanai’s grip tightened, duo-tone eyes watching Mitsuri’s shift between the two of you.

“O-oh I see… well…” You could see the slight disappointment in her gaze, you wanted to turn and slap the serpent pillar for making you seem like a complete asshole. “That’s not true!” you swallowed your pride, even though it was literally the last thing you wanted to do. There was no point and no fun in any of this if Mitsuri was uncomfortable by the idea of you wanting nothing to do with her boyfriend. “Oh, It’s not?” Obanai jeered, he needed to hear you say it. “You’re such a dick, though I’m sure you know that…'' you glanced at Mitsuri, not able to hold Obanai’s gaze as you spoke.

“I-I came here because I can’t stop thinking about either of you. If you’re willing…I’d like to do it all again.” Heat flooded your body from head to toe, primarily in your ears. Neither spoke, for a moment you had to question if you’d crossed a line. “You would? Really?” Mitsuri’s eyes seemed to regain their sparkle, hands clasping excitedly in front of her. “Y-yes… if you’d have me… both of you.” Obanai should have known you’d turn into nothing more than a timid kitten when in Mitsuri’s presence. He couldn’t necessarily say he blamed you for it. As kind as she was, she was someone you didn’t want to upset or disappoint.

“Of course we’ll have you. Come along, let’s go upstairs, we can discuss more there.” Mitsuri’s hand reached for your own, Obanai’s grip letting you go as she dragged you towards the stairs. He stayed behind for a moment, watching Mitsuri practically hauled you up the stairs in her own haste. He had expected you to return a lot quicker than you did, for a moment he almost found himself impressed by your will to resist your desires. “Obanai?” Mitsuri’s voice pulled him from his daze, “Coming, I was just taking off my shoes.” his sandals were kicked off a moment later, Kaburamaru hissing softly. “Yes, I know. I’ll give you your dinner in a moment.”

“He’ll take a moment, he has to put Kaburamaru to bed. For now, make yourself comfortable.” The sleepiness the love pillar had felt was long since forgotten, replaced by a bubbling heat and shiver of excitement. There had been so many things she wanted to do, so many things that she had thought about doing since you had left that day. She had even considered going over to your estate only a few days after the fact to ask you if you’d like to do it all again. Obanai had convinced her otherwise, saying it was better if you came to them since they were the ones to go to you first.

He was certain you’d come back, though Mitsuri couldn’t really figure out why he was so sure of it. “You look beautiful.” Mitsuri smiled as she looked you over. “Oh-thank you… you look beautiful as well.” You hoped it looked effortless, as effortless as Mitsuri looked. Though something about the smile on her face told you she knew you had put a little bit of time into your appearance before coming over. “You’re so cute, y/n-chan. You’re trying so hard to not seem flustered but I see right through you.” She sauntered across the room, not stopping until she stood right before you. One motion and you knew she wanted you to open your legs, allowing her closer.

“You’re desperate aren’t you? It’s okay to admit it…” she reached to hold your face, holding you so you couldn’t look away from her. “… I am too.” “Y-you are?” You weren’t sure why you felt so vulnerable, part of you felt like you were a bother for coming over. “Of course I am, I’ve been thinking about you since you left last week. I wanted to go after you the moment you disappeared from our sight. I even had my crow follow you to make sure you got home alright.” Her thumb was brushing your cheek bone, green eyes scanning every inch of your features. “That so?” Your voice was just above a whisper, hoarse with desire. Her gentle reassurance quickly had your doubt melting away, replacing it with the desire that had driven you to this point.

“Of course it’s so.” Obanai was standing in the doorway, his haori discarded somewhere out of your sight. “Mitsuri…and I… were concerned about you. You left quickly after all, you never gave us a chance to discuss things with you.” “Discuss things…?” You glanced between the two pillars. “Yes, a lot happened, you know. And you were scurrying out the door… I should say limping out the door…” Mitsuri shot him a look, one that had him throwing his hands in his defense. “…anyways. I didn’t take it easy on you, then you were quick to leave after. Would have been nice if you stuck around to at least assure me you enjoyed yourself. I may treat you like a dick but I’m not heartless.” He stepped into the room, making his way to the vanity table Mitsuri had set up. “So, before we do anything… Did you enjoy yourself last time? Anything you’d like to do differently this time?” He began to unwrap his bandages, Mitsuri’s hands gently guided you back to looking at her. “Well, y/n? Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I… of course I did. I mean I was a bit overwhelmed at first but… I enjoyed it a lot. I… wouldn't have you do anything differently… honestly.” Your eyes squeezed shut as you uttered the last words, finally admitting to yourself more so than them that you did, in fact, enjoy the rough treatment. “That’s good to hear, though it would have been better to hear it a week ago.” Mitsuri let go of your cheek as Obanai spoke, stepping away from you with a small smile. Your head turned to look at the serpent pillar, face growing warm as you observed his unmasked face. Even in the dull glow of the candle light his scars stuck out. His eyebrows raised subtly, as if he was surprised to see you staring. You looked away quickly, chewing on your inner cheek in a failed attempt at not being embarrassed for getting caught.

“Well, if we’re all on the same page… why don’t we give it another go?” Mitsuri was shouldering off her kimono as she spoke, an innocent smile plastered to her face as her breasts spilled out of the top. There was something almost comical about the way both you and Obanai’s eyes zeroed in on her breasts, as if she were dangling candy in front of a baby. “Y-yeah… another go sounds good…” your skin prickled with desire, hands coming down to pull at the belt that kept your kimono in place. You stood a little quicker than you intended, the garment falling apart half hazardously as you tried to shoulder it off. “Eager… how cute.” Mitsuri was in front of you a moment later, helping you tug the garments off as Obanai observed quietly as he did before.

He loved to let Mitsuri take the lead, obediently waiting for her green light to do as he pleased. He didn’t mind it in the slightest, especially not when he was watching two women undress each other. His arms came to cross over his chest again, falling to lean back against the wall. You took the opportunity to close the distance, crashing your lips to Mitsuri’s and swallowing the noises of surprise she made. Your hands found her breasts easily, kneading the soft flesh for a moment before you moved closer, pressing your chest to hers. The noises of approval, her hands on your bare waist as your kimono fell in a heap on the floor, every motion causing your confidence to soar. “…bed.” It was breathless, saliva connecting your lips even after separating.

You let her go, dropping back to your spot on the edge of the bed. “Perfect… Now lay back.” You did as she asked, propping yourself on your elbows to watch her bend down to toss both of your kimonos to the side. “Obanai… you’ll do as I ask, right?” Your gaze shifted between the two, the smile on his face was enough to make your heart skip. “Of course.” It was almost effortless, as if the two had discussed things prior to your arrival. “Good.” Mitsuri was crawling onto the bed a moment later, arms and legs caging you in as she smiled down at you. “Lay back fully, no need for you to be up at all.” Again, you did as she instructed, completely enthralled by her and her closeness. “You did such a good job last time, eating me out and such…” you swallowed, eyes widening as your hazy brain began connecting the dots.

“I want you to do it again… just a different position this time. If that’s alright?” You blinked a few times, “you’re asking if it's alright to sit on my face?” You needed to hear her say it, not just imply it. Mitsuri’s face warmed considerably at your bluntness. “That’s exactly what I’m asking.” Yet she didn’t miss a beat. “Then, yes. Absolutely it’s alright.” There was no point in hiding your eagerness, not when your entire body seemed to throb with the desire to please her… and to please yourself. “Good girl…” the sudden praise sent a shiver through you, hands reaching to find purchase on her thighs as she crawled further up your body. “Real quick before we start… one tap on my thigh signals that you’re doing good when I ask. Two taps means you need to pause… three means you can’t breathe and need me to get up. Simple enough?”

This was a new side of Mitsuri, a side that took charge when Obanai wasn’t in the mix just yet. You loved it. “Yes, that’s simple enough.” You swore you heard Obanai chuckle at your obedience. Then again you couldn’t be annoyed when Mitsuri’s cunt was just inches from your face. “Alright then…” you swallowed again, watching as Mitsuri pushed herself up one last time. Plush thighs caged your head, Mitsuri’s cunt was hovering just above your face now. “Sit… please.” You begged softly, all too eager to feel her soft thighs squeeze your head. Mitsuri chuckled softly but lowered herself down just as you asked. Your tongue darted out immediately, licking fat stripes up her folds until they were slick with your saliva. Your nails dug into the soft plush of her thighs, dragging her down further as you lapped at her entrance.

The angle itself caused your nose to bump her clit every few passes, but created the perfect position to edge her for a while. Soft noises escaped the woman above you, her hips rocking ever so slight against your eager tongue. You drew the first moan from her when you tilted just enough to graze her clit with your tongue. Her warmth was intoxicating, making you feel warm all over as you licked and sucked at her cunt. Tentatively you prodded her entrance, collecting the taste of her arousal on your tongue as her head fell back. “You’re so good at this…” the feeling of her hands threading through your hair sent you into overdrive, tongue moving even quicker against her dripping cunt. The longer you worked on her the more prominent the throb between your own legs became.

“Spread your legs for me, please…” she moaned softly, hand reaching back to tap the flesh of your thigh. You spread them effortlessly and without hesitation, shivering as your cunt was revealed to the cooler air of the room. You were wet, embarrassingly so at this point. After only a few minutes of eating her out, you were dripping and needy. You weren’t quite sure what she was planning, considering she went back to gripping your hair and moaning praises as you worked. You nearly forgot about it after a minute, especially as Mitsuri’s first orgasm hit her at full speed. “O-oh fuck…” she yelped, hips jerking agaisnt your unrelenting tongue until she pulled herself up just a bit. You could catch your breath for a moment before tugging her desperately back down… she wasn’t going to deny you after all.

You tilted your chin upwards again, angling yourself to lick and suck at her already sensitive clit. Her whimpers and moans were all you could hear over the muffling of her thighs caging your head. When you felt something wet and warm on your own cunt, it came as a complete surprise. The noise that left you proved it, Mitsuri’s laughter following. “Don’t worry… it’s just Obanai.” You figured that much but the realization that his tongue was on your pussy was enough to freeze you up for a moment, mind drawing a blank. You tapped twice, shock causing you to need a moment so you could gasp for air. Mitsuri lifted herself, smiling down at you as Obanai’s hands gripped the flesh of your thighs, keeping them spread. “Don’t tell me you can’t handle this…” Obanai’s mouth was hovering your cunt, eyes trailing over your breasts and further up to taken in Mitsuri’s ass and back. “You caught her by surprise.”

Mitsuri spoke for you, rather likely the way your pupils seemed to dilate in response. Obanai made a noise of disinterest before lowering again, tongue slipping between your folds to prod at your clit. A shaky gasp left you, body feeling so warm you swore you’d melt into a puddle. You dragged Mitsuri back down, needing to feel her weight back on you. It was almost comforting in an odd way. You lapped at her cunt the best you could, a wet mess of your saliva and her arousal covered your chin. All the while Obanai was teasing your entrance with one finger, mouth suctioned to your aching clit. He was relentless, just like last time, not giving you any moment to adjust by starting off rough and fast.

You could already feel the familiar tension building, everything was too much, making you too sensitive. The moment he curled that one finger your thighs shook, but it wasn’t enough to push you over the edge. He knew that, which is why he kept doing it. The goosebumps that prickled your skin were a dead giveaway to him. So he didn’t adjust whatsoever, instead he dangled your orgasm right out of your reach. Every thrust of his finger had arousal dripping out of you, wetter and wetter as his saliva covered your cunt. You tried your best to keep up, the awkward angle making it a bit hard to do exactly what you wanted.

So, you tapped her thigh twice. “You okay?” She cooed softly, chest heaving as she had been just seconds away from coming a second time. “Yeah but…” you moaned as Obanai added a second finger, laughing softly at your reaction. “Can you turn around? Sit on my face the other direction.” It would be much easier for you if she could do that. “Oh? Sure…” Mitsuri moved herself around, locking eyes with Obanai as she did. He pulled away from your cunt, mouth and chin shining with your arousal. “Hey pretty.” You sucked in a breath, not used to the tender voice he was using with her.

Mitsuri giggled softly, moving backwards until she was hovering over your face again. Obanai watched, two fingers still knuckle deep and scissoring you open. You dragged Mitsuri down again, lips suction to her clit and sucking. “O-oh!” Mitsuri nearly fell forward, the new intensity bringing her right back to the brink of her second orgasm. “O-Obanai… can I?” His eyes shifted from her face to where your mouth was. After a second he connected the dots. “By all means, pretty.” You had no idea what was going on above and below you, too focused on getting her to cum a second time. Your chest seemed to freeze, breath sucked straight from your lungs as you felt Mitsuri’s body press to yours.

A second later you felt what was undeniably her tongue, not Obanai’s. The realization along with the sensation was almost dizzying. Obanai’s fingers resumed their normal pace as he watched Mitsuri eat you out instead of him. This time there was no edging, no teasing, Mitsuri was determined to bring you over the edge the same time you bought her over it. Which wouldn’t be hard at all considering how worked up you’d been due to Obanai’s stingy attitude. There was something incredibly lewd about the sight before him, maybe it was the sounds… no it was definitely the sounds… that were getting him the most.

Your pussy was squelching with each thrust of his fingers, walls suctioning to them as if you were trying to hold onto him. There were also the noises you were both making, the moans, the sound of wet tongues sliding along each other’s most sensitive parts… he cursed under his breath. His pants were far too tight, even though he had discarded his uniform top his skin was way too warm. He withdrew his fingers a moment later, placing his hand back on your other thigh to keep you spread. Your arousal smeared across your skin where his fingers gripped you, if you weren’t so occupied you would have complained about his withdrawal.

Obanai, however, had other plans. He watched Mitsuri for a moment longer before ducking his own head back down. The love pillar seemed a bit surprised as his head brushed hers, it only took a moment to understand what he was after. The angle was a bit awkward but he managed to fit his face down where Mitsuri couldn’t reach. While she was busy sucking on your clit, Obanai began fucking you with his tongue. Now your mind was really going hazy, your tongue’s eagerness halting all together as you simply forgot how to breathe. It was almost too much, too much warmth, too much stimulation… way too lewd for you to handle when Mitsuri was sitting snugly on your face.

You ached to see it, letting your imagination run wild with the ideas of what the two pillars looked like as they ate you out. Mitsuri took the initiative to begin rocking her hips against you, needing to reach her own release a second time. Especially since it was so close, she couldn’t let you leave her hanging again. Mitsuri’s gasp sent you spiraling, orgasm washing over you so intensely that you couldn’t help but cry out against her cunt as she came with you. After a few seconds, Mitsuri pushed herself off of you, falling to a heap right beside you on the bed. Obanai pulled away, taking the opportunity to stand and begin undoing the belt of his pants.

He looked over both of you, chests heaving as you tried to calm down. “Don’t tell me you’ve both worn yourselves out.” there was a small bit of relief as the restriction of his uniform fell off of him. He wiped his mouth of your arousal, watching as Mitsuri pushed herself up to look down at you. “S-still with us?” You nodded, hands rubbing your face to get rid of the shine. “Y-yeah… fuck.” Mitsuri smiled, different from her others, lazier. It sent your heart into a frenzy. “Do you wanna lay this way instead? It’ll be easier for what I want to do next.” You did as she asked, moving to lay on the bed regularly rather than sprawling across it.

“W-what exactly do you have in mind.” You had come to the conclusion that the two pillars must have discussed things at some point. Given the fact that Obanai wasn’t raising any questions, instead giving Mitsuri full reigns to do as she pleased for the time being. “Don’t worry, you get to relax for this. I’ll be doing all the work.” You let her move your legs, spreading them wide to reveal your cunt again. You watched her curiously, turning her body to hook one of your legs under her own. It took a moment but you quickly realized what she was doing yet again. “I-oh… I see…”

Your hands found purchase in their bedsheets, a terrible attempt at grounding yourself as Mitsuri slotted her cunt against yours. “I heard that this is supposed to be pretty fun.” She commented offhandedly, rocking her hips against yours. It was warm, slick enough that her hips gilded easily. Obanai studied you particularly closely, watching as you angled yourself better to aid Mitsuri. It was a bit addicting, watching the two of you fumble around. He would gladly let Mitsuri try all of the things she didn’t get to last time, but there was only so long he could wait before needing to put you back in your place.

The throbbing was only getting worse, but Obanai was a man of patience, he could resist his own temptation in order to really take it out on you. He’d never admit it to your face, but he’d been thinking about you just as often as Mitsuri had been. He was eagerly waiting for you to come crawling back, begging for more, just as Mitsuri hoped you would. Though she worded it far nicer than he ever could.

“Do you think she’s alright…” Mitsuri sighed, clinging to Obanai’s arm a moment later as you finally disappeared from their sight. “She’s fine, she’ll likely walk off the limp by the end of the day.” The dissatisfied sigh that left the woman beside him was enough for him to know that’s not what she meant. “You were really rough on her, I’ve never seen you act like that in the bedroom.” Obanai knew that was coming, though for the first time in a long time he didn’t feel like explaining himself on the matter.

“If she didn’t like it, she would have asked me to stop.” Silence fell between the two as they stood in the doorway of their estate. He really wished you hadn’t run off so quickly, there were far too many questions that they wanted answers to. “Should I go visit her tomorrow?” Obanai shook his head, taking a step back and pulling Mitsuri along with him as they entered their estate once more. “Leave her be for now. If she wants to, she’ll come back when she’s ready.” Mitsuri didn’t seem satisfied with that answer but decided to leave it alone.

“Mitsuri, you’ll have us here for hours at this rate.” Obanai was moving onto the bed, you realized that at some point he had discarded all of his clothing. You’d been much too busy with Mitsuri to even notice. “B-but… it’s so…” she huffed, the tingling remnants of an orgasm hovering just out of her reach. “It’s frustrating, that’s what it is.” He was moving behind her, hands trailing up her sides. “See, you’re even breaking a sweat, pretty girl.” His tone was enough to make you look away, for some reason it felt more intimate than the position you and Mitsuri were in.

“I-I’m so… close just give us a minute.” Mitsuri’s hips swiveled against yours quicker, whining softly as Obanai’s hands made it to her breasts. You glanced at her again, one hand reaching forward in hopes of her coming closer. She caught on, breaking away from her boyfriend to crash her lips to yours. For a moment, Obanai was reminded of the fact that this was likely still a competition in your eyes. Essentially being ignored for this long was finally getting on his nerves. He was more than willing to let Mitsuri have her fun, but your sly little tricks to keep Mitsuri away from him… he was at his wits end. “You’re not as subtle as you think.” You knew it was directed at you, that alone had you smiling into her hungry kiss.

Obanai clicked his tongue, moving to pull Mitsuri back towards him. “C’mon now, you’ve had your fun…” he cooed as she gasped, her third orgasm of the night hitting her as she fell into him. You were dazed, Obanai had pulled her away just before you were able to cum. “Remember what we talked about?” You watched them intently, pushing yourself up into a sitting position with your legs still tangled in her’s. “I-I Sorta do.” Obanai chuckled, motioning for Mitsuri to sit up by the pillows. “You’ll remember better in a minute.” He let her go, watching as she untangled herself from you.

With Mitsuri out of the way, you were left on full display for Obanai. Nothing was separating him from you now, especially as Mitsuri settled just behind you on the mattress. “I’d like to think that we’ve been lingering in your mind.” the comment had scrunching your nose, not quite seeing where he was taking this. “Tell me, have you touched yourself thinking about us?” your legs immediately wanted to snap shut as his eyes dragged over your glistening cunt. “I haven’t actually… couldn’t satisfy myself in the way you both did.” It tumbled past your lips despite your body’s natural reaction to shrink away.

Obanai seemed pleased with that answer, hand wrapping around the base of his neglected cock, finally giving it a small bit of attention. “Hmm? That’s just what I wanted to hear.” he chuckled softly, breathier than normal as he stroked himself slowly. “How pathetic you must have looked…felt…nothing but your fingers and it still did nothing for you.” He ruined you, so did Mitsuri. If you had the capacity to think of anything outside of the two of them at this given moment… You’d be wondering how you’d go on with your life after this came to an end. “Probably sounded pathetic too…” you weren’t sure what made you want to feed into his narrative, but the red coating his cheeks as he spoke to you made you want to see him crumble.

“Hmm? Why’s that?” Mitsuri spoke for you, hands coming up to run through your disheveled hair with her eyes locked on Obanai’s fist. “Couldn’t stop whining… it was frustrating you know… kept thinking about the two of you…” Obanai inhaled sharply, torn between wanting to put you in your place and ease your previous frustrations. Though he couldn’t understand why he was even torn in the first place… that was a thought for later. “Oh? I’d that’s the case why don’t you tell me how badly you want this.” He motioned to his cock, head tilting and eager to hear what you would say.

“Haven’t I given you enough? Or would you rather I fuck your girlfriend again to prove it?” Mitsuri suppressed a giggle, shifting herself so your head was in her lap. Leaning her weight on her free hand, she continued to stroke your hair. Obanai huffed out a humorless laugh, “You’re still a fucking pain.” You yelped as he suddenly grabbed your ankles, holding them as tightly. “Mitsuri, remember now?” Obanai’s tone changed as he spoke to her, purposely ignoring your wide eyes. “Yeah, I believe I do.” Her fingers left your hair, trailing down to your arm and stopping when she reached your wrist.

You glanced up at her, watching as she found herself a new position and reached for your other wrist. Now, she sat behind you, head on her lap and legs tucked neatly underneath herself. She brought your wrists together slowly, holding them in a gentle grip that you knew you wouldn’t be able to escape from even if you wanted to. “Good job.” Obanai cooed as he moved closer, shifting his grip from your ankles to your calves as he pushed your legs towards your chest. “Mitsuri wanted me to take it easier on you this time around, she’d like me to be gentle with you…” now, he fully pressed your legs to your chest, forcing you into an awkward position, one you couldn’t move from. “I told her no.”

You swallowed, being completely restrained sent a chill down your spine, the second orgasm you’d been denied of only moments prior was prickling your skin. That familiar throb returned, aching so deeply it was as if you never came in the first place. Obanai angled himself, pressing the dull head of his cock to your weeping entrance, no assistance needed. “You don’t mind, right? You like when I use you like a fuck toy… it’s why you came back, yeah?” You would say or agree to anything in that moment, especially with the way he was shallowly thrusting against you, teasing you by not entering at all.

“C’mon…I won’t do anything till you tell me I’m right…” he pressed his hips forward, the head of his cock splitting you open. You inhaled sharply, hands flexing in Mitsuri’s grasp as you sought for something to ground you. “Y-yes… fuck you… seriously… but yes. Use me… please just fucking—“ Obanai cut you off, pressing his hips forward and bottoming out immediately, watching intently as you squealed and squirmed from the sudden intrusion. Your eyes had squeezed shut, lips trembling as you tried to steady your breathing. You were wet enough that bottoming out within a second hadn’t hurt but the stretch had certainly taken your breath away.

“Ah, Obanai…” Mitsuri’s brows were creased with worry, easily switching both of your wrists to one hand so she could caress your cheek with the other. “She can take it.” He spoke through gritted teeth, heart thumping wildly as your walls spasmed and suctioned to him. Maybe he had neglected himself a little too much during you and Mitsuri’s foreplay. He could feel himself throbbing, threatening already to spill a load deep inside of you. It pissed him off to no end, especially since he had no intentions of cumming in you. He still didn’t think you were quite ready for that yet, he still didn’t think you deserved it. “Can you?” Mitsuri’s question caught both of you off guard, your eyes flying wide to stare up at Mitsuri before moving to stare at Obanai who was hovering over you.

“Oh? You’re picking up on her sharp tongue, aren’t you, pretty girl.” Obanai chuckled, though you could tell it was a bit strained. He hadn’t moved yet, the grip on your legs would likely leave bruises. It thrilled you. Mitsuri sighed, thumb still rubbing along your cheek as she gripped your wrists together. “Just seems like you’re trying not to cum, Obanai.” You didn’t think she had it in her, her voice had taken on a sultry undertone, different from the breathy whines she bestowed upon you. “Watch it…” he gritted out, face bright red as his eyes squeezed shut.

He hadn’t expected Mitsuri to defend you… though he couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy seeing her do so. “Well? Is her pussy that good?” You swore you were dreaming, that’s what it is, you were dreaming right? You never would have thought Mitsuri was capable of talking in such a way. Obanai seemed a bit hesitant, as if she were testing him by asking. “I’m serious, it’s not like I have the ability to feel it the way you do…” it clicked, she was a bit envious. “I mean I know how good it feels from the outside… but inside… ahh I wish I could know! Tell me please, Obanai.”

For a moment your eyes locked, you and Obanai sharing the same look of disbelief as Mitsuri rambled on. It took him a moment to collect himself, he had gotten passed the point of nearly coming but now he needed to wrap his brain around everything Mitsuri had said. “I…uhm…good… it feels good.” He swallowed, looking up at Mitsuri through his lashes. “Ah that’s not good enough! Describe it to me…” she whined softly, the feeling making your entire body squirm. You needed him to move, if not you were convinced you’d lose your mind being stuffed so full while listening to them speak in such a way about you.

“It’s…shit… it’s warm…” it was a slow start, just as slow as he dragged his hips backwards before pushing in again. The fraction of a movement, barely there but enough to have you gritting your teeth. “C’mon Obanai… you can do better than that…” Mitsuri sighed “you could also do better if you moved.” She had a disappointing tone, as if upset Obanai wasn’t doing as she asked of him. That seemed to be enough to jumpstart his brain…and his hips… as he gasped. Legs still pressed to your chest, he used them for leverage as he pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back into you.

A loud, shaking moan slipped past your lips as he repeated the process, pistoning his hips until you couldn’t see straight. “I’m waiting…” she mewled softly, watching your face contorted in pleasure while Obanai seemed to be biting his tongue. “It’s…” he groaned as your walls suctioned and spasmed around him, your cunt was good, too good even, and it irked him to no end. Admitting that out loud just may kill him, but disappointing Mitsuri seemed like a far worse fate to face. “It’s good…fuck it’s so wet.”

You inhaled sharply, skin prickling with sweat as he spoke. Your pain was fully outweighed by the pleasure, though you were certain your body would be sore after. “It’s tight too, hot and wet and tight…soft…” his hips stuttered as he lost control over his words, taking only a moment before he found his rhythm again. “And it’s still undeserving of my cock.” He gritted out, looking you in the eye now without any embarrassment. “It’s the pussy of a little fucking whore.” The smile was strained, but it sent a shrill of arousal through your entire body, walls fluttering uncontrollably.

“Oh…” she cooed softly, urging him to keep going as your moans turned to cries. Tears burned your eyes, clit throbbing and neglected as he continued to pound into you. You couldn’t even figure out where the tears had come from, but that didn’t matter one bit. Not when Obanai’s pupils seemed to drown out the color of his eyes, completely enthralled by the wet streams running towards your temples. He wanted to see them streak your face, the same way they did when he shoved his cock so far down your throat… “What a little whore… mad that I won’t make you my cum dumpster?”

He chuckled, hips meeting your body particularly hard, dragging an unrestrained yelp from you. “Answer me or I won’t move.” Mitsuri was quietly hypnotized by the scene playing out right before her, cunt throbbing with needy desire. She couldn’t tell who she wanted to be more… Obanai was never this rough with her but she’d give anything to experience you the way he was right now.

“Obanai…” you whined softly, his own name coming from your lips caught him by surprise. “Please…” you didn’t even know what you were asking for, uttering the words in hope that he’d somehow decipher it. “Obanai… kiss her.” Mitsuri instructed softly, the tears leaking from your eyes never slowed. Obanai stopped for a minute, teasing you by only leaving half of his length inside.

“Kiss her? Why should I do that?” He hadn’t kissed you ever, not last time and you assumed he wouldn’t this time. “Because I want you to… I’m sure she wants you to… you want to.” Mitsuri’s face was flushed, pupils dilated and eyes filled with need. Obanai couldn’t say no when she looked like that. You watched him, chest heaving as you sniffled, waiting for him to act. Obanai shifted more of his weight onto you, hands gripping your legs so intensely you were certain there would be bruises for a while. His hips pushed into you again, just as his lips crashed to yours. It was sloppy, a mess of teeth and tongue.

You cried into the kiss, the new closeness allowed you the tiniest bit of friction for your aching clit. Each thrust had his hips slapping into yours, abdomen pressing to your lower half just as tightly. Obanai seemed to lose himself a bit, kissing you so deeply you forgot how to breathe. He parted a moment later, head ducking to bury itself in your neck as he bit down on the sensitive skin. You yelped, body flinching as his teeth threatened to break your skin. “There…” he pulled away, admiring the deep indents of his teeth.

Mitsuri watched as your lips met his again, the bed shaking with the force of his thrusts. She had to wonder how he was holding up so well, considering he was seconds away from falling apart after entering you. Though, maybe that offhand thought had jinxed him. Obanai’s thrusts turned sloppy, he was convinced he could last long enough to pull out of you right when the timing was right. It wouldn’t be that hard, he’s done it before.

Yet you continued to prove him wrong, walls tightening like a vice around his cock, pulling his orgasm straight through him. He gasped into your mouth, pure shock as he dragged his hips out of you, spurting the rest of his release on your cunt. Though, it had been too late, some of his cum had been released deep inside of you. His face was bright red, a look of shock on all three of your faces as his lips parted from yours. The room was quiet save for your ragged breathing, you couldn’t quite believe that he had messed up. Though it drew a cocky smile up your tired face, “I-I thought you weren’t gonna give me your cum… thought I wasn’t good enough…” you glanced up a Mitsuri, her eyes locked on your cum covered cunt.

Obanai couldn’t meet your eyes for a moment, he too was watching his own release slip out of your fluttering hole. “Mitsuri…” his voice was low, the grip on your legs finally loosening enough for you to relax them a bit. “Hmm?” She was hiding a smile, wishing he would have dumped the whole load in. “You’re going to fix this.” He moved away from you entirely, dick still twitching with need despite coming. “Fix it?” She let go of your wrists, watching as you managed to stretch while keeping your legs spread in order to not smear his cum. “Yes, you’re going to clean her up… with your mouth.” Obanai had made enough room for Mitsuri to take his place, hand wrapping around his cock tightly.

“And you’re going to make up for it.” You watched him motion towards his cock before meeting her eyes again. “You caused this, after all.” You blinked, watching Mitsuri move without hesitation, settling below you on her stomach, ass in the air for him. “H-how’d Mitsuri cause this?” You yelped as the pink haired woman dragged her nails over your thighs, hands kneading the squishy flesh before dragging you closer. “Doesn’t matter, but seeing that she’s complying so easily, she knows I’m right.” Mitsuri only chuckled, tongue licking up your thigh. You couldn’t complain, not when you still felt a cocky sense of pride over what happened.

Instead of cleaning you up like he instructed, Mitsuri used two fingers to collect the rest of his release. You gasped as she plunged both fingers inside, forcing more of his cum in you. Obanai watched with parted lips, hand coming to knead the flesh of Mitsuri’s ass before lining his cock up with her entrance. “She really is rubbing off on you, you’re usually so obedient.” Mitsuri hummed before moving her mouth to hover over your clit, looking at you with a small smile. “I’ve come to see why y/n finds it so fun to mess with you… you’re pretty hot when you’re mad and embarrassed.” Her mouth met your clit a moment later, tongue lapping at it.

Obanai scoffed, rosy blush on his cheeks as he pressed his hips forward. Even when mad, he still managed to take things easy on her. At least… easier than he did with you. Mitsuri’s stuttering breath had your head tilting back, the orgasm that had been dangled out of your reach that whole time was now in your grasp. Sloppy and uneven thrusts forced Mitsuri’s mouth against your cunt in various amounts of pressure. The tension in your gut building with each struggling suck and lick as Obanai’s hips met her ass with each thrust. “Gonna cum again?” He was seething, yet perfectly able to control himself when it came to Mitsuri.

“Fuck…yes…” you slurred out, walls twitching around her fingers as she messily plunged them in and out of you. You came crashing down around her, a loud breathless moan escaping your lips as your body arched off the mattress. Mitsuri whined, losing balance as your body moved away from her. Obanai watched both of you in fascination, yet he was not willing to let himself get distracted like he did before. That’s why he blamed Mitsuri, asking him to kiss you had fully thrown him off. He had become so engulfed in you that he didn’t even recognize the warning signs until he was already diving head first off of the cliff.

His hips moved in a hasty rhythm, the flesh of Mitsuri’s ass rippling each time he moved forward. It was addicting, just as addicting as to it fucked out expression as you tried to sit yourself up. “Don’t run off now…hah…I’m not done yet.” Obanai fixed you in place with a hard glare, your eyes immediately shifting down to the mumbling and drooling mess below you. Mitsuri was on the brink of another orgasm, at this point she had lost count of how many she had. The only thought ringing through her mind was how well both of you treated her. “Y/n… Obanai…” you it names left her in a struggling mantra, drunk off of both of your bodies.

“Come for me, pretty girl… I know you want to.” Sweat was dripping down his temple, abdomen going taut as he tried to hold himself back. He had other plans in mind, he refused to come until he was able to achieve them. You, on the other hand, moved forward, body feeling like gelatin as you moved towards him. Obanai’s eyebrow cocked, watching as you struggled to move to the opposite end of Mitsuri. You nearly collapsed into him, watching as the pink haired woman squashed her cheek into the mattress, no longer able to support herself.

“Here…come for us please…” your hand snaked lower, finding her clit and rubbing it quickly. Overstimulation nearly overpowered her pleasure as a high pitched shriek left her, her final orgasm ripping through her body as a gush of warm liquid splattered Obanai, your hand and the sheets below. “Holy shit…” you croaked as she fell limply against the mattress, pulling Obanai out of her in the process. “Fucking filthy…” Obanai sneered, as he looked at you. “Get on your knees.” He ordered a moment later, cock wet and shining from Mitsuri’s release.

You nearly fell off of the bed, knees hitting the wooden floor unceremoniously. You knew what was coming next, it sent a shrill of arousal through you as he got off of the bed with you. “Open your mouth… though from the looks of it you know what’s coming, don’t you? You little whore.” Your mouth parted, tongue sticking out as he grabbed your cheeks with his free hand. As excited as you were, you still clinched when a glob of his spit landed on your tongue. “Be a good little whore and swallow like you did last time.” You did, mouth shutting and reopening a moment later.

“Atta girl…” the praise nearly had you melting. Mitsuri watched from the mattress, too worn out to even lift her head, never mind moving to help you. Obanai, as ruthless as ever, shoved his cock down your throat in a similar fashion to last time. You choked, embarrassingly loud as tears burned your eyes again. He hit the back of your throat, hand grabbing a fistful of your hair to drag you along his length. The taste of bitter precum mixed with Mitsuri’s release, the force of his tugging making you see stars. Your hands scrambled to find his legs, nails scratching the delicate skin of his thighs as you tried to steady your breathing.

Your nose brushed his pubic bone, body tensing as he held you in place. You looked upwards through wet lashes, watching a smirk creep up his face. The scars on his cheeks only lengthened it, he reminded you of a snake. You had the urge to call him beautiful again, though it would be quite difficult to do so at the moment. You forced your jaw to relax, seeing that he had no intentions of pulling out just yet. “You’re such an addictive pain in the ass… I mean really.” He pulled your hair a little tighter, watching as tears slipped down your cheeks. Sick satisfaction bubbled in his gut as your eyes turned glossy.

He let you go a moment later, allowing you a second to breathe properly before shoving himself back down. “I’ve never met someone so infuriating…ha…yet so fucking intoxicating. To the point I actually miss your presence.” You made a noise of surprise, watching his head fall back as your throat vibrated. “T-that shocks you hmm? I figured it would…shit…ya know I’m really trying, Mitsuri.” His eyes shot over to her, her eyes lidded with sleep as she watched. “She was so persistent about me being nicer to you… easier…” his hips began thrusting back and forth, building in tempo slowly.

“I think you can take it though, I think you enjoy being used as a fuck toy.” He slammed his hips down, earning another harsh gag from you as drool dripped down your chin. Your tongue lathered the underside of his cock, throat constricting as you swallowed the best you could around him. It didn’t help the saliva running down your chin and neck, dribbling onto your chest as Obanai had his way with you. “Cmon now…” his hand hit your cheek a couple times, pulling your attention back to him. “You enjoy it, don’t you?” this time you hummed something similar to a yes, throat vibrating around him once again. He was going to cum, he knew he was, but he was torn.

Come down your throat or see how pathetic you look with your face covered in it. He was already familiar with the satisfaction that came with the ladder, seeing your face covered was all too appealing. Not willing to fuck up again, the hand in your hair tightened to keep you in place as he retreated from your mouth all together. “Be a good little bitch and keep your mouth open…tongue out.” You watched with blurry vision as he pumped himself with his free hand. Your saliva clung to him, allowing his fist to glide rapidly. “You got lucky.. Lucky that Mitsuri distracted me. This time…fuck… this time it’s my way.”

It took a few more pumps for Obanai to spill himself all over your face. Sticky white painted your mouth, chin, chest and even your cheeks. Eyes squeezing shut in fear of getting it where you’d prefer you didn’t. The sight itself was nothing short of filthy, paired with the shaking whines of the man fisting your hair, it was enough to make Mitsuri squirm, head turning to look away. Obanai let go once his orgasm had died down, nothing but labored breathing filled the room as you tried to collect your wits. “Are you alright?” Obanai’s voice was quiet, face flushed and sweaty as he dropped down to your level. You swallowed, “Y..yeah…a wet cloth would be nice though…”

“Of course… get on the bed and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back.” Mitsuri was pushing herself up, scooting to lay her head on one of the pillows. “Ahh y/n-chan, come lay beside me. You’re not running away from us again.” You pushed yourself up as Obanai disappeared from the room, making your way over to the bed and nearly collapsing onto the sheets. The only thing stopping you was the fear of making a mess… granted the sheets already needed to be changed due to Mitsuri. “Run away? I slept here last time too.” You chuckled softly as she rolled over. “Yes, but you still ran away the morning after. You’re not allowed to do that this time!”

“That so? How come.” you teased softly, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. “We have a lot to discuss, but I’m far too tired… you are too.” You opened your mouth but no words came out, “Mitsuri, you’re doing it again. You make it seem like we’re going to execute her or something. Don’t fill her head with useless worries or she’ll never fall asleep.” Obanai entered the room, wet cloth and new sheets in hand. He had also taken the time to throw on a kimono, as if trying to be modest after what you had just done. You let him clean your face, hands gentle as he wiped away his mess. It was probably the gentlest he’d ever touched you.

“Sorry…I guess that’s true.” Mitsuri slurred, already falling asleep. “G’night Mitsuri.” you laughed softly, eyes glancing over Obanai’s face. “We’ll change the bedding in the morning. You can bathe then as well, we have clothing you’d like if you’d allow us to wash the clothing you came in.” He was motioning you backwards, pulling a pillow to place under your head. “Oh… thank you…I don’t mean to be a nuisance.” he scoffed, shouldering off the clothing he had put on once again. “Stop saying things like that. We want you here, y/n.” You snorted, “You’ve called me a pain multiple times.” He climbed in beside you, the gentle snores signaling that Mitsuri had fallen asleep already.

“That’s because you are. But that’s not a bad thing… I assume you see me as a pain as well.” He sighed, settling comfortably on his back. “Oh absolutely… you’re just a bit insufferable… though I can’t say you don’t fuck me good.” You hummed, ignoring the burn in your cheeks as you shifted onto your side, back facing him. “Glad we’re on the same page… now get some sleep. Mitsuri and I have some things to talk about in the morning with you… so don’t try and run off like last time.” You huffed softly, muttering out a soft “fine” as sleep tugged at you. You could sleep easier when they were with you, warmth on each side, lulling you to sleep.

The third and final part of this little series will be I Always Do It Better

I plan on working on it and posting it hopefully some time this summer… definitely don’t intend on making y’all wait over a year again lmfao. I hope you enjoyed this part!! - May

3K notes · View notes

onlyhuis · 4 months

Text

stoner!svt

their favorite forms of weed + random stoner thoughts

member — svt ot13 x reader genre — headcanons, humor word count — 1.0k warnings — descriptions of marijuana and smoking. there isn't anything explicit or suggestive in this, but my blog is 18+ so minors dni. but whether you're a minor or not, please do not take advice about drugs from strangers on the internet,, i am so unqualified and this is just a reflection of my own experiences so don't take anything here as fact. always use responsibly! notes — huge thanks to @wooahaeproductions @highvern and @gyuwoncheol for brainstorming this with me !! as tumblr's resident stoner huihui i have many more thots about stoner!svt so feel free to stop by my inbox with your ideas to chat 👀

one reblog = one joint hand rolled for you by minghao himself

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seungcheol: dab pen

big bulky man requires a big bulky pen. it hits harder and feels way more intense so he doesn’t care that it’s harder to clean. he also has a dab rig and he thinks it makes him cool and different because he and vernon are the only ones who actually know how to use it

jeonghan: weird shaped bong

he has to be Extra at all times so he has a surprising variety of odd shapes. the tentacle one on his dresser is his most interesting one for sure, but the one shaped like an arcade game machine with actual flashing lights is his favorite. he’s the king of princess treatment so he definitely makes everyone else light his bongs for him; why would he do it himself when there’s a perfectly good coups sitting right there?

joshua: fruity disposable thc pens

he’s made it his life mission to try every flavor once. los angeles is like the vape capital of the world so there is definitely no shortage of flavors for him to try. someone please pack him a normal regular unflavored bowl before all his clothes permanently smell like strawberry ice. he thinks he’s subtle but you can literally smell him a mile away, his scent enters the room before he does

junhui: literally anything

willing to take whatever you’re willing to give: you put any kind of weed in front of him and he’s gonna try it. he really doesn’t have a preference for what form it’s in, as long as he gets to do it with you <3 i can also see him trying edibles in different forms than the usual kinds, like the ones that come in a can like soda or a bag of chips. it’s hard to tell when he’s high because he’s the same amount of giggly as he always is, it’s like a 50/50 chance of whether he’s stoned or just silly

soonyoung: preroll joints

he tries so hard it’s kind of sad but also so funny. he takes one hit and coughs like he's been chainsmoking cigarettes for the last 40 years, then gets tired after 10 minutes and lays facedown on the floor until he falls asleep. he’s not invited to smoke with you anymore because he spills the bong water every single time without fail. he becomes the most giggly and cuddly person you’ve ever seen in your life; imagine drunk hosh, times ten. he sets up his tiger plushies in a circle and passes the joint around like he’s a 4 year old girl having a tea party. he starts crying if one of them feels left out so he has to count and make sure they all get an equal number of hits

jihoon: normal shaped bong

locks himself in and hotboxes the studio. he mostly does it to get out of his own head and chill alone for a while, so don’t even think about interrupting him. he’ll emerge from a cloud of smoke a couple of hours later with 2 new albums, god of light music: the sequel, and a solo for hoshi. he doesn’t let the other members touch his stuff or even know where he hides it

wonwoo: normal shaped bong (dirty)

i hate to play into the dirty gamer boy stereotype that he’s always written as… but he 100% never cleans it. it’s always byob (bring your own bong) when he invites you over because he may be with fine smoking a crusty bowl, but not everyone feels that way sorry dude

minghao: hand-rolled joints

he doesn’t trust anyone to roll but himself. he has fancy expensive organic papers that he got from an exclusive farmer's market and he treats it like an art form but honestly it hits way better when he does it so you don’t question his technique. a hand rolled joint from minghao is like a gift from god

mingyu: homemade edibles

vernon gave him a homemade rice krispie once and he swore it wasn’t hitting so he ate another one... and then passed out on the couch. after vernon gave him the recipe, mr. professional chef here decided he likes to bake them himself but somehow always ends up measuring it wrong and makes them way too strong. on accident or on purpose? we may never know. most likely both. he gets so high he can’t even stand up straight, most giggly and cuddly person you’ve ever seen #2

seokmin: cbd gummies

he takes them to relax or to help him fall asleep rather than to get super high. but he still wanted to feel included with the members who smoke so he tried to buy a cart one time but he bought a melatonin pen on accident instead and they never let him live that down

seungkwan: normal shaped bong (clean)

he takes good care of his stuff and he’s serious about it! he had a bad experience with mold once and now he’s paranoid about remembering to change the bong water. he cleans it daily and keeps everything nice and organized, and he has a bedazzled grinder because if he’s gonna smoke then he’s gonna do it in style obviously

vernon: also literally anything

he’s honestly down for whatever. he prefers smoking over edibles but he doesn’t care if it’s a joint, a pen, a bong. also depends on his mood but the majority of the time it’s whatever is the closest within reach and requires the least amount of effort

chan: 4ft tall bong

how? why does he have that? where did he get it? huh? those are all questions he doesn’t have the answers to either. it’s more of a mascot than anything; it sits in the corner of his living room like a lamp and he doesn’t even use it. he uses a regular bong the majority of the time but only because he’s afraid of breaking the sacred Tall Bong. it’s a big hit at parties

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#kvanity #kflixnet #k-labels #caratlibrary #[📌] — june.writes #svt scenarios #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt imagines

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wonijinjin · 9 months

Text

thinkin’ about you

author’s note: inspired by the song ‘thinkin’ about you’ by seventeen. also, this fic will probably get a second part, because i just cannot leave this on a cliffhanger without a sequel, that would be a shame

update: second part of this fic can be found here.

synopsis: you drinking a little too much and calling joshua to take you home wasn’t the best idea, or was it?

word count: 1.2k | genre: fluff, mutual pining, kinda slowburn, the tiniest bit of hurt/comfort and angst, close friends to something more | pairing: joshua x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of alcohol and being tipsy/drunk, the curse word ‘fuck’

your exam season at university was finally over, and to celebrate passing your tests you and your friends decided on going out to party at a club in the city. it was already past midnight, the party going on for several hours at that point, when you started to get really tired, having had multiple shots and cocktails, but your friends insisted on staying a bit longer. you could feel yourself get tipsier by the minute so you thought the safest option would be going home before you did something stupid or embarrassing you would regret in the morning. you took out your phone and dialed the first number that came to mind, your close friend’s, joshua’s. while waiting for him to pick up the phone your messy thoughts wondered to your long existing not so platonic feelings for him. he made your heart jump every time you thought about him, which was almost always, not just due to your feelings, but because you spent a lot of time with him on a daily basis as he was a very dear person to your heart. you have known him for as long as you can remember, and he was truly the most amazing friend you had, always being there for you, always treating you with so much care. he was like this with most of his friends, he cherished people around him and never took them for granted, you really admired him for this. you sometimes hated loving him, because it was so difficult to keep your emotions to yourself for this exact reason. who could blame you though? he was all anyone would wish for in a partner, kind, intelligent, considerate, caring.

“hello? y/n? what’s up?” he said as he picked up, voice hoarse, laced with sleep. “ah were you sleeping? sorry, should’ve known you need your beauty sleep to be this handsome.” you slurred, clearly more drunk than you thought. “were you drinking?” he questioned “are you hurt or something?” his voice sounded concerned. you laughed at this “nooo silly, i am perfectly fine, i had so much fun” there was a moment of silence before you continued “…but i need a favor, all my friends want to stay here longer, so i need a ride home. no way i’m getting into a car driven by a stranger, plus i don’t even have enough money for a taxi.” you expected him to say no, after all, it was in fact the middle of the night and he clearly had better plans on how to spend his. he sighed on the other end of the line “fine, i would much rather drive you home than letting you ask a stranger from the club to do it when you are clearly wasted as fuck.” he said while shuffling echoed in the phone, indicating that he was already getting up and changing. you knew he was right; you were not in the best shape. maybe the last margarita was a bit too much? “thank you shua baby.” the nickname slipped out on accident and if you were sober you would’ve gasped and started apologising right away, saying that he should forget about this, but you couldn’t really care less in that moment. you could hear the hitch in his breathing and the tension in his voice when he said goodbye over the phone, asking for your location and saying he would text you when he was there. you wondered; maybe drinking was a good decision, maybe getting a bit bold with words is what you needed as encouragement to tell him the secret you’ve been hiding for quite a while now, maybe you should really confess to him while you are not scared of the consequences.

20 minutes later you got the text from him and you were ready to leave. your confident march from the entrance to the car failed though when you tripped over your own feet, almost breaking half of your bones in the process. “oh my god y/n how much did you drink?” someone asked while helping in restoring your balance. you knew it was joshua right away, that voice cannot be mistaken for anybody else. “a little too much, i think?” you giggled. joshua took you to his car and opened the door for you to climb into the passenger seat. “wow thank you this is so fancy i feel like royalty.” you commented, still grinning. “well i do feel like a personal chauffeur now, coming here just to be taking your ass home. let’s go, put that leg inside so we can go, your highness.” he demanded while grabbing your leg, tired of waiting for you to clumsily get into the vehicle.

after he shut the door and got in himself to start the engine you two sat in silence for a little while before you spoke up. “i’m really sorry you have to take me home, i know i was selfish for asking, but i really didn’t have a better plan. i didn’t feel like i was this drunk when i was inside, but sitting here made me regret having the last drinks.” he looked at you at the red light. “look, i don’t mind this, really. you are one of my best friends, i would do this a hundred times if it meant you got home safely and some weirdo didn’t kidnap you or something. also, you thinking about me first when asking for help is quite flattering too you know.” he smirked. you nodded, eyes getting heavy suddenly from all that partying. “i can see you almost falling asleep. there’s a jacket on the back seat if you want it as a makeshift blanket. i will wake you when we get there. go to sleep y/n.” you didn’t bother to search for the jacket, just closed your eyes, letting sleep overtake you. “what you said is true. i do think about you a lot, shua. probably more than a close friend should.” you mumbled, already half asleep, still not sobering up enough to control and censor your thoughts before saying them out loud. “what do you mean?” his eyes went wide and he looked in your direction as if he misheard what you had said, only to see you knocked out cold, sleeping soundly like a baby. on the way to your house he couldn’t stop himself from replaying your words in his head over and over again while he checked on you from time to time to see if you were alright. he couldn’t believe what he had just heard, that you might’ve felt something more for him, something friends don’t feel, something he had been suppressing for a long time, a warm feeling in his chest. when you arrived he turned off the car, however didn’t have the heart to wake you. he knew you were exhausted, so he draped his jacket over you, and let you sleep for a bit longer, watching you rest so peacefully after shaking up his heart with your drunk monologue. he didn’t know if he should believe you, if he really had a chance of being more than friends with you after all these years. he got comfortable in his seat, facing your form, eyes looking at your still face.

“i know you are sleeping, but just so you know we will definitely have to talk about this little sentence of yours in the morning y/n. i do think about you a lot too, you know? you need to be more clear next time, because you cannot do this to me, driving me crazy and leaving me to chase false hopes.”

#wonijinjin #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #joshua #joshua x reader #svt joshua #tiny bit of angst #friends to lovers #slow burn #comfort #fluff #joshua hong #jisoo hong #seventeen

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beautouslysandy · 1 year

Text

i hate him for taking him away from me

no explanation….sequel dallas winston x gn!reader by: sandy

warnings: angst and language and lowercase intended

word count: 1,140

request: I just saw your “No explanation…” story and I need a part two !! (Ofc you don’t have to this is just a request) anyways keep up the great work!! You really keep me begging for more 😭😭

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

at your house, in you don’t know how old day pajamas. you’ve been crying for only god knows how long, you can tell by the redness around your eyes. you feel stuck in your bed, unable to move. your heart is heavy, it feels like it weighs as much as the sun. it’s been a week since he broke up with you….with no explanation. a box is on your bed….full of him. his leather jacket, letters, the teddy bear he won you at the fair, homemade gifts, a bracelet that matches with one of his own, and his st. christoper necklace. you packed it the night it happened…when he left you with no explanation. you want to know what you did wrong, how you could fix this. but you couldn’t bear to see his face at the moment, he took himself away from you. you could never forgive him. never. ‘i hate him from taking him away from me.’

was all you could think, over and over again. it was like that was your first sentence as a toddler and it’s all you could say. you heard a knock on your bedroom door, for obvious some reason you found yourself clinging to hope that it was him that was knocking on your old dark wood door, nobody else….just him.

”come on in.” you found yourself saying with a squeak at the end. the door swinger open and oh….it was just johnny. not that you weren’t glad to see him, it’s just if you couldn’t tell…you were hoping it was him. coming to take you back and hold you in his arms and give you a long and soft kiss that you are in need of.

“hey y/n…how are you doing?” johnny said, with a sympathetic smile at the end.

“just fine.” you replied, finding yourself not ready to admit that your relationship with him was over. it was too painful to admit it.

“really?” johnny said with a shocked tone, he clearly thought that you were going to break down the moment you laid eyes on him.

you shook your head, you couldn’t form words. you heard clattering behind johnny….weird nobody but you was home. your mom was at work and your little sister was at a friends for the night. hope once again appeared and began to rise, this time you tired to shake it away. “he isn’t here y/n, he doesn’t love you anymore.” you whispered with a sniffle

“hmm?” johnny hummed as he only heard muffled sounds exiting your mouth.

“nothing. what brings you by?” you spoke with a sniffle here and there, you weren’t expecting company so you looked like a train wreck.

johnny froze, he blinked rapidly then looked next to him as he hadn’t fully entered the room, he was still in the hallway. you heard muffled whispers, there the hope came again, lingering in your mind.

attempting then failing to fight it off, before you knew it….he was there in the doorway. ‘johnny must have forced him to come’ was your immediate thought but a hopeful voice whispered ‘nobody can force him to do anything, he doesn’t want to do’

“hey y/n…” he said rocking on his heels slightly, the tension rose.

you felt a slight pain, you can’t remember the last time he called you by your actual name. it was always doll or baby. never y/n. you slightly waved, here we go again, you aren’t able to form words. happening a lot lately but who can blame you.

“we need to talk.” he said, looking a far clearly unable to look you in the eyes.

“yes we do….” you say surprisingly, you feel this shocking angry take over you “dallas.” you finish your sentence with a cold tone.

you have never called him by his name, it was always dal, babe, love, even asshole. never dallas.

you focus on your light blue comforter and out of the side peripheral of your eye, you see him flinch slightly. this for some odd reason amuses you. ••• johnny was on the porch clearly wanting to stick around, he saw you and him as family and you could tell this was upsetting him almost as much as it was you.

he was sitting at your oak round table in the kitchen next to the bay window. it was sunny outside and the birds were chirping, unlike how inside your home it was quiet and someone had yet to cue the cricket sounds as you grabbed two coffee cups and filled them up. giving him one as you sat down, he began to explain. “i don’t deserve you, y/n….” he began, later taking a sip of his coffee.

you choked on your coffee that you had taken a sip of, he looked up at you with worried beady eyes but they calmed down and found there place outside the window when you were no longer choking. “you okay?” he asked, still looking outside the window.

“yes, thank you.” you replied politely

“who said that?” you asked with a bit of concern, you fidgeted with the handle of your mug. neither of you able to make eye contact with the other. “nobody needed to.” he said with a sniffle.

“what makes you think that, it could be the other way around…” you said, you looked at him with sad eyes.

feeling your eyes on him, he answered with a scoff “y/n…with both know that i will never be what you deserve.” he looked at you, eye contact. you blinked, trying to hold in tears, just talking and looking at him hurt. “don’t say that about yourself, dallas.” you insisted with a sniffle. sipping your coffee, you found your eyes lingering back to his. you wanted answers, this sad speech though it may be a answer….it wasn’t the truth and you knew it.

“why did you break things off?” you said, now twirling the adjustment string on your grey hoodie.

“because you deserve better, y/n. i always knew it….i will hold you down. college is coming up for you and i won’t let myself be the reason you didn’t get the hell out of here. you deserve the world y/n…and i can’t give you that. i love you so much but it isn’t enough.” he spoke with a sad tone and sniffled.

“dallas, love-“ you began

“y/n, love isn’t enough no matter how much you convince yourself. i tried trust me. this is for the best. i will always love you and i can handle that but i can’t handle seeing you miserable because you didn’t achieve your dreams. i love you, doll.” he cut in with a smile, he kissed you on the head and then walked out. this time with an explanation but nothing changed.

you still hated him from taking him away from you

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders imagine #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dally winston #dallas winston angst #dallas winston fluff #the outsiders dallas #the outsiders dally #johnny cade

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thelibrarylesstrektraveled · 1 year

Text

Trouble

Summary: Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Dean pretty much hated you from the beginning. You were snobbish and bookish. He was no better in your book, but when you get hurt you see a different side to the salty hunter. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all…

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean x Reader, Dean x You

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, fluff

Word Count: 3660

One Shot

Author’s Notes: It’s been a rough week guys, so here is a fluffy, sexy little one shot to make you feel better. It made me feel better…. but then, Dean always does.

Dean Winchester, the cure for what ails you!

Masterlist Geronimo (sequel)

Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, his morning smoothie in one hand and his morning paper in the other. Sam loved a routine. The life of a hunter was pure chaos most of the time it was easy to become unbalanced, physically and mentally. The youngest Winchester discovered a long time ago that if he kept to a personal routine that he could ground himself in it. It provided a solid foundation to build his life on and to Sam Winchester, that was vital.

Since finding the bunker, it became much easier to establish a daily routine. Dean called it nesting and although he didn’t get up with his brother to go running, he too had his routine. Shuffle half asleep through the bunker until he reached the galley. Grumble as he filled his favorite Scooby Doo coffee mug with strong, black coffee. Furrow his brow and scowl at anyone who dared talk to him before he drained his second cup. Rinse, repeat.

Right on schedule, the eldest brother entered the kitchen looking like a bear woken early from hibernation. He grunted a hello as he passed, heading right for the caffeine. Dean leaned against the counter and closed his eyes as he took sip after sip of black gold.

After a few minutes, he looked over at Sam who had that amused smirk on his face. “What?”

Sam turned back to his paper, feigning disinterest, “Nothing. Rough night?”

“My night was fine; my morning was crap.”

Sam knew exactly what his brother was grumpy about but decided to poke at him a bit. Just for his own brotherly amusement, “Oh?”

Dean glared at his brother, “Don’t give me that, I know you heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“Damn it, Sammy… The damned Hallelujah chorus coming from the showers!”

“It wasn’t Hallelujah. It was Respect.”

“It was five in the fucking morning! If Aretha Franklin doesn’t come back from the dead and kill her, I will!”

Sam sighed. This was just the latest on Dean’s long list of infractions committed by their houseguest. Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Opposites in practically every way, which is exactly why they needed her to part of their team. They needed a fresh perspective, and you provided one that was both educated and creative. You weren’t a hunter, but you had a smattering of relatives in the life. You grew up knowing what was really out there and you took it upon yourself to stay informed. You didn’t go looking for trouble, but it seemed to find you anyway.

“Dean, just talk to her, like a reasonable adult. She’s really not so bad once you get to know her.”

Dean was already on his second cup of coffee, “I already know plenty. She’s a stuck-up, tone deaf, know-it-all who uses all the hot water. The sooner we finish this case, the sooner we can send her happy little ass on her way.”

Sam didn’t reply. He knew his brother and this “protests too much” act, was just that. An Act. Dean had it bad for their new roommate and didn’t even know it. Poor bastard.

Dean glanced around the room, “Speaking of her highness, where is she?”

“Walking the dog.”

“Hmm, the dog can stay. I like the dog.”

The loud slam of the heavy, bunker door echoed through the halls along with muffled voices. One they recognized as yours, the other was agitated, and male.

They exchanged a what the hell look and immediately took off towards the commotion.

“What is this place? It does not look like a temple.”

“It’s not a temple, exactly. It’s a temple of knowledge, sort of. A home base,” you explained for what seemed like the hundredth time. Your patience was growing thin. Your clothes were torn and muddy and you ached everywhere. This morning really wasn’t going your way.

“It does seem secure,” the man allowed.

“It is,” you assured him. “It’s very secure. Completely safe, so you can just put me down…”

From the entry way came the voice of the most irritating man you’d ever met, Dean Winchester. “Wow, nice skirt.”

The huge, muscular man who held you in his arms immediately went on the defense. In an astonishingly swift move, he shifted you from his two arms and tossed you over his shoulder with one hand while he drew a broadsword from his belt with the other. “Stay back or I will cut you where you stand!”

Both brothers drew their guns and you found yourself in the middle of a damned stand off!

“Drop it, Tiny!” Dean barked, keeping his weapon trained on the giant that was standing in the war room. Seriously, the guy must be almost eight foot tall. He was big enough to be Andre the Giant’s brother and was dressed like an extra from the movie 300.

With you hanging over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Dean could only see your backside and legs. Not a bad view, he had to admit.

Nice ass, for a prissy snob.

“Put down the girl,” Sam commanded. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

The intruder laughed then; a full-on belly laugh that shook his whole mighty frame. “Hurt me? You are weaklings, obviously suited to temple work. You know nothing of combat.”

Dean’s mouth quirked and he cocked his gun, “You’d be surprised.”

You were growing more exasperated by the second. The blood was properly rushing to your head now, making you dizzy and giving you a headache. Plus, you’d really just had it with the machismo showdown. “Just stop it, all of you! These are my friends, the ones I mentioned earlier. The warriors I told you about.”

The man looked skeptical, “These are warriors?”

“Yes, they are. These are the good guys. So please, just put me down.”

He made no move to accommodate you, “Friends, perhaps but they are no warriors. You would do well to entrust your safety to me, lady. I am the one true champion.”

You’d finally had it. You smacked his back sharply and let out a stream of rapid, scalding Latin.

The Winchesters knew plenty of the dead language, but even they didn’t quite catch what you said. Whatever it was, it proved effective. The stranger sheathed his sword, pulled you from his shoulder and sat you slowly down in a chair.

Red faced, you shoved the mess of hair out of your eyes. You sat a little straighter and tried to remain dignified. “Sam and Dean Winchester, this is… Hercules.”

They both holstered their weapons. Sam spoke first, instantly fascinated. “No kidding, really?”

Dean seemed more concerned with you. He scowled down at you, his eyes darting from injury to injury. You had tears up and down the sleeves of your shirt that showed scratches still bleeding. Your right cheek and temple were scraped up and you were holding you left ankle off the ground at an odd angle.

“What happened, are you alright?”

His tone was gruff and impatient, and he frown was intense. You knew he didn’t like you any more than you liked him, but was a little sympathy too much to ask? You already felt like you got your ass kicked, you didn’t need to be scolded on top of it.

“She is injured and should be attended to at once,” said Hercules, his voice ringing with authority.

“I’m fine, I just fell.”

“I found her trapped at the bottom of a crude pit in the forest. Once I rescued her, I brought her to this fortress as she requested.” Hercules looked around the bunker in wonder, “She said this was a place of safety.”

“It is,” Sam said.

Dean knelt down in front of you, prodding around leg and ankle, earning a hiss of pain from you. You tried to push him away but were unsuccessful. You were tired now that the adrenaline was fading. All you wanted was a hot bath and a bed.

“There are about a dozen holes out by the south bend of the river. Not very wide, but like seven feet deep, the riverbank looks like a Whack-A-Mole game,” you explained. “He just popped up out of nowhere and scared the crap out of me! I fell down one of the holes and twisted my ankle.”

“You never should have been wandering the woods unescorted.” The massive hero folded his arms over his chest and gave each brother a firm dressing down, “Where I come from, no warrior would allow their lady to face the dangers of the world with nothing but a useless hound to defend her!”

Macey, your clueless black Labrador, suddenly looked up from her station at the base of the stairs and thumped her tail.

“Y/N, why didn’t you call us?” asked Sam.

“I lost my phone when I fell down that stupid hole.”

Dean had heard enough. With a grunt of annoyance, he scooped you up and strode off towards the infirmary, “Come on, let’s get you patched up.”

Left with little choice, you reluctantly wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck. You felt frustrated and foolish. You were supposed to be here helping them, adding insight, and providing expertise. Now you looked like an incompetent klutz who had to be rescued all the time. Plus, this was the third phone you’d lost. Add irresponsible to the list of faults.

“I perfectly capable of patching myself up.”

“Yeah, how you going to do that? That ankle is either sprained or broken. Either way, you aren’t going anywhere without help.” Dean gently set you down on one of the beds. He fixed you with a firm look, “Why don’t you just accept it without a bunch of static for once?”

He had a point, but you didn’t have to like it. That strong independent streak in you ran deep and had been reinforced by years of working alone. It had gotten you through every uncertain situation in your life. A small part of you felt that accepting help, even for something simple meant losing your hard-won strength. Of course, the throbbing pain in your ankle didn’t seem so small at the moment.

Dean returned with an arm full of supplies. The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat beside you. When he reached for your right foot, you instantly yanked it back. His eyes snapped up to meet yours and he softened. He may not like you, but he still didn’t like seeing you in pain.

Someone doesn’t like going to the doctor.

“Y/N, you alright?”

You nodded rapidly, “Yes, of course. Sorry. Reflex.”

“We’ve got to take that boot off. See if its broken.” At your nod, he gingerly grasped your leg, “Try not to kick me, okay?”

“No promises,” you breathed, trying to keep your voice steady while Dean worked to loosen the laces of your hiking boot.

When he went to slowly tug at the heel, you yelped and yanked your foot back again. Obviously, he needed a different approach. “You know, maybe it’s not your ankle that’s bothering you.”

You blinked in confusion, “What? What do you mean?”

“It’s me. I make you nervous.”

Your denial was swift and expected. “No you don’t!”

He cocked an eyebrow at you, “You’re not nervous?”

“No. Of course not. Even if I were, it wouldn’t be due to you. Hercules himself is sitting in the library, another mystery dropped in our laps needing to be solved. If I’m feeling anxious, its only because I’m eager to get back to work.”

Dean shrugged, “I thought maybe you were worried I was going to kiss you again. Or maybe you were worried I wouldn’t”

Your mind instantly snapped back to that hazy day in the kitchen, Dean’s lips on yours as his hands tangled in your hair. His hard body pressing up against you as he backed you up against the wall. Every part of him that touched you burned hot; his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his breath as it mingled with yours. He ignited a fire within you that day, and it had been smoldering ever since.

You swallowed unconsciously and met his gaze. A mistake. Your cheeks heated at the intent you saw reflected there. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t given it a second thought.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, “Really? You didn’t like it then?”

Dean’s hand was back on your leg, resting there. You could feel the warmth of his touch through your pant leg and your heart sped up. “I didn’t say that.”

He grinned then, slowly. Dangerous and sexy. He leaned a bit closer to her as his hand slid up behind your knee, the contact unexpectedly intimate.

You took an unsteady breath, “I know you’re just trying to distract me.”

His eyes dropped to your mouth, “Is that a fact?’

“Yes, you do it all the time! Strutting around the bunker like your God’s gift to flannel, making bacon 24/7, and you talk through every episode of Doctor Who!”

“God’s gift, huh?”

“Ugh!” You pushed at his shoulder in frustration, “You are so annoying! Arrogant and rude and I don’t like you at all!”

The fire in your normally calm eyes was fascinating.

Man, she is fun to rile up! Such an easy mark too. Odd, given how perceptive you were in pretty much all other areas.

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” In one swift move, he pulled the heel of your boot, popped it off and slid your foot out.

You dug your fingers into Dean’s arms and let out a stream of colorful curse words. “Christ almighty!”

Dean chuckled until he saw your face blanche, “You alright?”

“No! Why don’t you just chop off my foot, you sadist!” You screwed your eyes shut against the wave of pain. Now that your boot wasn’t keeping pressure, it was hurting far worse. “Fuck, I’m seeing stars.”

You could feel him get up and when you opened your eyes again, he was already returning from across the room. He held out three small white pills and a glass of water. You swallowed them quickly and downed the entire glass. You watched him as he cut away your sock and expose your injury.

“Pretty shade of purple,” Dean whistled as he ran his fingers over the already turning colors and swelling around your ankle bone. Ever so gently, he probed, searching for a break. “Alright, go ahead and move it for me.”

Trying to ignore the pain, Y/N concentrated on Dean’s face. There was kindness there, under the swagger and grit. The man chopped the heads off monsters, battled demons and fought evil every day of the week. By rights, his touch should be rough, hardened by the hunter’s life. Instead, he was the opposite. Studying his chiseled features, it became clear that Dean Winchester’s true appeal was in how deeply he cared.

“Good girl,” he praised when you wiggled your toes, “Any numbness, pins and needles?”

You shook your head when he glanced up at you, “No.”

“Good. Nothing broken. Looks like you’ve got yourself a nasty sprain.” Dean made quick work of wrapping her ankle. “How’s that feel?”

“Better.”

He smiled as he settled an ice pack on top of the wrap and moved on to the scratches up and down your arms. “Huh, yeah. Gotta love those little pills, they kick in quick.”

You tilted your head, “Those pills… Ibuprofen?”

Dean dabbed disinfectant along the cuts, “No. I don’t remember what they are. Had a few left over from when Sam broke his elbow. Guess it’s your lucky day.”

Y/N grabbed his hand, “Wait, so they weren’t just run of the mill, over the counter pain killers?”

He chuckled, “Nope, way better, believe me.”

“Oh, hells bells,” you groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What? What’s wrong? Are you allergic?”

“I’m a lightweight Dean, I don’t even drink! Those pills will have me knocked out in an hour!”

Dean shrugged and continued his work, “Ah well, there are worse things.”

You could already feel your body relaxing, though you tried to resist. Fighting it would be useless in the end; it was just the way your body processed drugs of any kind. Naptime, it was so frustrating. “What about Hercules?”

“Don’t worry about your boyfriend, I’m sure Sam already has it halfway figured out by now.” Dean dabbed the cotton ball over the thin scratch angling across your brow. Your glassy eyes met his and he had to smile. “You really are a lightweight, aren’t you?”

You frowned at him, “Why do you think I never drink with you guys?”

“I just figured you were stuck up.”

“Oh.”

Dean could tell by the way your expression fell that he’d hurt your feelings. He could chop the heads off monsters all day long and not feel an ounce of remorse, but he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you. Words had the power to cut deeper than any machete or silver blade.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat and rummaged through the bandage box. “It’s just you don’t really spend any time with us unless its working. Figured that was intentional.”

“Why would I force social interactions on someone who doesn’t like me?” You returned; your words blunt. “That would be stupid and counterproductive.”

“Fair point,” he grunted as he gently placed a clean, white bandage over the biggest cut. “I don’t not like you though. I like you.”

At this point, you were really having trouble concentrating. Even the tiny muscles of your eyelids were turning to mush. It was all you could do to keep your concentration, but Dean had been an ass to you since day one. You weren’t about to let this opportunity to find out why pass you by.

“Then why are you such a dick to me?”

“I’m not a dick! Not all the time.”

It struck you then, God you were thick! Your jaw dropped, “Wait! Is that why you’re a dick? Because you like me?!”

Flustered, he got up and packed away the first aid supplies. “Those little pills really are messing with your head.”

“I’m right! This is like the grumpy hunter’s equivalent of pulling my pigtails on the playground!” You grinned widely because you solved the puzzle, “You’re flirting with me!”

He returned to the side of the bed and looked down at you with an unreadable look on his face. In a lightning-fast move, he swooped down and lifted you into his arms. Your face was now inches from his, his bottle-green eyes bored into yours with such intensity that your stomach fluttered.

“When I flirt with you, you’ll know it.”

This time your gaze flickered down to his lips. God, I hope he kisses me again!

“I like you too,” you admitted, your words slurring slightly. “I guess I just like dicks.”

Dean burst into laughter and your eyes widened when you realized what you’d just said.

“Damn it! Not like that! I mean… I do like them… but…just,” You sputtered, frustrated that you ruined the mood. “Shut up!”

Dean continued to chuckle as he carried you down the hall to your room. You grew heavier as you relaxed in his grasp, and you rested your head against his shoulder with a sigh. Those happy, little pills nearly had you asleep in his arms. Not that he minded, you fit surprisingly well there. And you smelled amazing. It was that expensive perfume you wore, light and clean. It made his mouth water.

“I’m making your coffee Irish tomorrow; you are one funny drunk.”

You only hummed in response. He nudged the door to your room open with his hip and laid you down on your neatly made bed. He took one of your throw pillows and propped up your wrapped ankle before removing the boot from your other foot.

Your eyes fluttered back open when he took the spare quilt from your chair and tucked it around you. Your smile was soft as you grasped his hand and tugged him down to sit beside you on the bed.

“You got everything you need, Sweetheart?”

You nodded while your thumb traced patterns across his knuckles. “Thank you, Dean. For taking care of me.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. A delightful combination of warm, soft lips and prickly stubble. “Get some sleep, Y/N. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Just as he was about to pull away, you angled your head up and caught his lips in a kiss. He was surprised but quickly smiled into it. Different than the kiss you shared in the kitchen; this one wasn’t hurried. It was gentle and exploratory, like a flower slowly opening up to the light of the sun. Dean had never received a kiss so tender. You kissed him like you meant it in your heart. It made him feel, special. Cherished.

When you finally drew back and let your head fall back against the pillow, you saw the look of pure astonishment on his face. You smiled, your eyes half-mast. “I feel better now.”

He brushed the hair back from your face, letting his fingers run through the silky strands. You were already drifting off; he shook his head. “Are you even going to remember this tomorrow?”

“Dunno,” you murmured, finally letting sleep take you. “But you will.”

Dean sat there for several minutes, considering your words as your breathing evened out and became slow and deep. He did like you, far more than he should. You weren’t his type at all. You were prim and proper. You valued intelligent conversation and musty library books. You drank chamomile tea and wore fancy clothes. If anything, you were more Sam’s type. Classy. Ladylike. In that moment, the salty hunter realized two things. One, he wondered just how ladylike you were going to be lying naked beneath him. And two, he was in trouble. Big, big trouble.

#dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #jensen ackles #supernatural #spn fic #Trouble

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sleepingdeath-light · 11 months

Text

watching their s/o get possessed hcs ; poly!sashannarcy

requested by ; anonymous (17/06/23)

fandom(s) ; amphibia

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; anne boonchuy, marcy wu, sasha

outline ; “HIHI I SAW THAT YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN

May I request an amphibia one shot/headcannons of Sashannarcy x fem! reader where reader gets possessed by the core instead of Marcy?

I’m not sure if this counts as UCS but I guess I can label it as such! <333

Anyways, don’t forget to eat and drink water! I hope people aren’t stressing you out with all the requests, have a lovely day/night! <333 :}”

warning(s) ; angst, mind control

this wasn’t meant to happen

this really wasn’t meant to happen

it shouldn’t be happening

but it was

if your death was the worst moment in their lives then what had followed was hell on earth — worse than, even

your mind erased and caught up in a hostile takeover, your body broken and soaked and commodified into a makeshift suit for an entity beyond human comprehension

a vessel

a toy

a shell

a suit

it was something out of a horror movie, but this time they couldn’t see a way out — couldn’t pause and walk away, couldn’t look up any conclusion, couldn’t pray for a sequel to give them closure

they were trapped, flies in a web watching this amalgamation of self importance and selfishness puppeteer your body without care or consideration

watching your limbs and joints contort further than is possible, watching your head loll lifelessly atop your neck, watch your abdomen fold in on itself

like you didn’t even have bones in the first place

unnatural

wrong

god they felt sick just looking at you — it… whatever you’ve been turned into

they blame themselves

marcy takes it the worst — she was the one who brought you all to amphibia, she was the one who trusted andrias and she was the one who was meant to be possessed

you were only like this — only being puppeted by an unseen ‘god’ — because you saved her life

sasha hates herself because your last interaction, last proper conversation before everything fell apart, was an argument — she’d told you that she hated you (she didn’t, couldn’t) and then you were gone and she fled like a coward

you were only in this position because she couldn’t put her ego aside and tell you what was actually happening

anne falls into a depressive spiral when she’s thrust back to earth — replaying the moment you were stabbed hundreds of times over, the image of your wide eyes and the blood dripping out of your chest and mouth printed onto the insides of her eyelids

you were only this way because she failed you

to anne; she wasn’t strong enough

to sasha; she wasn’t honest enough

to marcy; she wasn’t aware enough

they all failed you, they had just a much a role in this as andrias and his masters — at least in their minds

all were culpable

all of their hands stained with your blood, a red that will never wash out

but even now as they stare at you — it, them, whatever — after thinking, no knowing, that you were dead and gone, even now as your voice and body are used to goad and mock and attack and torment them they still can’t bring themselves to hurt you

can’t breathe

can’t dodge

can’t fight

they just stare and weep and sob and it’s ugly and messy and sad and desperate

but what else could they have done — except for everything they didn’t do

this was their penance, frozen in place as this spectre of their collective failure — this twisted amalgam of memory and mockery of their loved one — gives the order to have their friends killed and their home invaded

surrounded by gore that stains and drips and clings to their skin even through their armour and that they feel crawling beneath their skin — nagging, niggling guilt and fear

but they can’t hide forever, they know that well enough, and after taking their time well they start to fight again

tearing down machines and loyalists

ripping apart metal and smashing circuits to a fine powder

self pity and grief morphing into anger and vengeance as they launch at the cables linking you — whatever remains of you, at least — with your captor

a barrage of green, red and blue the last thing the not-you sees before everything goes black and the connection cuts out

#sleepingdeath #female reader #angst #angst hcs #amphibia angst #amphibia x reader #sashannarcy x reader #amphibia sasha x reader #amphibia sasha angst #marcy woo x reader #marcy woo angst #anne boonchuy x reader #anne boonchuy angst

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chalametsimp · 2 years

Text

Sex and Candy 18+

(Reupload for tags)

Pairings: Timothée Chalamet x Reader

Summary: Timmy has a plan to get you on your knees. A plan that involves great news.

Warnings: smuttttt, fingering, oral both receiving, leg riding, unprotected sex, cum swallowing, daddy kink kind of. this is naughty okay.

Word Count: 3.1k+

Authors Note: sorry this took so long my weekend was kind of crazy. Had four of my parents friends over so I had to entertain all weekend and I recouped most of yesterday. Tried to post this last night but tumblr hates me. I hope you enjoy despite how long this took me. Love you guys. Gif not mine. Title from Marcys playground

You were sat at your kitchen counter, typing something for work on your laptop when Timothée came home, you immediately stopped your typing when you heard the door unlock and he stepped in. “Hello, my darling!” He called out for you, tugging off his denim jacket. “I have excellent news!”

“In here, babe!” You called back for him and soon he found you. Timothée placed his jacket on the counter and strode over to you, arms immediately wrapping around your waist. His chest pressed against your back and his chin rested on your shoulder, eyes looking to what you were working on. It was suddenly the least of your concerns.

“Welcome home.” You craned your neck to look at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “What’s your news, sunshine?”

He smiled wide at the nickname and returned the kiss, this time on your lips. It was short and sickeningly sweet. “It’s big, it’s huge.” Timothée beamed, standing up straight. He placed his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them gently.

“I know it is.” You laughed and he rolled his eyes as you wiggled your eyebrows at him. “Just tell me!”

“No. You have to guess!” He laughed, the beautiful sound filled the room and made your stomach do a flip. “It’ll be fun, I promise. If you guess right, there’s a prize involved.” Timothée winked.

It was more so a gift for him, but he knew that you would enjoy it too.

“Okay fine, you’re lucky you’re so cute.” You chuckled and pinched his cheeks lightly where they were upturned in a wide smile.

Timothée pretended to be offended but he leaned into your touch, regardless. He always missed you when he had to be away for the day, he didn’t even like to think about the times you had to spend months apart. “Do I at least get a hint?” You pouted, pulling him out of his thoughts of you and how happy he was to be home.

“Of course you get a hint, I actually just picked it up.” You now noticed the bag in his hands and your curiosity was piqued. It as a paper bag and it had the words ‘the Sweet Shop’ in gold writing. He started to pull out the contents. Four different takeout containers and two chocolate bars. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“I don’t get it.” You stared at the containers before you with a baffled expression on your face.

He thought the look on your face was adorable but he had to tell you “Just open one.”

You did as he instructed, popping open the first white and red package. It was filled to the brim with peach rings. “Something to do with peaches? James and the giant peach?”

The guess made him laugh, he simply shook his head ‘no’. “Call me by your name, a sequel?”

He laughed again and shook his head, “No, open another one.” You said nothing and once more we’re doing as he instructed, popping open a second container. Filled with assorted hard candies of all different shapes and sizes.

“Another candyman movie and you’re the lead detective?” You mused, plucking one of the candies from its place in the container. You unwrapped it and placed it on your tongue before it disappeared into your mouth. Timothée’s eyes stared at your lips the entire time, wishing you would just guess correctly so he could show you what was hidden in his jacket over far side of the counter.

“No, one more guess.” he sighed softly “Hint, you were closer with the Roald Dahl than any of the other tries.” His eyebrows raised at you, knowing this would be the one that would make the lightbulb click on in your mind.

“Willy Wonka!” You gasped and your hand shot to your mouth for a brief moment, staring at him in disbelief when he nodded his head, curls bouncing slightly. “You’re going to be Wonka! That’s awesome, honey! I feel so stupid for not guessing that first.” You shut your laptop and turned to him, grinning. “So proud of you.”

“Thank you, baby.” He cooed, reaching forward to tug at your sleeve. “Come here and give me another kiss, I think I deserve one, hm?” You couldn’t resist the proposition so you stood from your chair and leaned forward to press your lips firmly against his. Timothée was happy you complied, smiling against your lips. His hands found there way to your face, cupping it in his hands as he groaned into your mouth. You pulled him closer by the hem of his trousers and then pulled away. He grumbled at the loss of your lips and gently pulled you up closer by your chin, trying to get another one. You couldn’t resist that either and gave him another kiss. Just one.

“What’s my prize?” You questioned, looking up at him. It was an innocent question but it made his eyes darken. “Good girls who guess correctly get a reward, right?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that… hm,” he lied “Good girls do get rewards, you’re correct.” Timothée pulled away from you and made his way to the counter and pulled a small bottle of chocolate syrup from the pocket. A confused look braced your features once again. He smirked.

“Chocolate syrup?” You asked. He nodded and stepped back over to you, setting it on the counter beside the both of you.

“Yeah, baby. Chocolate syrup.” Timothée took a step forward to run a finger up your side gently, and up to your shoulder and finally to your neck where he pushed a piece of hair away from your skin. Timothée dipped his head down to press a wet kiss to your neck, suckling gently on the skin. He whispered, hot breath fanning over your flesh, making you shiver. “Lots of fun things we can do with chocolate syrup.”

“Timothée, you pervert.” You drawled out his name with a whine and it sent blood rushing to his cock. He tried his best to not show how much it affected him.

“Oh, you love it though. Don’t you?” He teased you, nipping down gently against your skin. You didn’t respond, you couldn’t. You just shook your head and it made him chuckle. The fact that you couldn’t respond with words was just proof that you really did love it.

“Oh really?” He played back, now running one of his hands back down your side until his fingers were dipping into the hem of your panties and sliding underneath to run along your already slick folds. He rubbed his finger against your clit just barely, pulling another whine from you. “Then why is it that you’re so wet for me already? You’re a pervert too.” He tsked, finger applying more pressure to the bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked upwards into the sensation.

“I can’t help it.” You whined “You make me this way.”

“What way?” When you didn’t respond again he pulled his hand away from your heat. You groaned and tried to push your hips up into his touch. “Tell me.”

“You make me this wet.” You keened, reaching for his hand to pull it back to your cunt. “You know this, please don’t make me beg.”

“Oh but you sound so pretty when you beg.” Timothée murmured, allowing his hand to be pulled where ever you wanted it to go. “What do you want, hm?” One finger was now circling around your entrance.

“Please, Timothée, please.” Your voice was almost a cry as you begged for what you knew he would always give you. “Fingers, please. I want your fingers. Please.” Tears pricked in your eyes.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” He cooed, gently pushing you back in the direction of the stool where you gladly took a seat right at the edge. Timothée kept his finger just dragging alongside your clit before he finally was pushing the digit into your heat. A long mewl came from your lips and he smirked at the sound, using his freehand to push your thighs further apart. His eyes widened at the lewd sight in front of him, your legs spread for him, arousal nearly dripping already as he pumped a finger inside of you. He groaned your name “fuck, want to taste you.” You were always his favorite flavor of sweet, and now he really couldn’t resist.

Timothée shuffled onto his knees in front of the stool and leaned forward to gather some of your juices with his tongue. You whimpered, hips rolling closer to his face. “Please, more.” You begged again, his finger complied and moved faster inside of you, he was feeling gracious and added another one beside it. “Oh, thank you.” You sighed out in pleasure, head threatening to fall back as you tangled a hand into his hair.

He didn’t speak back as he was too focused on gliding his tongue along your wet heat and his fingers focused on pumping inside of you.

The sounds of his fingers and his tongue was almost enough to push you over the edge. You rocked your hips against his fingers as you finally looked down at him. Only to see just his curls, nose pressed to your mound as his eyes focused up on you. When you seen his eyes, you moaned out “Please, please, don’t stop. Going to cum.” Your voice was barely there but he heard it. He grunted quietly against your cunt and his fingers curled to hit your sweet spot and you cried out every time the pad of the long digits brushed against it. It only took a few more strokes of his fingers before you were cumming around his hand. Your walls clenched around him and he swore if it were any more pressure, his fingers would’ve broke. Your eyes never moved from him as he pulled them out and slipped them into his mouth, sighing at the taste. When he had cleaned them off he was reattaching his mouth around your cunt and he was lapping up what he had missed.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He groaned and stood from where he was sat on the floor, erection in his pants definitely obvious now. “Now, it’s your turn to taste something sweet.” The words sent another shiver through your body and you nodded quickly.

You knew what he meant and you attempted to stand up so you could return the favor. Your legs were wobbly and he noticed so he reached out his hand for you to take. You gladly accepted his help, taking his hand as you sunk to your knees now, hand coming up to palm him through his jeans. “Off.” You mumbled, tugging at his belt.

“So excited to have this cock in your mouth that you really need daddy’s help with his pants?” His words were thick with lust and you swallowed, nodding quickly. That was all he needed. He helped you with the belt and you popped the button open on his jeans. You tugged on the denim to watch it slide down his legs and you were immediately running your hands up his smooth, milky thighs. “You’re so good for me.” He breathed.

You reached to the hem of his boxers as he reached for the bottle of chocolate syrup that you had almost all but forgotten. You pulled his boxers down to his ankles and took his cock in your hands, leaning forward to press a kiss to the head of it. Timothée popped open the cap of the syrup bottle and you watched in awe as he poured some over the length of his cock. Your eyes glued to a trail of chocolate that threatened to spill from his cock and to the floor. You put yourself between the two, holding your tongue out underneath so the chocolate could gather on your tongue instead of on the clean floor. His eyes watched the entire thing, growing almost impossibly hard as your mouth widened for the sugary concoction.

His hips bucked forward but only a little bit so he didn’t make a mess, silently begging you to touch him. You were happy to do so and leaned forward to lick a long stripe underneath his cock, cleaning the chocolate that had gathered there. You hummed in satisfaction before running your tongue along the side. “Oh fuck.” He groaned, one hand making its way to your hair. The other hand moved to rest on your cheek, thumb running over your skin. “You look so fucking pretty down there, cleaning off daddy’s cock.”

You smiled up at him as you did the same to the opposite side, tongue ghosting over a vein in the process. Timothée nearly melted into the floor.

“Have some more, baby.” He cooed.

You didn’t need to be told that twice, your hand steadied itself against his hip and you leaned forward to finally wrap your lips around the tip, tongue swishing around, tasting chocolate and his sour pre-cum. The taste was heavenly and it made your stomach twist into knots again. You tried to ignore the fact that you were getting so wet again, just from having his cock in your mouth. You were able to hide this for a while as you took more of him into your mouth, chocolate gathering on your lips as you hollowed out your cheeks, suckling around him. Timothée grunted and his hand tugged at pieces of your hair, hips stirring.

Your thighs rubbed together in need and he noticed this, smirk growing wide. He leaned back against the counter and stepped one leg forward on the hardwood, foot pushing to spread your thighs apart. Your eyes shot open to look up at him, moving from their spot of gazing at his beautiful flesh. You whined at the feeling of the air in between your thighs, rubbing them together felt much better. You were about to pull his cock out of your mouth to protest but he rutted his hips forward at the same time, so you were almost swallowing his whole cock. Timothée wasn’t going to deprive you, however. He stepped his leg once more, closer to you and his calf rubbed against your swollen and needy clit. Your hips immediately rolled forward, pressing yourself closer to him. He chuckled, almost darkly. “You’re so cute. So needy for me that you’ll take absolutely anything that I give you.”

You couldn’t respond, you just moaned around his cock, hips desperately rolling against his leg. Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling content with him in your mouth and your clit against his skin. “You look so filthy right now. Sucking on my cock, so desperate for my touch that you’ll fuck yourself on my leg.” His voice was shaky and his grip on your hair tightened.

You moaned around his cock and it turned into a choke, mouth full of saliva. He watched intently as you pulled away slowly, a trail of drool dripping to the floor that you tried so hard to keep pristine. Timothée panted your name over and over and pushed his hips forward to ask for more. You ignored him for a moment, mouthing at his cock, slurping up some of the thick layers of saliva that had coated him. Your hips stopped rocking and you gazed up at him, eyes wide and pleading. “Please, please, fuck me. I can’t take this anymore.”

“Thought you’d never ask, angel.” His voice was softer now and he held a hand down for you to take “C’mere.” He helped you up to your feet and he turned you around, pushing your shoulders forward so you were bent over the stool.

“Hmm, please” you murmured, hips wiggling onto nothing, silently begging. Timothée didn’t waste any time as he gripped your hips and rubbed the head of his cock over your entrance, all at once pushing inside of you. “Oh, fuck!” You cried out, bracing yourself on the stool as he already was dragging his cock into your warm heat and back out.

“Sorry, I couldn’t wait any longer.” He groaned, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your shoulder “You have no idea how fucking hot you looked down there.”

“Guess I’ll have to be doing that m-more often.” You were barely able to speak, your voice a whimper. “As much as I love this cock.”

“Oh, yeah?” Timothée mused, voice high and strained. “You love it?” His hips snapped forward at a quicker pace, turned on by your praises.

“Yeah, daddy, I love it.” You whimpered, attempting to push your hips higher, up on your tippy toes. He helped you, hands underneath your hips as he pushed them up forward. You cried out at the feeling of him reaching deeper inside of you. You were both a moaning mess by now, the entire apartment filled with indecent squelching noises and skin against skin.

“Fuck you’re so hot,” he grunted, moving a finger to rub circles against your slippery clit, walls clenching around him “you’re going to make daddy cum.”

Your next words surprised him and he wasn’t sure if he could keep it in after that “I want to swallow it, daddy. Please.”

“Oh fuck, now. Now.” The sound of you desperate to have him spill down your throat was enough to send him over the edge. Timothée quickly pulled out and you scrambled back to your knees where you opened your mouth wide for him, tongue spreading out to catch his seed. He was immediately jerking his cock, only a couple of times before thick ropes shot onto your tongue and down your throat, some missing and hitting your flushed lips. He couldn’t take his eyes off the sight and a final wave of pleasure ran through him. Timothée wished he could take a picture to save that image forever.

You swallowed like always and then your tongue came back out to show him that you had consumed it all. He smiled lovingly at you, very pleased. “Such a good girl for me. Thank you.”

“Thank you.” You whispered back, leaning into his touch when his fingers reached out to run along the side of your face.

“I love you, now let’s go get you cleaned up, hm?” His voice was soft and loving now, it made you smile wide.

“I love you too.” You allowed yourself to be pulled up by the hand he extended to you. Your legs were shaking and your arms were immediately wrapping around him when you got to your feet. You buried your face into his chest.

After the two of you took a shower, you cuddled for the rest of the night and had a Willy Wonka marathon, champagne shared from a big mug. You were both sure, this was the best celebration he could have had.

#timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet one shot #timothee chalamet fanfic

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

Captain of the team

AKA: Santi’s a dom unless Will’s in the room

(Fem!Reader x Triple Frontier boys)

Summary: When it comes to group sex, you need one F to spell “fuuuck” and 3 M’s to spell “Mmm” (AKA, Santi’s not as straight as he thought, and other things he learns when the boys dick you down together.).

Genre: Porn with some plot.

Rating: EXPLICIT AS ALL HELL. DO NOT READ OR INTERACT UNLESS YOU ARE 18+ ⚠️

Word count: 20k. LONG, but broken into sections.

Author’s note: I know the TF x group sex / gangbang / poly sex has been DONE. The existing examples are stellar ✨ and each so unique that I haven’t really wanted to tackle it myself! Tbqh, I probably didn’t do anything fresh with the beloved trope (and oh boy this evolved so much as I was writing and became something entirely different to what I was shooting for) but I hope I managed to put some small spin on it, somehow, that means you enjoy reading this?! One huge disclaimer: Benny’s not there, I’m sorry, I know some of you will be exceedingly upset with me (but don’t hate me bc neither is Tom, okay - so bear in mind I could have been even meaner to you! 😂) Finally, READ THE WARNINGS to decide if it’s your thing. It’s far softer and ultimately more loving than it sounds when I just list out all of the explicit acts they perform (for real, who says gagging on dick can’t be romantic though, lol, it’s actually a thing that can be so personal 😆), but there are defo things in there which might not be for everyone! So, you’ve literally been warned! If it’s not for you, that’s fine! P.s . This is the theatrical release, I guess. The Director’s Cut went further with some of the kinks (I am a slut for some consensual degradation), but maybe you can convince me to share some deleted scenes, who knows? 😉 I also left it very open for prequels and sequels.

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT: all consensual - some consent happens off-screen. MMM on F Gangbang -> mixed M/F + M/M group sex. Things the boys to do reader (as part of planned, consensual scene): service kink; degradation; name calling (toy, slut, whore, good girl etc.) oral sex inc. gagging / brief rough oral, cum swallowing; cum play; spitting in mouth; slave/master dynamics; dom/sub dynamics (sub!reader); brief ball play (sucking, resting on face); P in V sex (unprotected); creampies; cumshots (on face / body); masturbation; fingering; oral sex (receiving); orgasm denial; anal sex (unprotected); gangbang (ish, no DP, sorry!); light slapping (clit); light choking; kissing; aftercare and lots of check-ins / love 💕 Other explicit stuff: rimming (f giving m receiving); first time having explicitly queer sex; MM anal; MM blowjob; M eating M’s cum; sub!M; MM kissing; slight praise kink including terms such as “good boy”/“baby boy”; hair pulling; slight size kink; aftercare. (ask if you’d like more info on any of the above warnings!). General warnings: alcohol mentions, Catholicism mentions, language, mild angst- implied past relationship fuck-up (vague). Disclaimer: this is not a guide to real-life sexual activity. It’s a fantasy fic! Be safe! 😊🧡

Shout-out: to @astroboots because CiCi’s Santi is basically canon to me now. Definitely influenced this Santi calling Frankie “Frank” in this fic. I didn’t used to do that but it’s the only way I can hear it now! 🙈You’re all gonna want to RUN to check out CiCi’s Homecoming series tbh, for the most beautiful Santi/Frankie/reader relationship. Trust me! 🧡 Also, I have to shout-out the OG and flawless TF gangbang fic by @mylifeliterally, the amazing Santi/Frankie threesome by @adverbedly, @autumnleaves1991-blog’s amazing Santi x reader x Benny series, and @charnelhouse’s TFboys x reader series. (What are you even doing in THIS fic to be honest because you NEED to read all of these RIGHT NOW instead!!) I’m sure there are more I need to mention too but sorry that they escape me for now! (LMK if you wanna be untagged!)

Also a huge thank you to everyone who helped me understand American football a little bit! So sorry I used my new-found knowledge in such a crude way 🍆💦😅

THEY’RE GONNA NEED A BOAT WITH HOW WET THEY’LL GET YOU 😂

Pre-Game

“You okay, baby? You ready?”. Will dips to plant a soft kiss on your temple, the moment before you enter the scene far more romantic than you’d ever have expected.

As his large, warm hands inch slow and steady down your back, over silk and lace and skin, you feel a molten heat surge in your core. A slick builds between your legs simply owing to the fact he’s fully clothed and you’re dressed in something barely there, feeling on display as his eyes rake over you.

“Yes,” you nod, a subtle hitch in your breath which grates your words - makes them husky. “Very ready.”

A knowing, confident smile inches over Will’s face and it makes you hot for him - his easy manner a clear sign of the trust and bond between you as you prepare for what lies in store beyond the door. And, even though you mirror his ease, his comfort, his piercing blue eyes study you carefully just to be sure that you want this. With affection, feeling reassured, he dips to press another tender kiss to the middle of your brow, his blond beard tickling your nose.

With a surge of confidence as you feel Will’s arousal press against your hip, you loop your arms around his neck and plant a sweet, lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. You can’t help the devilish grin which claims your face, and, feigning a coyness which you expect Will to see straight through, you bury your words against his cheek. “Do you… think they’ll enjoy me?”

Will’s chest shakes up against yours then, with a deep, resonant chuckle. It isn’t mocking - instead it is familiar, reassuring- and you can picture the creases radiating from around your golden boy’s eyes like beams of warm sun. “Don’t act all shy now, angel,” he says, tone as tender as his touch, meaning even his dirty words sound flowered. “This whole deal was your idea, you filthy little thing.”

Your lips quirk again into a mischievous smile. It was your idea, that’s right, but still, you’re not past fishing for compliments from your big strong man. “But will they? Enjoy me?” you purr.

Will’s eyes sweep over you - or as much of you as he can see with you held so close. That means your face and lips and tits, and a hum of appreciation reverberates in his chest. “Baby. How could they not?” he praises, voice thick and dripping like warm honey. “You’re delectable. Delicious.”

You love him like this, slow moving and teasing and all restrained. Will can end you with the barest of touches, as it makes you crave what you know the man is capable of unleashing. The latent power of him. The force of him.

Even now, you gasp as he gingerly grips your chin, tilting your head to the side and you follow his lead, offering your neck to him freely. The air itself grows syrupy as he sinks his pink mouth to your skin, all supple warm tongue and ticklish brush of blonde goatee against your pulse point. You whimper, as he works a chain of kisses up to the shell of your ear, decorating you with a string of glistening pearls. “So pretty,” he whispers, praises, and his voice shivers down to your bones, making you heat from within. As you whimper for him, you feel the curl of a satisfied smile against your cheek - a shifting scrape of facial hair and muscle. “So pretty… and we’re about to ruin you, Princess.”

Fuck. At the mere suggestion of what is to come, a deep note keens in your chest, breathy and pitching-up at the end - a cracked-open sound already.

You can feel Will getting excited too, the press of his warm firm body all bulges - pecs and biceps and bulk and increasingly, that thick, straining mass beneath denim.

You pull away from him though, sultry, teasing, and his lips and eyes and hands and his whole damn being chase your skin - the feel of you. His cock even fills to reach for you, the tenting arousal evident in his jeans.

“Mmmph,” Will sounds, tone petulant as he immediately feels the loss of your warmth in his arms. “Can’t I have you all to myself just a little bit longer?”

Well, now there’s a thought. The smouldering look he’s giving you is certainly tempting; but, you resist this pleasure, in favour of the pleasures in store. “No, handsome,” you coo, in a husky tone which you hope sinks all the way into his crotch. “Remember? Today you have to share.”

A gulp trails down Will’s throat and you feel some pride in it - he’s so hard to fluster - and then he is sweeping his eyes over you just once more, head to toe this time, and shaking his head in utter disbelief at the sight of you -“Goddamn”. Next, he slides his warm grip down your arm and along the underside of your wrist. As a pleasant hum beds down under your skin he raises your hand to his lips, the pad of his thumb gently stroking back and forth as he plants a kiss to each of your knuckles like some gallant prince. And then, adjusting his erection with a downwards tug on the crotch seam of his pants, he offers you an adoring, doe-eyed grin. “I can’t wait to watch you, angel. You’re gonna look so good taking care of us.”

Then, with fascination, you watch his expression and manner subtly shift. You watch him enter his role, and his eyes are sterner and colder as he turns to you. You feel a thrill deep in the pit of your stomach as he reaches one arm -roped with popping veins- up to the back of your neck and squeezes, driving you on towards the door with a measured shove, his voice a deep, dark drawl now. “Now get in there, slut, the boys are waiting.”

They are.

Waiting.

Waiting with one express purpose.

Today, Will is going to share, and together, they are going to ruin you.

First Quarter, Second Quarter

“Fuuuck,” Frankie keens, his voice deep and frayed and stuttering apart like an engine struggling to start as your mouth sinks down on his length, again and again and again with a delicious glug.

Frankie should know fine well he’s supposed to play into the role; to get a little rough with you - that’s what you want - but apparently what you’re doing to him feels far too divine for that, because instead of... anything, his head is thrown back on to the lip of the couch, his eyes screwed shut and breaths entirely ragged. And his hands? His hands are wildly fisting for some purchase, claws sinking into whatever is nearby.

Well, “whatever is nearby” happens to be the sturdy thighs of Santi and Will, respectively, sat at either side of him, both entirely rapt while watching this whole thing go down - go down your throat that is.

“Jesus. Fuck is right, Frank,” Santi says in awe, his own hard cock twitching in his pants and he has to shift in his seat - has to unzip his fly to make room because he’s too full. Too full and tender as Frankie twists, burying his head in his buddy’s neck and moaning right next to his ear, hot breath fanning over Santi’s neck and making him shiver - sending a glorious prickle crawling under his skin and all the way to the tip of his dick.

Santi’s never thought about his friend in that way -at least, not before right now, not that he’d admit- but the other man’s noises are… certainly doing something for him. Something in the crotch area, specifically.

Goddamn, so is the sight of you. Holy shit, look at you, in this silly little outfit, half your tits and ass hanging out, and that smug, self-satisfied glint in your eyes. That look in your eyes as you accommodate Frankie almost all the way. How fucking pleased you are with yourself because of the fact you have all three men sat hard and straining before you and so eager to be… serviced.

“Please, she isn’t even trying. Stop teasing and make him come, honey,” Will commands coolly, reaching across Frankie’s lap to grab you by the back of the head in his broad, sure grip. To do Frankie’s job for him and drive you down on the man’s length until you are spluttering with it.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Santi exclaims as Will holds you there and you take it, all the way, and -fuck- he had expected this would be a fun experience for him, sure, but he’d never realised how much he would enjoy watching. Watching Will’s brow burdened with purpose, face stern and all angles and his piercing blue eyes cold and hard and intimidating. Watching Frankie lose it, eyes screwed shut and lips parted and squirming - almost bucking off the couch in ecstasy and desperately clawing at anything he can touch like something feral. And those noises out of his mouth? Holy shit.

Finally, and last but definitely not least, Santi is awed by the sight of you, so dutifully gagging on Frankie’s length as Will holds you down. Holds you until you can’t take it - until you tap out with your palms on their thighs and he allows you to surge off of him, all spluttering noises and cock swollen, spit-shined lips, still linked to Frankie by gossamer threads, and that alone would be enough - more than enough to tip Santi over the edge but you don’t relent there though; no. Next, your hand wraps around the slick base of Frankie’s cock, making him look huge in your grip, your liberal spit inching down over his balls and you begin to pump, your tongue and lips working all over Frankie’s shaft and his artfully contoured head until he is undone and filling your mouth up.

Fuck, that’s a pretty mouth.

Fuck, that’s a pretty cock too.

Santi’s own arousal throbs, in dire need of some attention by now, and so he grips himself in the circle of his hand and squeezes a little. Squeezes; however, he immediately has to stop. Has to stop pumping himself or he’d nut at the sight of Frankie still pulsing his seed into your throat, flooding over your tongue, that deep crimson flush over the ruddy head of him, and fuck, you’re swallowing it down and all the while you’re looking at Santi. Looking at Santi and giving him the eye since it’s no use looking at Frankie - the man’s head buried in Will’s chest by now, the larger man smoothing his hand over his cheek and his patchy beard and helping him come back down with a smug grin plastered over his chiselled features.

So, here you are instead, eyeing Santi like nothing he’s ever seen -as though you’re promising him “you’re next” even as you swallow Frankie’s load down with relish, his hot cum slipped down your throat and the residual salt tang of him being licked from your teeth and lips and fuck if Santi doesn’t wanna kiss you while you still taste of him.

Santi doesn’t kiss you though. Doesn’t make a move to. Doesn’t make any move at all. Just sits there with his jaw slack and his dick in his hand as though he’s not good at this. As though he’s forgotten all the ways he can take a woman apart or all the ways he might get his rocks off. Instead of making a move -the thing he does, the thing he’s fucking known for- he’s holding his own dick in his hand and he can hardly believe what he’s seeing. Can hardly believe it’s true.

It all feels unreal; something akin to the moments after an explosion when all there is is ringing - blurred noise and slurred sound and blurred reality except this time it’s a good thing, his body vibrating; humming with pleasure already and you haven’t even touched him.

You haven’t touched him… yet, but the dark promise in your eyes hints at what’s coming.

He’s next.

And so, after doing a thorough job of milking Frankie for every drop, draining his balls dry, you lift off the man’s softening dick with a pop, his flushed head shined and sucked clean, and yet you only look hungry for more.

Hungry, and you bite your lower lip and dip your head - playing all deferential - and you look to Will. You look to Will, and Santi always fancied himself in charge but it’s obvious now - it’s Will, isn’t it? The only fucker in the room holding it together, sitting there with a shit-eating grin and looking about as fucking pleased with himself as you do while he watches his woman dismantle his buddies, taking them apart piece by mother-fucking piece.

“Enjoying yourself, baby?” Will asks you in his deep, steady drawl and you offer him a wicked smile. You are brazen as all hell, looking your fucking boyfriend in the eye while your lips and chin are still shined with spit from gagging on Frankie’s size and Santi can’t handle how fucking hot you are. How this is the hottest fucking thing he’s ever done, ever seen, and you still haven’t even touched him.

“Yeah, I thought so, you fucking whore,” Will scolds, his expression darkening, the smile dropping from his face and his words gathering dark. “Give Pope’s cock some attention now, you greedy little toy.”

Fuck. He’s next.

Santi’s next and he feels already like he’s floating outside of his own body. Floating like he’s in some fever dream, but somehow Will’s voice drags him back into the room. “You good, Pope?” Will asks with just a hint of amusement as his buddy is lost for words, and Santi finally shivers down into his own body. Will’s voice is steady - deep and earthy, and Santi realises suddenly that it always did ground him, even in the heat of battle. Always brought him back to the moment, giving him comfort and purpose, Will a constant calm amidst choas.

Santi blinks wordlessly still -has he even fucking said anything this whole damn time?- his jaw dropped open and his lashes fluttering as though he’s a shy virgin or some shit. “Uh… uh-huh,” he insists, voice grogged by lack of use, and a slow pearly smile drags over Will’s chiselled features. “Good. Want a turn of her?” he offers, and fuck, was his voice always so deep? Did it always hit so deep?

Does he? Does he want a turn? Hell, yeah he does. He’ll probably nut in you in seconds but yes - yes he fucking does, thank you very much.

“Yes,” Santi rasps, and the word barely comes out, so he tries it again. “Yes. Yeah, I do. Please.” Fuck if he knows why he’s being so damn polite about it, but it is what it is. He needs you. He’d beg for it if he had to but look at you, so willing.

“Yeah you fucking do,” Frankie praises as he comes back down to earth, still panting as he turns his head back from Will’s chest, bringing his voice tantalisingly close again to Santi’s ear, his lips so close to the bare skin at the column of his neck that if he leaned a little he could kiss him. “Shit. Feels so good in that wet little mouth, man.”

Christ, Frankie talking dirty is something else.

“Give him a turn,” Will orders coolly, eyebrows raised and head dipped and tone stern like he won’t fucking tell you again. The Miller brother is apparently the only one of the lot of them hitting the brief, even as his own erection sits nestled beneath the band of his black underwear, his jeans unzipped to offer breathing room to the veiny, straining mass of him.

This brief, this idea? It was you - it was all you, and then suddenly it was all of them too.

You had this fantasy, see. About being used. But not just being used by anyone. Being used by them. About them all watching the game -or whatever, something on the flatscreen. Ignoring you mostly, except for when you were serving them. Bringing them snacks, beers, anything they asked for, whilst wrapped up like a present in this obscenely skimpy little outfit. And then, the scene progressing. Serving them in other ways too, while they treated you like a little toy, made for their pleasure. While they watched the game or whatever and barely acknowledged you except when they were using you to get off.

You’d been very clear about that. Very explicit about how you enjoyed being degraded a little. You’d wanted them almost bored with it.

Well, it’s funny then, isn’t it? Because Santi has never been further away from bored in his goddamn life. He has never been so riveted, so captivated, and all he’s done so far is sat with his dick in his hand and fucking watched.

You flash a bratty, insolent look to Will as he speaks - God you’re a minx, fucking delicious - and the man licks his lips at the sight of you, kneeling and compliant and eager and about to be used all over again. Santi watches Will work his throat around a hard swallow. Watches his eyes darken with lust all his own and he knows the man’s envisaging taking his turn with you. And on the flip side, Santi is engrossed with the way you are held rapt as well, bound and controlled effortlessly by Will’s cool, quiet authority. Speaking of: “Stop distracting me from the game and suck on Pope’s cock - I won’t be pleased if I have to make you.”

Well, Santi’s definitely not going to argue with that plan - and it looks like you’re not either. He’s certainly not; not after the noises Frankie was just making. “Yeah, yeah,” he encourages, whisper soft, tipping his chin up as you slink towards him on your knees, an utterly devastating glint in your eye. “That’s it, hermosa,” he encourages, voice sunken with need and barely there - as if he’s never given an order in his fucking life. Never spoken a word in his fucking life. “Come put your mouth on me.”

Christ - never mind Frankie coming apart- he couldn’t have looked further from bored while you sucked him off and Santi’s not sure he’s got the memo either. You want him to be mean, but look at you. He just wants to fucking worship you.

He loves you too much to-

No. Wait.

No. He parks that thought for later. Buries it even. Maybe for a therapy session where he can talk about why on Earth he’d fall for his best friend’s girl.

Instead, he focusses up. After all, it’s not like he isn’t into the idea of all this - not like he doesn’t get the premise of all of them treating you some kinda way. For sure, it turns him on too - more than he could have realised.

Even the discussions beforehand had gotten Santi as hard as a rock. In the weeks leading up to this, he can’t remember ever jerking off quite so vigorously or so often. Can’t remember coming quite so hard in a long while. The conversations about which skimpy little outfit you would wear, and the fashion shows which followed. Talking about exactly what you liked (and didn’t), exactly what they could do to you (and what they couldn’t). What you could do to them and all the ways how. You’d all been meticulous about planning it - Will especially, of course, like it was a fucking military operation. Hell, Santi could swear they’d done less prep pre-Lorea.

Everyone was clear on their role; but, now that Santi has you here, on your knees like this, fuck if he doesn’t want to give you every shred of his focus and attention like you deserve.

Luckily, he’s a generous lover - if you want him to be mean, he can do that for you. Can give you what you need - take care of you like that. “Yeah, come here,” he coaxes you, his voice finally coming back to him, laying a sugared-trap. “Open your mouth,” he commands - still softly, still brandishing his ruddy, veined length in his hand, a purple flush creeping over the head of him. Shifting his hips forward on the couch so that he can smack you in the cheek with his need-laden cock a few times for good measure, before dipping the head of him into your wetness and warmth, letting the heaviness of him fall over your tongue and the weight of his hand settle on top of your head. “There you go, baby girl,” he soothes as you take him, opening up around him and getting used to his girth. “That’s it. Such a good little toy.”

Shit, Frankie wasn’t wrong, you feel good - and a cracked, disbelieving laugh even keens in his throat, his hips jolting up on instinct as he seeks to bury himself balls-deep in your mouth.

“Hnnng. You look pretty getting sucked off, Pope,” Frankie rumbles next to his ear and fuuuuck.

Santi could nut right now. “Unnf, you fucking asshole, Frank,” he curses, as he feels a jolt of pleasure zip along his length - making his whole body tingle.

But, thankfully -and he’s not even sure how- Santi remembers his role, and maybe that’s a good thing right now. Maybe it’s a good thing that he can simply guide your head down on his shaft like you’re a little toy. That he can simply sit there in his baseball cap, jeans pushed down around his hips, obnoxiously chewing his gum and ever so casually fucking into you. Watching the flickering flat screen and focussing on the background drawl of the commentator instead of how good it feels between his legs. Maybe it’s a good thing - because if Santi directed his full attention to you, like he wants to - if he directed his attention to Frankie or even Will, each of them languidly stroking their hard-ons in his periphery... If he did that, he’d come undone right there and then, and after so long waiting for you, he is keen to make this last.

That’s all very well, except - ohhhhh. Ah. Jesus, where did you misplace your gag reflex all of a sudden because he’s fucking buried in you to the hilt, your nose settled all the way down into the patch of dark curls, forehead pressed against the slight softness of his stomach.

Grabbing your hair in his fist, Santi pulls you off him urgently, his hips stuttering, breathing deeply until he can regain some morsel of control.

You look at him then - how you had looked at him once, so many years ago; before Will - your gaze veiled with innocence and lashes batting up at him and devouring him and wrecking him and he can hardly tear his eyes away.

Apparently the others can’t look away from you either, resonant hums of approval coming from his right, hands pumping their stiffened cocks with increasing vigour.

Still, Frankie pauses his own ministrations for a moment as Santi gusts out a breath, warm and sweating and shuddering and on the edge. “Come here, idiota,” the man breathes, deceptively soft, gingerly lifting the baseball cap from off of Santi’s head and rifling a hand through his grizzled curls for good measure.

Santi tries to ignore all of it. You, the look of you, the feel of you. The way Frankie’s small act of service makes his stomach flip. The way your hands are pressed flat and snaking up his thighs. The way Frankie’s hand lingers on his head a little longer than necessary, fingers raking through the length at his crown. “Better?” Frankie asks him, in a familiar tone. A tone that says he promises to always be there when Santi is in a pinch. To be there whether he’s bleeding out on some jungle floor or whether he’s too drunk on your mouth to take his hat off while you suck his balls dry.

“Better?” Frankie repeats, and Santi imagines answering his question with a kiss, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t yet, but as he turns his head to his buddy there is the hint of a promise there too. A promise that he’ll get his turn as well. A promise Santi would be keen to chase if you weren’t sucking his soul out of his dick like you’re trying to exorcise him from his own body. “Fuck. Look at this, boys,” Santi says in awe before he even really realises what he’s saying. “Fucking look at this pretty little slut choking on my cock.”

The boys chuckle next to him, throaty and deep and gruff and it does things to him, especially as your tongue circles diligently around the tip of him. “She loves your cock, Pope,” Will drawls. “Uhhh. Look at her - the little cumslut’s so hungry for your load.”

Santi wasn’t ready. Ready and willing, yes; but not prepared. For how much he’d enjoy being watched.

And, uhhhhh, holy shit, apparently you liked being talked about like this - like you’re not even there as they compare notes - because next, you hum pleasantly around his length. You suck him more vigorously and reach your hand up to squeeze and tug his balls, and Santi tips his head right back, moaning into Frankie’s neck as you work him.

Jesus, the man smells good.

“Fuuuck, cariño,” Frankie breathes, a tremor in his voice and Santi isn’t even sure. Isn’t sure whether his buddy is talking to you or to him; but part of him doesn’t much care - either way he likes it.

Santi is on the edge. He’s on the edge and, in this moment, he looks to Will, a helpless, sideward glance. He looks to Will because of course he does. Because that’s who everyone looks to when they’re in need, when they’re needy, when they need an order, and he watches Will tug his shirt off over his head, putting his rippling muscles on display, his latent power obvious and primed and his blue eyes intent on your mouth and Santi’s cock filling it. Looking at him too. Enjoying him too.

Fuck.

Santi’s eyes screw shut then and he’s not faring much better than Frankie had by this point - not that’s he’s complaining - the sight of you and sound of Frankie and raw power of Will almost too much. Almost. Too much and yet somehow he wants… more.

“Wait ‘til we’re all done with you. Gonna paint you with cum, baby. Fill all your greedy holes, huh?” Santi moans hard when Will says that, and his eyes would roll back into his head -probably- if they weren’t already fluttered closed, long dark lashes fanning on his cheek.

He wants to. Wants to paint you. Fill you. But Santi listens to Will and he can almost imagine the man is talking to him. About him and not you.

That thought, along with the wicked sensations you’re delivering gets Santi far too close to the edge all over again, and so he tugs on your hair to have you release him from the wet, slippy channel of your throat. His busted knees quaking beneath him -so much so that he thinks this might be it, might finally be the moment they decide give out- Santi stands, tugging his tee over his head and tossing it aside. Shifting his jeans and boxers further down his thighs with a jangle of his belt, baring his ass to Frankie and Will and not caring.

And then… Then, he looks back at you, kneeling ever so obediently and expectantly at his feet. With a grunt, his brow burdened with a furious need, Santi takes his length in his own fist and begins to pump, with a pace suggesting he’s about to spill his load. You simply smirk deliciously, raising an eyebrow and tipping your face up towards him before closing your eyes and bracing - flinching at intervals as you await the sudden spurt of thick ropes of come being dumped over your face. “Nuh-uh. Open your mouth, you little slut,” he growls, enjoying this power play, the mischievous glint in your eyes encouraging him. “Open your mouth. Gonna come over your tongue and I don’t want you to swallow. Keep it in there, understand? Let me see it.”

He hears a needy, awed moan from behind him and meanwhile a whine slips from your lips - the sounds a divine contrast of hard and gruff and sweet and liquid.

You answer him, making the closest sounds to a yes Santiago as you can with your mouth open wide for him, pink tongue glistening. E, aaa-eee-aaa-ooo.

And then, Will is standing too to get a better view. Frankie also. The men stand until they’re all crowding you, lengths brandished as you kneel. They are stood forming a gaggle around you, delivering mumbled, awed words of both praise and degradation, the syllables mingling with the wet, rhythmic fap of Santi’s hand and then…

Liquid.

Warm and sudden ropes of salt sprayed into your mouth, over your lips, across your cheek as Santi’s aim falters in the moment. As he stutters his hips into his hand and paints you with his thick, pearly seed.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl,” Will praises.

“Show me,” Frankie asks in awe and you stick out your tongue, almost proudly. You exhibit your face covered in his load and slipping from your smooth skin, coursing down towards your jaw.

Then, Will grabs the underside of your chin in his hand and stoops over, his long, toned body hinging at the hips. “Yeah, show us. Keep that pretty mouth open.” You moan, flowered vowel noises and Will just grips you harder, tipping your chin up and ceremoniously spitting in your mouth.

Well, fuck.

If Santi could come all over again - if it was possible - he thinks he would in that moment, watching Will do this to you and you loving it. Listening to him order you around. Telling you to swallow down Santi’s load then show them all your mouth is empty. Dragging your head towards his crotch so that he can rest his balls over your mouth and nose, rubbing them on you and moving the remaining come -his come- around your face.

Santi wonders if Will might take your mouth too, but he’s still showing some restraint it seems. Still patiently waiting his turn, and so instead, his touch softens around your jaw. He strokes your cheek tenderly despite the mess of spit and seed. “You good, baby?” he asks you softly, checking-in. “You liked that, huh?”

Will brings you to standing and you grip his forearms to steady yourself and you smile - a bright, beautiful smile that knocks Santi for six. Then, you tongue the remaining pearls of him from your lips before wiping your mouth on the back of your arm. “Fuck, yeah.”

Will looks at you and the energy between the two of you is sizzling. Alive and consuming and Will’s hard as a rock between your bodies and God, Santi would love to watch the man take you. Would love to watch his primed, coiled muscles in action, dominating your form. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it before. Hasn’t imagined it.

“Let me feel you, huh?” Will purrs, his lips twitching into a smile. “Let me feel how wet you are?”

Santi watches, his jaw dropped open all over again, still reeling from that orgasm and still unable to tear his eyes away from you. Unable to move away as Frankie wraps and arm around his bare shoulders and tugs him a little closer into his side, even as he puts his dick away and pulls up his jeans.

Santi and Frankie both watch, as Will’s hand winds around your hips and ass and disappears in between your thighs, and they don’t see his fingers spear you from this angle but they see it play across your face, the flutter of your eyes and the knitting together of your brows and the way you almost collapse into Will, arms bundling into his sturdy chest as you are finally allowed a morsel of pleasure for yourself. They hear Will’s halfway wicked chuckle as he works himself inside you, his arm pumping, roped with popping veins and tendons. “Fucking dripping,” he drawls, managing to sound impressed and scolding all at once as you languish against him, and Santi swears he can hear your slick being forced out of you.

Then, Will abruptly removes his hand from beneath your excuse for a skirt, earning a groan from you and revealing his two middle fingers to the other men. They are glistening up to the knuckle with your juices, which he smears unceremoniously along your chest as he wipes himself clean on you.

“Think you’re having too much fun, whore,” Will scolds, tugging your outfit down over your tits and grabbing one breast harshly in his broad grip, giving it a tug. “Don’t go forgetting your place, Princess. This isn’t for you, understand?Fuck. Santi should move, he thinks. Say something, do something. Anything. Totally should; but he can’t. He’s rooted to the spot, Frankie’s arms still wrapped around his shoulders. “Now go and get some beers and make yourself useful.”

Will’s tone is harsh yet playful - just as playful as the look in your eyes as you nod deferentially in response to his command, and the small exchanges are not lost on Santi. He sees when Will crooks his finger and massages that spot just behind your earlobe. He sees his blue eyes search yours until you give him a soft nod of reassurance, Will dipping to whisper that he’ll be right out before his eyes follow you adoringly out of the room.

Then, standing there like a fucking Adonis, shirtless and powerful and with his jeans wide open at the crotch, the band of his boxers slung under his shaft and balls and not a hint of embarressment or self-consciousness as his erection looks fit to burst, Will turns the scope of his attention towards the remaining people in the room. Of course, that’s Santi and Frankie. “Well?” he asks, surely knowing the answer already. “Enjoying my girl?”

Santi lets out a choked sound which he hopes passes for “yes”, and to his side Frankie expels a throaty chuckle- a noise that Santi always thought was one of the most beautiful in the damn world but which sounds even more gorgeous post-BJ, apparently. “She’s a dream, man.”

She -you… you are a dream, alright.

Will’s eyes sparkle with pride and he slaps Frankie on the upper arm, before turning to Santi. “You okay, Pope? You look wrecked.”

“Yep. M’good.” He is good, and his whole body is still humming pleasantly.

Still, Will steps a little closer to smooth his palm across the stubble on the smaller man’s cheek, before -to Santi’s surprise- dipping to plant a smacker of a kiss to the centre of his forehead. “You beautiful fuckers,” he grins, smiling at the both of them, and then, an aside. “Take care of him, Frankie, while I check on my Princess?”

“Got it.”

Santi should feel offended at the insinuation he needs taking care of, perhaps, but as Frankie’s warm eyes fall on him that thought falls out of his head and he simply staggers backwards, seating himself on the couch with a huge, contented sigh, his legs all nervy and shaking.

Will turns back briefly when he reaches the door, with one final thought. “There’s some water and-“

“-Go. I know how to take care of him,”Frankie insists, almost defensively, and, with a nod, Will takes his cue to leave. Then, Frankie crouches before Santi and smooths a hand on top of his thigh, his voice hitting far different when directed towards him. Somehow fuller. Richer. “I know how to take care of you, huh, pendejo?

“Yeah, Frank,” Santi admits, and he doesn’t know why his chest tightens with emotion in that moment, but it does.

Meanwhile, Frankie reaches over to the cooler by the couch and grabs a chilled bottle of water. “Good. Now drink up. Judging by the size of your load you just lost half your bodily fluids. Christ.”

Santi’s chest shakes with a hearty chuckle. “Was fucking good man. I’m still shaking.”

“Yeah. Yeah, man… and we’re just getting started.” Frankie slaps his hand on to Santi’s thigh, but then it just… lingers there, his touch warm even through the denim.

Santi’s softening cock twitches inside his jeans. It’s not lost on him that Frankie is in the same position you were moments ago. Not lost on him at all.

The two men lock eyes then, and Frankie abruptly clears his throat, surging up from the floor and reaching up to tame his mussed hair. “Stop staring and drink up, pendejo,” Frankie warns, and Santi softens the intensity of his stare.

Still, Frankie’s words echo in his mind, and he can’t help but stare just a little, especially as the man zips his jeans up over his softening length, his trimmed pubes still peeking out above the waistband.

We’re only just getting started.

Half-time

“Hey, beautiful.” Will announces himself before slipping up behind you in the en suite, gently wrapping his arms around you as you gargle mouthwash - getting the residue of cum from out of your mouth before round 2.

After you spit, he settles his hand at the back of your neck, his thumb stroking back and forth. “You okay, baby? Not too rough? Too… anything?”

“No. If anything you’re going easy on me, Captain. Sent me away after two dicks,” you sing-song.

Will chuckles. “It’s not you I’m worried about. Honestly, I think Pope needed a minute. Talk about living up to his call sign - I think you actually made him see God.”

“Hmm. Well I have been told my blow jobs are a religious experience,” you guffaw, spinning in the loop of Will’s arms until you face him, getting to see his bright smile head-on. “Really though, is he doing okay?”

“Mmm, yeah,” Will reassures, a little frown appearing at his brow. “I just wonder… if things take the direction I think they might, are you good if we change the scene up a little?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s just say, it would involve a different kind of teamwork.”

“Okay,” you nod, and Will is surprised that you don’t ask for more details. “I trust you to keep us safe, baby.”

Will’s eyes glow with more than a little pride at that - a pride which quickly shifts into hunger. “God. Let me kiss that dirty mouth of yours, hmm?” You tip your chin eagerly towards him and he swipes his tongue into your mouth, his hands slipping down to knead the meat of your bare ass beneath this skimpy outfit. “Mmm. Can I feel how wet it got you again? Please?”

“This is merely the staging area, Captain Miller. If you want to sample me you’ll have to wait your turn downstairs.”

He swipes his tongue into your mouth again, the kiss hungrier. “Hmmph. Good thing I like waiting.”

You smile and wriggle playfully out of his grip. He makes it easy - he unhands you immediately - and you finish straightening yourself up in the mirror. “Now… do I still look pretty?”

“Even more delectable.”

“See you in there?”

“Mmm-hmm. Okay, baby.” He dips to steal another quick kiss, his tongue shoving over yours and earning a horny groan from him. “You still taste of cum, you slut.”

“Love you too,” you coo with a teasing, devious smile.

Will winks as he sweeps out. “Damn. I’m a lucky man.”

“You sure are,” you tease. “Now go join the other lucky fuckers downstairs and I’ll be right with you.”

As Will sweeps out and you watch his broad form disappear, with a final glance over his shoulder and a charming yet hungry smile, you feel somehow like you’re the lucky one.

Quarter Three

Santi isn’t ready for it. Well- that’s not quite true. He is ready and willing, but he isn’t prepared. Isn’t prepared for how good it feels. How good it looks.

He watches Frankie pull you into his lap and pop your tits from out of this silly little outfit. He watches the man gather your breasts in his broad palms and mouth at your nipples, while you make these pathetic, delicious little noises which send blood thumping straight to his cock.

He watches you be dragged off of Frankie by Will, big strong Will, as a punishment for your moans - for the way you had begun to grind your heat down on to Frankie’s denim-clad erection to get yourself off. And, it wasn’t lost on Santi that seeing Will hoist you off of the other man -seeing that latent strength in action, for the first time in a long while- was a thing of beauty. Something that made his whole body tingle.

Then, Santi watches you being a little brat about it, until Will begins to call you the kinda names which make you bite your lip and squeeze your thighs together. Names which make you wilt against him even as his hand is clasped around your chin and jaw, dragging you up until you are standing taller. Names he doesn’t mean because the man fucking adores you - that much is obvious.

You trust each other, and it’s a beautiful thing to witness. More than that; you make Will trust himself. If you didn’t, there’d be no way Will would wrap his hand around your throat like this. No way you’d let him. Not after what he’s done.

In awe then, Santi watches. Watches as Will moves and manipulates you so easily. He transports you to the table, bending you over it to reveal your exposed, tight little holes to everyone in the room. Making a show of you -if you can’t be a good toy I’ll get your holes out for everyone to see- Santi and Frankie both instinctively standing and crowding around you, hungry for a better view.

You moan as Will pulls up this flimsy little strip of fabric passing for a skirt, pushing it up past your hips and putting all of you on display for them, the globes of your ass and meat of your thighs, and that perfect glistening slit.

Will grabs your hands and holds them behind your back as you squirm your ass and hips on nothing. “Oh you like this? Little whore wants some cock, is that it? That why you’re acting up? You a thirsty little slut? A fucking attention whore?”

With a grunt, Will snakes his broad hand up your back to pin your torso down on to the surface of the table. With his other arm, his thick fingers skim idly -haphazardly, roughly- over your heat, and they come away glistening with you. Santi is rapt, as, with firm, indiscriminate pressure the man begins spreading your slick around, playing with it, spreading it over your clit and lips and one finger circling your little asshole, making the rim of it gleam, all inviting. He can’t look away as Will slaps your pussy, watching the way you writhe and moan for him so beautifully when he does it.

Santi is so aroused he almost feels light-headed.

“Fuck you’re wet. You’re enjoying this. Being on display, aren’t you? I’m just going to leave you here until we’ve all had a go, hmm? Until your holes are full of our cum.”

Santi is so hard it’s bordering on painful.

Then, without warning, Will spears two fingers inside your heat, all the way to the knuckle and you yelp, a high-pitched noise which bottoms out into a deep, chesty groan, a shiver of pleasure undulating right through your body as his girth drags through your walls and over your g-spot.

“Ready for some cock, alright,” Will confirms. “Shall I show them how to use you?”

“Yes. Yes please,” you beg, voice all throaty and undone.

Fuck this is better than anything Santi’s ever seen - in real life or in porn.

“So needy. Where do you want it?”

“In my pussy. Please.”

Then, just like that, Will’s perfect, pretty length is sunk into you, his hips pistoning back and forth, allowing no time for you to adjust to his size and taking you anyway.

His eyes roll to the sky as he is gripped by your tightness and Santi’s own cock pulses; aching, needing something.

Then, Santi is watching Will flip you on to your back, spreading your legs wide open and getting you to hold them there as he grips your ass in his palms and slams you down on to his length, his arms all bulges and his sculpted abs undulating as he works his hips.

The sounds are something else. The obscene wetness, the slap of balls against skin, the staccato grunts of Will and your cresting moans which give way to fast, abortive moans, your lips dropped open in a silent scream of pleasure.

Then, Will hinges at his hips to bring his chest down towards yours, one arm bracing against the table and the other gripping your jaw.

“You a filthy slut? You love having me balls deep in your cunt while my buddies watch?”

Will knows exactly what he’s doing. Knows that the fresh angle makes his stomach grind down on your clit. Knows how his power gets you off. Knows just what you like. Indeed, you moan a throaty affirmative, and Will clamps his free hand on your jaw until you open up for him, dipping to spit right in your mouth and over your cheek as he continues pumping in and out of you, pleasure ripping through you and maybe just a hint of pain too - only in a way you like, never more than you enjoy.

Fuck.

“Open your eyes and look at them while I fuck you. Look at them, all hard for you. Look who’s gonna be inside you next.”

The juxtaposition between the hardness and softness is something else. Will’s tight body slamming you so hard the whole table rocks, heavy balls slapping, muscles firm and pumped as he holds you in place; and yet the softness too. The lilting curve of his lips against your cheek when he folds to whisper in your ear. The unconscious kiss he plants just behind your earlobe. The way a large portion of his strength is still reined in, because he doesn’t want to hurt you; would really never hurt you in ways you didn’t like.

You start to whine and squirm all of a sudden like you’re close and Will laughs, drawing back to be perpendicular to your body, slapping your clit with a firm hand and making you yelp. “Oh no you don’t,” Wills scolds, and before you can find your release he denies you, pulling out at the last minute and groaning deep and low as he pulses creamy ropes over your stomach, cock twitching as he ekes out every drop to paint you with, watching his load pool and glisten on your belly. He grins down at you as his breaths steady, the man recovering remarkably quickly. Thriving from it. Somehow able to find words when Santi is rendered speechless and he’s only watching.

“Pope, you want a go of our little toy next? Fucked her open but she’ll fit you like a glove.”

Does he? Of course he fucking does; but he’s also fascinated by the planes of Will’s shirtless body. By the way he manipulates you so effortlessly - throws you around and puts you where he wants you - exactly how he wants you. He’s also fascinated by Frankie, his long, thick cock slightly incongruous with his lithe, soft frame. And, he’s fascinated by you. That look on your face as you hold your own legs open, unfulfilled and your pussy fluttering on air, your red-stained lips dropping open and your eyes fluttering shut.

Santi swallows, and he wants to make a move but he doesn’t. Instead, he thinks about how Frankie’s cock might look filling you up, all that size disappearing into you.

“Wanna watch Frank fuck her,” Santi says at the same time he thinks it, immediately nervous that’s he’s said the wrong thing as soon as the words are past his lips - but then Will is saying okay then and holding his damn hand out to Santi and Santi takes it and he feels safe with Will. Big strong Will, who Santi’s never called that in his head ever before today but hell, apparently now he is, and pretty Francisco, his hair curling up about his ears from writhing his head about the couch cushions and his eyes and his stomach all soft but his voice so fucking gruff and hard. And then there’s you. You all over again, and Santi might be a lapsed Catholic but, fuck, you could make him believe in heaven.

Everywhere Santi looks there is something gorgeous; someone gorgeous, and then Will is slapping the subtle curve of Frankie’s ass with a hearty, locker room chuckle as the man lines himself up with your entrance, that thick head notching against your hole. And you.

Oh god, you. Santi knows he’s meant to be mean, but wants to stroke your hair and shush you as Frankie fills you rough and balls deep, you beautiful thing.

“You okay, baby?” Will asks you, breaking the scene for a moment. “You ready for him?”

“Yes, m’good. Please Cat’. Fucking need you.”

Frankie makes a strangled sound in his throat at how desperate you are for him, and Santi finds himself pumping his length in the circle of his hand. He has to. He needs some friction.

“Tease her a little and she’ll beg you, ‘Cat,” Will offers. “It’s fucking beautiful.” Then, the hunk of a man turns his attention towards Santiago, and a heat prickles across the back of his neck, his body standing taller and stiffer - muscle memory firing as though he’s about to get an order. Standing to attention for Will, in so many ways. “You okay, Santiago? Still with us? You need to stop or take 5?” Fuck, there’s something about Will first naming him in that voice which gets his dick gets even harder than he would have thought possible.

Then Will is closer. Slipping his hand around the back of Santi’s neck to better search his eyes, but his touch trails and lingers on him a little longer, calloused pads of fingers smoothing up and into his hairline.

“Yes. Yes, I’m good,” Santi confirms, his voice sunken by need, wet and liquid and no sand left in his throat.

For a split second, Santi imagines his tongue buried in Will’s mouth - imagines the rough friction and rasp of stubble against beard like he could light a match, but then he is suckered in entirely by the sweet sight of you.

You and Frankie.

“Please. Please Frankie, fill me up,” you plead pathetically and he pushes -no, glides- inside your wetness, his hands gripping your hips and a faltered moan falling from his plush lips as he bottoms out.

“Fucking beautiful,” Will praises, looking like the cat that got the cream as he witnesses some other dude spearing his girl wide open. And fuck, it looks like Frankie is stretching you to your limit.

Santi’s cock is aching in his own hand as he watches it - watches Frankie’s dick surging in and out of you, gleaming with your creamy juices. Watches the way his size spreads your lips apart, making them all flushed and glistening as they cushion him. Your little asshole just visible when Frankie pulls out - all tight and puckered and begging for a cock too, he’d guess.

Frankie bottoms out again with a cascading groan - jeez this man is a vocal lover - and then he’s moving, pumping into you, bending his knees and getting the perfect angle to fuck up into you - the perfect angle for him, not for you, even if you do seem to be enjoying it.

“Look at Frankie go,” Will bids him, and Santi’s cheeks flush at the man’s knowledge he is looking; watching.

“She feel good, Frank?” Santi asks with a swipe of his tongue along his lower lip, and Frankie replies in the affirmative, his words barely intelligible; and then, Santi asks you a question. A question which makes his heart throb in his neck when he realises how desperately he wants the answer. “Does Frank’s cock feel good inside you, baby?”

Does it? Does it feel good? It looks like it would feel good.

You spill profuse praises, causing Frankie’s legs to tremble as he fucks you, and then Will is moving, coming up next to your face to shut you up and pressing his dick towards your mouth. “Come here baby. Lick up the mess you made of me.” With an obliging hum you wrap your lips and tongue around the head of him, sucking diligently on him even as Frankie’s cock is pounding you, sending shockwaves rippling through your flesh.

Santi watches as Will reaches to roughly knead your breasts and pinch your nipples, and he sees a shudder course all the way down your body like a wave, your hips adjusting to a new angle around Frankie and making him tip his chin to the sky and breathe quick and ragged to stave off his end.

“Fuck, she likes that. Do that again, William. Feels fucking perfect on my cock.”

You laugh. You laugh musically with Frankie deep in you and Will thumbing your nipples and it’s actually fucking beautiful. This messy, beautiful thing, and your laugh brings Santi back to his body.

To his needy body.

Santi palms himself, focussing on the head of him, just enough pressure to stay rock hard - not that he reckons he’d have any trouble while watching this.

Fuck, Santi thought he’d be more… dominant but he… he just…

He swallows.

He wants Will to tell him what to do. He wants Will to tell him what to do to you. What to do to Frankie… because he wants to do everything and he’s too spoilt for choice to choose and…

Fuck.

He wants…

“Santiago,” you croon, desperately, voice hoarse with need and stretching out the vowel sounds and extending your hand towards him. Your attention on him for a moment, even if you’re getting dicked down by two delicious specimens, Frankie filling you and Will gradually engorging all over again in your mouth until he’s stretching your cheek. And Santi almost turns around and looks behind him when you moan his name because it can’t be him you need, can it? Don’t you have everything you need? “Santi, please,” you beg, and the effects of your wanton plea ripple through each of the men. Frankie fucks you harder, ensuring your eyes meet his again, albeit briefly before they roll back into your head. Will’s face lilts into a crescent smile at how deliciously filthy you are, and Santi…

“My woman needs you, man. Come get involved Santiago,” Will offers with an easy, agenda-free smile. “Sure she can take three. Put it wherever you want. Or, hey. If you’re not gonna get your dick wet just yet, come and torment that little clit of hers and make her clamp down harder on our pal Frankie.”

God - Santi should have gone to Will. He should have gone to Will all those nights he was trying to wank himself off in his army bunk. Should have had the Captain slot in beside him and whisper orders in his ear because it’s the only damn way he can mobilise. Because he needs Will’s cool, calm authority. Always needed it to feel safe.

Needed that but…

…He needs you too. Has needed you. And, Santi tics his gaze over to you, arcing up a thick, suggestive eyebrow - and ever so briefly it’s like you’re sharing a moment just the two of you, even as Frankie’s thrusts shunt you back and forth on the table. Even then, your eyes trail up and down Santi’s body and your tongue darts out along your lips like a silent invitation. And so, Santi comes to stand alongside the table edge, looming over you all splayed out like this. He gets in a position perpendicular to you, where he can just about touch his cock to your lips and reach his hand down towards your mound at the same time too.

Slowly, so slowly and in such juxtaposition to everything that is happening to you, Frankie’s thrusts growing harder and faster and increasingly sloppy, Santi smooths his palm down over your chest, your stomach, and on towards your little hatch of hair, quickly finding that swollen nub and skimming over it with the barest of pressure.

You jolt from it, a shockwave careening through your body and causing your spine to arc away from the table like a bow.

Frankie makes a choked sound then and so do you, but you’re moaning around Will’s engorged dick -your hands on both him and Santi and dipping them alternately into your mouth, sometimes both at once, their cocks frotting up against one another’s - and so that figures. “Holy shit, she likes that, you beautiful motherfucker,” Frankie rasps, voice almost entirely sunken. A delicious bead of sweat shimmying down from his temple which Santi half imagines he’d like to taste. “Just clamped down on me like a fucking vice.”

With a smug smile at making you feel good- making Frankie feel good- Santi builds the pressure. Starts with circles. Then, starts flicking and squeezing and strumming your needy, swollen clit, your moans suffocated around his own dick, but your jerking body and jagged breaths around his shaft a dead giveaway that you like this.

“Give me some more lube down there, Frank,” Santi requests, and his buddy -though increasingly undone- obliges him, puckering his lips and letting a shined glob of spit land on your clit with a soft smack. Well- Frankie always did have good aim.

And then, as Santi works you, you are practically bucking off of the table; however, there are 6 strong hands holding you in position. In position so that you can be filled and pleasured how they like. Your own hands and mouth busy with two dicks and you could stop, if you wanted. Anytime you needed to. You could tap out if you wanted, but you don’t. You like this, and so instead you use your hands to reach for them, to reach for more, to reach for him.

You moan around Will’s cock as he pushes deeper into your throat - deeper and in counter rhythm to Frankie’s thrusts. “So humiliating how much you like being used, Princess,” he coos at you.

Santi is riveted as Will surges out of your mouth, and then your moans are suddenly unfettered; abortive whines and pants and burgeoning waves of sound from deep in your chest. To the other side of him, Frankie’s percussive grunts and groans are the perfect complement to your carnal noises, perfectly in time with the slap of his balls against you, and Will’s still whispering dirty things, dirty words cascading down to you and Santi’s tormenting your clit and all of this- all of this is only taking you higher.

Santi could come again. Could come already, but he’s slipping his fingers further down, further down your lips and folds and he’s hitting the shaft of Frankie’s cock too and it feels warm and ridged and contoured, the feel suggesting veins and weight and he’ll be damned if he comes before he witnesses the two of you reaching your end. And maybe - maybe it’s coincidence but as soon as Santi is touching him too, Frankie seems to be losing it, his rhythm uneven and his grunts increasingly broken and his hands clamping harder on your thighs, leaving indents like claws and half-moon crescents where his short nails dig into your flesh.

Santi is overcome by it. By the need to feel you, to feel you both, so he crooks his forefinger and he reaches down and he finds room against Frankie’s shaft to slip a finger inside you with him, stretching you just a little more, and he finds that you can take it. That you like it. And maybe… maybe it shouldn’t fit- Frankie already an impossible stretch- but everything is drenched. So slippery. Obscene wet noises like ruined fruit. Both of them inside you as he brings his other hand across to massage your clit, his palm pushing down on your lower abdomen, and he can feel it. He can feel it when you clamp down, he can feel when Frankie comes undone and his orgasm zips all the way up from his balls.

Santi’s touching both of you as you are bucking off the table with no chance of going anywhere. As Frankie is spilling his load into you, slamming deeper into you, as deep as he can get, all of his length disappeared inside you all the way down to the groomed tight curls where Frankie’s happy trail meets the base of his dick.

Santi’s not even inside you. Not inside your mouth or pussy but he swears he feels just as good from watching Frankie fill you. By the fact he helped you both come undone.

He and Will both simply watch, both intent on you and Frankie, and a disbelieving, awed sound slips involuntarily past Santi’s lips as Frankie delivers his load, thick and creamy ropes pulsing out of him and filling you. Santi’s fractured moan deepens as he watches Frankie slip out and his cum and your arousal slipping with him, a mess of gleaming, white liquid pulsing from your fucked open hole, and your legs left quivering and jerking as aftershocks tear through you.

It looks fucking delicious.

You look delicious.

Frankie looks delicious, his shaft shined with your juices as he withdraws. He looks delicious as he dips forward, hinging at the hips to shove his tongue hungrily over yours in gratitude, whispering sweet things to you. Shoving over the same tongue that was on Santi’s cock only moments ago - almost as though he’s tasting him.

No, Santi wasn’t prepared for this. For how good it would feel and look.

Santi’s part of this and even then he’s jealous. Doesn’t know who he’d rather be. Him, with the privilege of watching you get fucked and filled up. Frankie, burying his length into your tight hole. Or… you. You, being filled up and used like that and…

…There he is again, untethered from reality like the moments after an explosion, ringing in his ears and blurred sounds and-

“Santiago,” Will says suddenly by his ear, deceptively soft, and Santi turns, grateful for his guiding force. Will slips his hand around the back of Santi’s neck again, gripping him securely. A grounding touch too, and with effort, Santi lifts his dark, lust-blown eyes up to Will’s baby blues, suddenly acutely aware all over again of the aching, straining mass between his legs. Of Will’s size and mass too. His height and muscles and power - not only his strength no, but the quiet, cool authority that has always felt like safety to him. “Santiago,” Will soothes, with the subtle brush of a thumb up and down the column of his neck. “Is there something you need, hmm? Something you… want?”

Santi’s throat bobs around a hard swallow and he averts his gaze from Will, shuffling from foot to foot.

Yes. There is something that he needs. Something, but he can’t…

The words…

He looks to Frankie, brown eyes meeting and Santi’s mouth drops open and closes wordlessly, Frankie’s tongue darting out to whet his pillowy lips and his eyes filled with something Santi can’t name and can’t place.

He looks at you.

He wants so many things but he…

He can’t name them.

So, he looks to Will. He looks to Will because everyone looks to Will when they’re in need, when they’re needy, and Will’s eyes narrow as he contemplates something. A smile twitches at his lips as he lands on a plan of action - always the one with a plan of action.

And so, experimentally, Will smooths his hand over Santi’s hair, making him hum, making him push his curls ever so subtly back into Will’s grip. You do this too - Will knows fine well what it means. “Want me to pull on your hair, Santiago?”

“Uhh. Uh-huh,” Santi admits, voice hollowed-out by need. Heat blooming in his cheeks and flushing his neck and chest. That prickle over his skin again because Will knows. Will knows what he wants. What he needs.

Then, Will obliges. Tugs the ex-soldier’s head back and his chin up and Santi emits a weak, needy sound that could only be described as a whimper.

“Want me to tell you what to do, Santiago?”

Fuck.

Santi’s heart is hammering in his chest and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why but he knows it feels right. He knows he trusts Will. With his life, and with this too.

“Please,” he croaks, and again, Santi immediately worries that he’s said the wrong thing, but only for a moment. Only for a moment because then Will is nodding okay. Will’s nodding okay and then he’s standing up taller, drawing up from Santi. Raising his chin. Asserting his authority. “Always were such a good soldier, Garcia. Should have known you’d like taking orders,” Will drawls, with a satisfied lilt to his deep voice.

“Fucking dickhead,” Santi fires back immediately, and Will tugs harder on his curls.

So help him, he likes that.

“Get on your knees, Santiago, you insubordinate little shit,” Will delivers in a commanding tone, causing a shiver to skitter all along Santi’s spine.

It’s experimental, Santi realises. He doesn’t have to do it, and even now he recognises there is plenty of slack in Will’s tone -in his expression- for challenge. For disobedience. “Get on your knees and lick up Frankie’s cum from the toy.”

Oh yeah. There’s definitely plenty of room for challenge; but Santi doesn’t take an inch of it. Instead, his legs shaking, he positions himself and drops to the floor before you. He settles there like this is second nature. As though he’s ever done this before, naked and hard and kneeling, and his palms settle on his thighs. He settles there, distinctly aware of Frankie and Will stood either side of him. Of you, lying there obediently with Frankie’s cum still pulsing out of you - after he’s used you, made a mess of you.

And Santi looks up - looks to Will, because of course he does. He looks to Will like you do. Waiting for permission. “Taste her then,” Will orders, casually pumping his semi in his hand, quickly swelling again. “Taste Frankie’s load.”

Santi rises up on his knees. He rises up like he’s free. Like everything suddenly makes sense. He cups your ass in his hands and then with a moan and shiver of anticipation from you, suddenly he is sinking his mouth to the mess of you, Santi’s writhing tongue shimmying and thumping and circling against your sensitive clit, sending jerky aftershocks through you.

Next, his tongue is trailing down to your fucked open entrance and he is lapping Frankie’s salt from you. Slurping obscenely and tasting the delicious tang of it flooding over his tongue, his cock so hard it almost hurts; aches. So hard as Will fists his fingers into his crown of curls and drives him more deeply into your heat. As you moan and shiver under his mouth. As Frankie practically gasps at how much Santi is enjoying tasting him.

“Holy shit,” Frankie keens, a cracked-open noise like a revving engine struggling to start - a telltale tremor in it.

“Good, Santiago,” Will praises experimentally, and in response Santi moans into your heat as the words makes his cock throb. “Clean her up. That’s our good boy.”

God, his dick. So hard. So desperate for any friction. Aching.

“Mm-hmm.”

And Santi’s thinking about everything. About what he might do next. About how he could fuck you. About how he could fuck into you and have Frankie’s release coating his dick. Your juices all over him making him slick. About how he could fuck Frankie out of you. How he could claim you for his own. How he could be claimed himself if only-

-His cock aches.

He needs to touch himself -needs some relief- and he reaches down, fingers finding his velvety shaft.

“Fuck,” Frankie revs, voice levelled with need. “You look so pretty on your knees, Santiago,” he praises, and Santi almost spills over his own knuckles right then and there before he’s even really touched himself.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t because he’s waiting for something.

Waiting for…

Will commands him to get up. His legs feel like jelly but he just about manages it. He orders him to fold your legs back towards your chest. Tells him to fill you up like Frankie had. That the toy needs to be all used up.

Santi does as he’s told. He doesn’t need much convincing to slip into your inviting tightness anyway, does he? And, god, he’s only just slipped inside -just the tip- and it already feels so good. So good that he’s breathing in long gusts of exertion, trying to stave off his end and barely able to move because he’d nut before he’s even really fucked you. The way you grip him so tightly and the way it feels when the head of him nudges just right against your walls is something else. The warm grip of you on his shaft and the sight of Frankie’s cum being scooped out of you with every shallow thrust impossibly hot.

Santi’s whole body shudders, and then his eyes are rolling back in his head and suddenly Will’s directing. Will’s directing because it needs to be harder - not these pussy ass thrusts - and he needs to ruin you, and then Frankie is there. Frankie is warm, his chest at Santi’s back and his hands clamping around the man’s hips to fuck him harder into you - to guide the pace and depth.

Then Santi is moving. He’s moving because Frankie is fucking him into you and Will’s egging him on and you’re quaking around him, Frankie’s hardness an increasingly insistent pressure at the small of Santi’s back. Those big hands clamped on his hips and ass, that push and pull controlling his pace and thrusts, making each one longer and deeper than the last, and Santi can sense his balls drawing up, getting so tight, and his whole body getting ready to spill into you. It feels so fucking good.

“Looks like we have two toys, huh?” Will purrs. “You want that, Santiago? Wanna be a good toy for me and Frankie?”

He does. Yes.

Fuck, he wants that.

“Y-Yes. Yes,” and his own voice is barely recognisable, buried under layers of need, his hips stuttering and jerking and his legs nervy and he thinks he could fall over. Thinks he would fall if Frankie wasn’t sturdy at his back and so he leans into him. Leans into him more and all of a sudden Frankie’s gruff noises are fanning over his neck, over the shell of his ear. All of a sudden Santi is turning his head to the side and then he’s merely an inch away from Frankie’s lips, only the ghost of a moment between them.

Fuck.

The ghost of a moment, and with it Frankie loses control of the pace, the interruption to the rhythm and the slightly changed angle and how fucking wet you are causing Santi’s dick to momentarily slip out from you.

For a moment, you and Santi are joined in a crescendo of desperate moans in protest at the sudden lack of sensation - no, no, no- more more more, don’t stop- and Santi thinks about reaching down to guide himself back inside the warm embrace of you but he’s holding your legs, taking the weight of your hips as he suspends your lower half off the table, so instead, before either of them think about it, Frankie’s hand is reaching down.

Fuuuuck.

Frankie’s hand is reaching down and winding around Santi’s sensitive shaft, and he would moan at the feel of his buddy’s girthy fingers on his dick but the sounds are dying in his throat. Dying in his throat and fuck he’s close. He’s close, and as soon as Frankie’s hand is sliding down his lubed shaft and the head of him is engulfed by your plumped lips and wet heat all over again? He’s losing it.

“Come for me,” Will says firmly, and he thinks this time, that he really is talking to him too. Talking to both of you.

This.

This is what Santi has been waiting for. For Will’s permission and Frankie’s touch and you. Always waiting for you and he’s there. Fully present in his body and caught between you and Frankie, his orgasm ripping through him as a single word from Frankie falls over the shell of his ear. A gruff wrecked voice, deceptively soft: “Cariño,” and this time Santi thinks Frankie really could be talking to him too.

With that -with all of this- Santi is spilling himself and you’re clamping down around him too, wringing him dry and convulsing on him, hard, and Will is holding your head and shushing and stroking and praising you.

Santi is emitting ragged sounds from deep in his chest as you drain him dry, Frankie’s hand still squeezing the base of him, and all of a sudden he is releasing everything. His load, this weight from his chest, these sounds - almost like sobs but of pleasure. Sounds muffled only by Frankie’s tongue shoving over his, finally, pushing past the seam of his lips as Santi turns his head once more and the two men lock lips, the kiss hungry and tentative and unexpected and yet somehow entirely inevitable all at once.

The kiss eventually crests and breaks, just like Santi’s orgasm. The come down happens, yours and his, and for a moment the room is held in a cocoon of jagged breaths and breath taken away; pleasant hums and hands smoothing and lips meeting, soft wet sounds and hushed tones, and the soft slip of Santi surging out of you and his come and Frankie’s slipping with him.

Then, there are hands on him too. Careful hands. Reassuring hands. Familiar ones.

Will’s hand winding around the back of his neck again, into his buzzed hair, except this time his other hand is slipped around his waist too, gently pawing there. “You good, Santiago?”

“Yes. Good. Fucking. Soul left dick. Need a minute.” Will nods and slaps his cheek playfully and then they’re all back to you. Back to you and Will is massaging your thighs and you’re giggling disbelievingly and it’s beautiful.

You’re beautiful.

You made him feel so good.

And… Santi is fine.

He is.

He’s fine.

But even so he rasps a hand over his stubble and can’t help but notice there is an elephant in the room.

The elephant in the room is that he can no longer look Frankie in the eye.

He can’t; because then, he might give it away.

Might give away that he’s satisfied. That he couldn’t be more satisfied… yet at the same time?

There’s still something else he wants.

“Let’s take 5, yeah?” Frankie pipes up, sounding shy, sounding distant, and Will agrees, helping you off of the table and rubbing your legs until the blood comes back to them and you’re reaching for him and kissing him and he’s accepting, enjoying the gentle slip of your tongue against his, letting him know you still belong to him.

And, looking for his own embrace, Santi turns. He turns to search for Frankie, but he’s already quietly slipped out.

Already gone.

Gone, and it leaves a longing.

Yes, Santi knows there’s something else he wants, and he doesn’t know if he can find the words.

After all, it’s been this long -has been years- and he has never quite been able to say it.

Timeout / Huddle: amend the play

You all get cleaned up, get some snacks and water, and gather in the master bedroom for a much-needed change of scene.

The air is still heavy and thick with tension, hard swallows down throats and eyes glancing off of bodies and hands skimming skin, leaving searing, liquid trails of heat in their wake.

The pace is slower. More gentle, sensual. A different scene. A different feel.

But still, it’s clear this is not over. That there is more pent-up desire to be fulfilled.

You’re still nude under your silk robe, and shirts and pants have been hastily thrown on by the boys for this conversation, but no-one has made any move to end this.

Everyone still wants. Still needs. That much is apparent. Everyone is satisfied in some kind of way but still needing something more; and the group of you are never ones to leave a mission incomplete. You always get the job done.

Even so, it’s also clear that something has shifted. Maybe for all of you since the scene was planned - sketched out. Something is… different.

You’d talked at length about how the parameters might shift, of course. About what could happen in the moment, theoretically. About different feelings and desires and dynamics that might arise. Complex ones. Unexpected ones. Difficult ones. Pleasurable ones.

But this is far more than theoretical.

You think you all know it. Think you all have a pretty good idea; but it can’t come from you.

It has to come from him, and so this time, all eyes fall on Santi.

“Is there… something else you want to try, Santiago?” you probe, as gently as possible, all too aware -from personal experience- of this guy’s tendency to bolt when things get heavier than expected. More… emotional. More invested.

“Why are you all looking at me?” he asks, sweat gathering at his temples as though he’s literally burning under a spotlight, his heavy brows drawn down over his hooded umber eyes.

“We just want to make you feel good,” you purr. “But you have to tell us what you want first, honey.”

You look at him levelly. Letting him know: It’s okay. You’re safe. I promise.

Santi’s lack of protest is a subtle acquiescence in itself - you know him well enough to know that- but you’re going to need a hell of a lot more to go on than that if a single thing can happen. “So, what do you want?”

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I-“ his eyes glance off of Frankie, and it’s a subtle tic but it’s a glaring admission all at once.

You don’t want to push him - to push this- but it feels so close. So close, and so you think you can give this one more try. You sigh gently and you slip a palm up to Santi’s face, the texture of his stubble rough and warm under you, and his eyes flutter closed as he leans gratefully into your touch, a weight settling on his brow all the same.

He doesn’t give in - he’s stubborn- and so you go with a hunch. “Do you want to be filled up too, Santi? Like I was?”

Santi’s eyes blink open - widening, a flush creeping all the way down his neck, his tan skin flushed with an undertone of crimson.

He looks to Will. Looks to Will like he’s said the wrong thing even though he hasn’t said a thing at all, but Will leaves plenty of room.

Leaves this wide open.

Makes him feel safe.

Still, when Santi remains silent, you look at Will helplessly. Maybe things are done for today. It’s okay if things end here. After all, there can’t be any pressure. “We don’t have to keep going - it might be best if we leave things here and-“

“-No,” Santi protests, his voice weak and yet his assertion forceful. A plea.

You note that Frankie whips his gaze back up from the spot on the duvet he’s been intent on for 10 minutes in that moment, seemingly holding his breath as he waits for Santi to reveal his desires. You swear you can see his heartbeat pulsing -raging- through his corded neck when you look closely enough.

“No?” you prompt, doing your best to stifle a smile. To play this off as casually as possible.

“I. Want That. What you said,” Santi admits, his voice shot through with rare nerves.

You imagine you hear Frankie gulp next to you, but Santi’s looking down at his hands - now clasped firmly in yours. “I. Fuck. I think I want to try that.”

You nod encouragingly. He’s safe with you. You promise. “Okay.”

Will says something next, perhaps going on a hunch too. “Want Frank to fill you up?” It’s experimental. The words slack. Leaving plenty of room. Plenty of room, and Santi doesn’t take an inch of it.

Santi and Frankie’s eyes lock for a moment and you bite your lip, holding your breath as you wait to see how this is going to go down, the air suddenly as close and as suffocating as molasses.

You keep your voice gentle. “That okay with you, Frankie?”

Frankie clears his throat shyly, but the huge tent he’s pitching in his pants right now -as well as the deepened colour of his cheeks- is a dead giveaway. “Yep.”

You could swear Santi releases a held breath when Frankie confirms.

Okay. Good. You’re halfway there. “Santiago?” you probe gently.

“Yeah. Yes. Please.”

You exchange a glance with Will and he gives you a gentle nod. “Do you two want me and Will to stay or-?”

Santi and Frankie both reach for you immediately and in tandem, as though to pin you down before you can disappear, and each of their heavy-lidded, needy expressions sends a thrum of heat and happiness crawling under your skin. Your lips quirk up into a smile, and Santi’s still reaching for you, looking between your eyes and lips and moving close enough that he is almost straddling your lap.

God, he’s pretty when he’s all needy like this.

You read his intentions. “Wanna kiss me, Santiago?”

“Yes please, hermosa.”

Wow. If he’s going to keep asking so nicely you won’t be complaining. You kinda like it, in fact. You’ve never seen him so polite.

“Kiss each other then,” Will suggests to the both of you. “Put on a show for us. Get me and Frankie hard so we can fuck you in your tight little assholes.”

Well…

Now there’s an inspired idea you can all agree on.

Always the man with a plan, your boyfriend.

No wonder he rose through the ranks really, is it?

Quarter Four

Santi surges towards you and you meet him, both of you raised up on your knees on the bed as your lips gravitate towards one another’s. And then, he’s devouring you. Kissing you deeply and hungrily, the movement of his jaw scraping his stubble over your cheek and -no doubt- leaving you raw.

He wants you. He wants you here. He wants you to be part of this. He wants all of this at once. He wants, and it feels like too much but it also feels like everything he ever wanted.

“Can I get you ready for Frankie?” you ask wantonly, your voice husk and syrup, and Santi takes more than a moment to catch your drift.

Oh. Oh.

Well, Frankie’s big. He probably shouldn’t deny a little assistance.

“Yeah,” Will purrs. “Come here, baby. Lick his asshole. Get him ready for Francisco.”

A moan shudders out of Santi even at the thought of you rimming him - of that pretty pink tongue lapping at him, and he could almost come apart if it wasn’t for Will. Will directing him to get on all fours on the bed. To position himself face down ass up. To spread his cheeks open for you.

Fuck.

Is this how you had felt earlier, Santi wonders, your holes all exposed and on display?

It feels… good.

You don’t waste any time in heeding Will’s command, and Santi swears he’s having an out of body experience as he feels the mattress dip to his rear with the weight of you, as he feels your breath against his entrance and your hands gripping the globes of his ass, all three of you making sounds of appreciation at the sight before you.

And then… Jeez.

The feel of your tongue is something else. First, you gently bend his hardened shaft back so that you can lick along the underside of him, your tongue then shivering up to his balls - which you suckle into your mouth for good measure, releasing them with a gentle pop. Then, from his balls your tongue dances over his perineum and finally, you circle around his puckered rim, around the sensitive flesh at his tight ring of muscle, and his moans are muffled right into the bed as he buries his head.

“Fuuuccck,” he praises, and you giggle smugly against him even as you continue your ministrations, your tongue swiping and probing and then gradually pushing inside, dipping into him and making his whole body tremble.

He moans again. Moans as your thumb circles the wetness of him and teases him there until he is eagerly pushing back on you, wanting you to ease in. You do - you push your thumb deeper inside, finding his prostate and pressing down, gently at first and then harder, stroking over it and almost making him shoot his load right then and there. Especially as he hears Frankie moan from somewhere behind him.

“Have you had something inside of you before?” Will asks.

“Yes.”

“You can take him?”

“Nothing as big as Frank. But I think so.”

“We’ll take it slow, cariño,” Frankie reassures, and Santi doesn’t think the man has ever sounded hotter - in control and assured and somehow deeply soft too, a well of caring and emotion brimming under his straightforward tone.

Frankie has got you. Whether you’re bleeding out on a jungle floor or about to be fucked in the ass by the man - he won’t let you down.

And fuck. What you’re doing feels good. Impossibly good, and from behind him Santi hears you mewl, your breath fanning against his ass as though you are being taken care of too. He’s not sure who might be warming you up or how but he can’t say he minds either image.

“I know you can take it, baby. You can take me all day long. That ass is mine, huh?” Will says with a swift smack to your ass, causing you to jerk and your thumb to slip slightly deeper inside Santi.

Oh, fuck.

He has to fight not to nut right now, but he wants to save his load. He wants to save it so he can make Frankie feel good. Judging from the sounds to his rear, Frankie is already enjoying this, and so -of course he does- Santi plays it up a little, feeling slightly smug, enjoying the attention, writhing his ass and increasing the volume of his wracked moans.

Santi is so very conscious he’s being watched. The two men behind him watching you open him up, Frankie emitting a beautiful groan as you replace your thumb with two fingers and Santi accommodates you with ease, and then he doesn’t even need to play it up. In fact, he’s having to reign it back in and he’s squirming and backing-up so you fill him deeper and swallowing down his moans and-

“There you go. There you go, Santiago,” Will praises, and Santi doesn’t think he’s ever felt such a sense of pride in his life as when Will praises him. “Francisco, have him suck on you and get you all wet.”

Frankie does just that, needing little to no encouragement to shift to the head of the bed and kneel before the other man, bringing his dick to Santi’s lips as you continue to deliciously pulse your fingers in and out of his tightness. “You want to? Want to open up for me?”

Santi responds by sinking his mouth eagerly on to Frankie’s length. It’s a new sensation- he hasn’t sucked a dick before- but he immediately loves how full he feels. Loves the weight of Frankie over his tongue and the taste of skin and salt. Loves the textures of him.

Pretty Francisco.

Pretty Francisco and his big pretty delicious cock.

Frankie seems to enjoy it too -Santi’s mouth on him- as before long he’s pulling out, insisting he’ll bust a nut if he stays in there too long, shuddering with need.

Will talks over at him. “I get a feeling our sweet Santiago likes to be told he’s a good boy. Think you can you be nice to him, Francisco?”

“Yeah. I can be nice to him,” Frankie chuckles. “That okay with you, pendejo?”

“Yeah, starting when, asshole?” Santi jokes, even as his voice tremors with need, and then he is being moved by strong pairs of hands - moved into position on his back as Frankie scolds him - “careful, or I might stop being so nice,” - and then all of a sudden, both unexpected and inevitable, it is happening.

Frankie’s hard shaft is inching inside of his eased open hole, stretching him out and filling him up until somehow, the dull burn is giving way to searing pleasure, and Frankie is buried all the way.

Next to Santi, Will has you on all fours as he fucks into your ass, slamming you hard and fast and burying that perfect dick in you just like you need him to, your hand winding in between your thighs and punishing your clit in time with his thrusts.

Will goes to town on you, because he knows you can take it, knows what you like, what you need, and meanwhile, Frankie - his sweet Frankie- is far more gentle. More gentle until Santi adjusts to his girth. Allowing him to set the pace and dictate the angle, his knees held up towards his chest as he holds himself open.

“Feel good?” Frankie enquires, a subtle concern etched into his handsome features, even as he hums with the feeling of Santi gripping his dick so tightly in his ass, his pink tongue darting out to skim over his lips.

Feel good? Good? That’s a fucking understatement, even before Frankie is really even moving. And, in response to what seems like an absurd question in the moment, it is all Santi can do to let out a choked, disbelieving laugh.

“Use your words,” Frankie scolds, his voice deep and delicious, and that command causes Santi to raise his arms and grab the pillows above his head for dear life, as though they might give him any purchase against the man’s deepening thrusts.

“Yeah. Feels good, Frank. Feels amazing.”

“Yeah?” Frankie says, the pace and force of his thrusts increasing as soon as he’s sure Santi’s enjoying this. The concern dropping from his features. His palms pressing down on the man’s thighs to keep them crushed up towards his chest, and Frankie sinking a little weight into his arms so he can deepen the angle of penetration too.

It’s good. It’s more than good; it’s divine.

And yet, Santi has seen Frankie fuck. With his own two eyes. Has seen Frankie fuck you. Hard. And he knows he’s still holding back.

Santi nods towards you, where you are getting railed into oblivion, tits bouncing and being gradually shunted up the bed by the sheer force of it, Will continually having to drag you back down on to his cock. “Francisco,” Santi pleads, almost bashfully. “I… I… want it like that. Please.”

“Like that how? All fours?”

“No. Just… harder. Fuck me harder, Frank.”

Frankie picks up the pace a little, testing the waters, sending a white hot, blooming pleasure shooting through Santi’s core. Still, he’s the one in charge here and he’s not about to let Santi forget it that easily. “You’re actually telling me how to fuck you? Curses under his breath. “I know you didn’t just try to top from the bottom, you little brat.” There is a warning in Frankie’s voice, but there is that undercurrent of humour too - an ease developed through years of back and forth between the two men - his endlessly familiar tone cut with a harsh, playful edge that Santi enjoys.

“Sounds like a fucking challenge,” Santi sasses back, and that was both his biggest mistake and his greatest idea, because with that, Frankie slams into him with far greater force, fucking him until he’s almost seeing stars.

“Uh- uh - fuuuucckkk.”

“You’re lucky you look pretty getting fucked by me, Santiago,” Frankie chides, but there’s so much warmth there too.

So much warmth and Frankie’s hard and soft and oh so familiar and entirely new and despite himself, even as he’s being drilled Santi can’t help but laugh. Can’t help but laugh because it’s unexpected, because it’s wonderful; but then Frankie is fucking him harder, and Santi’s laugh digresses to a moan and he’s keening for him, his hands raised above and behind him, searching for something to hold on to, and he figures he must look some kind of way getting fucked like this - being opened up so deliciously by Frankie - because you’re looking at him. Looking at him like you are rapt, captivated, even though Will -big strong Will- is buried deep in your ass. You’re looking at him, your eyes trailing from his flexed arms down his chest and flared ribs and soft stomach where his gleaming cock rests, nestled like a treasure between his thighs, knees curled back almost to his chest and Frankie’s soft stomach slapping up against his balls and sending jolts of pleasure slamming through him as he drives harder, faster, deeper.

Santi feels… boneless. He feels… liquid.

He feels something wet and liquid on his stomach and he realises his cock is weeping creamy fluid, Frankie fucking milking him, making him slick and God. God it feels good and it’s too much and it’s everything, but then Santi is reaching out for something -something else- and it’s you. Your hands clasping together in the space between you and holding on for dear life as you each get filled all the way up.

You lock eyes with Santi and hum approvingly at the sight of him, until Will is scolding you -I know he’s pretty baby but you focus on me when I’m fucking you, understand?. Scolding you but there’s no menace in it - you’re both smiling, that is, until Will is baring his teeth in a snarl at how good you’re making him feel.

And then, Will succeeds in reclaiming your attention by ramming you harder, and your eyes are rolling back in your head and Will is thumbing your clit and now you look like you’re almost seeing stars too.

All over again, everywhere Santi looks there is something beautiful; someone beautiful, all of them creating something beautiful, together, and Santi is smiling and he never knew that sex could feel like this. Never knew it could feel so fucking hot -hot like fire- and yet so joyful too.

So joyful and Frankie is fucking gorgeous like this, his hawkish face intense and handsome as he bears down on Santi, concentrating on not coming undone, breaths gusting from the circle of his plush lips and his thick length hitting Santi just right, and Santi idly thinks it’s apt that the pilot should have an aerial view.

Then, Santi vaguely hears Will ask you a question to the side of him. Something about whose dick you want to come on, but then he’s growling and gathering you up in his arms and raising your torso off the bed, his chest at your back as he snaps his hips forward and up as he buries his seed deep in your ass, and it gives Santi ideas.

“Harder,” he pleads at Frank with a flutter of his pretty eyelashes, and this time, oh thank God, this time, Frankie gets the memo.

This time, Santi’s got his knees up to his chest and Frankie’s hands are gripping his ample hips and Santi looks down. Looks down at Frankie disappeared into him. Looks up at the man’s smooth chest and broad shoulders. Looks down at himself, and he doesn’t usually like his stomach since he retired from the service but it looks good like this; good for Frankie, soft for Frankie, and he’s being railed and shunted further up and up the bed and he feels good. He feels so good with this white hot pleasure sparking in his core with every thrust, with the slight friction of his own length against his stomach as he’s filled. He feels so good that he is the one making Frankie emit such pretty, sexy as hell noises; making him feel good too.

Frankie’s filling him and it’s everything, and it’s enough, and it’s more, but suddenly Santi understands how you had felt earlier when you had called out for him, even as you had everything you needed.

He understands and he calls out for you now too. Calls out for you as Frankie fills him and he climbs ever closer to his peak. Closer and he’s filling him up and you’re watching him and Santi reaches out and it’s as though you know exactly what he needs. As if you know what he needs and you smooth your hand over his curls, over the stubble at his cheek. “Okay, baby boy. Okay. You’re okay,” you soothe, and his eyes roll back in his head with this divine contrast of soft and hard, being pounded and soothed, praised and used, and then he’s looking at Will all over again. Looking at Will because of course he is. Looking at Will because he wants permission. “One more orgasm. Give us one more baby boy.”

And then, just like that, everything is shifting. Suddenly you’re all talking and agreeing and moving and he is agreeing and pleading. Pleading that you straddle him and put his dick inside you. That you ride him while Frankie fucks his ass, and then, all of a sudden it’s happening.

It’s happening, and Santi’s being rocked between the motion of the two of you, both filled and filling, and it’s like the tide, one pleasure reversing and replaced immediately by the other, in and out, and it’s so good that he can’t take it. So good that the pleasure feels like it’s about to burst out of him everywhere.

So good he’s shaking, tipping his head back and moaning more deeply than he’s ever heard himself moan, and he sounds pathetic, desperate, wonderful, and then Will’s drawing Santi’s head into his lap and stroking his hair - telling him how well he’s doing. How well he’s doing letting you ride his dick, your hips undulating skilfully on him and your walls dragging over his contours. For having Frankie moving inside of him, so thick and stretching him open and him taking it so well, so deep.

“Feel good, baby boy?” you ask him, fully prepared to stop if he can’t handle the stimulation, if it’s overwhelming, and Santi could swear it is too much. That it is too good, and yet his hands somehow clamp down on your hips to keep him buried inside you and he’s begging. Begging all three of you, don’t stop. Don’t stop. Please.

Santi’s here, caught in a web of pleasure, and his enjoyment seems to build you all up too. Seems to drive you all further toward that peak together, and for a minute, with you all around him and inside him and above him he feels like he’s at the centre of the goddamn universe.

He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this. Any of this. To deserve the sight of you as you surge up, arms reaching behind you and head twisting so Frankie can kiss you, full and deep. What he’s done to deserve your lips on his next as you fold forwards, hinging at the hips and shoving your tongue over his. What he’s done to deserve Will’s praises and the dirty affirmations which cascade over the both of you.

“Yeah - you belong to me, don’t you, even with this other dick in you?” Will rumbles in his deepest, darkest voice - and Santi screws his eyes shut and imagines for a moment he’s talking to him. Imagines he’s talking to him, and then, quite plainly, he is. He really is. “You too, little one. I’m letting them fuck you. You’re mine too. You belong to me, you got that, Santiago? Mine to take care of.”

Santi can’t describe it. Can’t describe the elation he feels with Will’s words in his ear, and his fingers raking in his curls. Your tongue in his mouth and your pussy wrapped around his length. Frankie’s dick buried in him and his hands clamping down around his hips. All of you taking care of him.

He feels like he belongs.

He belongs to Will. He belongs to you. He belongs to Frankie. And he feels - he wishes, he hopes- that you’re each saying it to him now, in your own ways. Saying everything that he’s ever wanted.

He belongs. He belongs. He belongs.

To you, and you, and you.

“You okay, baby boy?” You purr right next to his ear.

Then, Frankie’s voice sounds from above him too. “We’ve got you. Come for us. That’s it. Come on. That’s it, baby.”

Santi screws his eyes shut again and focusses fully on the feelings and sensations. The sounds. The sights are almost too much.

He feels your laboured, quickened breaths fanning over him as your bury your head in the crook of his neck. “Fuck, I’m gonna… Frankie, you close too?” Frankie grunts yes, he is. “Come with Frankie, Santiago,” you plead, directly into the shell of his ear. “Come with me.”

Fuck. He’d go anywhere with you.

“Come on,” Frankie encourages, fucking him more roughly as his seed pulses deep into his ass.

And, between you all, you are hard and soft and Santi’s spilling and Frankie is too, all warm and thick deep inside him, and Will is awed, watching like he is witnessing some divine confluence. Santi feels it too. Feels the divine here. He feels the God that he always missed whenever he was dragged to Sunday service. He feels like this is something so perfect it shouldn’t be possible.

It’s like belonging.

It’s like being loved. If that’s not sacred, what in the hell is?

“Holy fucking shit,” Frankie growls as he comes, and his noises merge with your more incoherent, throaty moans -louder than he’s ever heard you come- and yet Santi is silent. Silent as though in prayer -at least, the way the Catholics do it- head thrown back in a noiseless cry, little cracked sounds and fissures all that escapes his throat as a full body orgasm tears through him.

He clamps down and squeezes Frankie dry. He almost bucks you off of him, throwing you forward until your arms have to steady yourself with your arms at either side of his head as pleasure blows through him like an explosion. Like a Big Bang.

Then after, it is calm.

Santi is levelled.

Santi has this ringing in his ears and this blurred vision and everything seems unreal. Seems unreal until touches and voices start to ground him again. Until the weight of bodies and palms settles him back down to Earth.

There is softness and shushing and stroking and he’s lying on the bed and he’s being taken care of. Being taken care of by his squad who have his six, whether he’s bleeding out on the jungle floor or coming down from the best orgasm of his life. Soft touches and soft words abound, and only now, in this moment, does Santi realise his cheeks are wet with tears - getting wetter- and even so, despite this emotion, despite how much he hates feeling vulnerable, you’re collapsed on top of him, boxing him in with your arms and legs, and he’s never felt more safe in his goddamn life.

You come down to Earth first. You always were the anchor or the group. Holding everything in place. You kiss him, and his lips are trembling as they meet yours and he can taste the salt of his own tears on your tongue.

Then, there’s Will. The leader. The Captain. The one who always knows what to do. Who knows right now. “Taking my girl for a second, Frank, will you look after this one?”

Then, that just leaves Frankie. His Frankie. The heart of the group. His joy. “You okay, Santiago, you kinky mother fucker?” And Santi can’t help but laugh. Can’t help but laugh that yes. Yes he is okay -more than okay- even as he has tears streaming helplessly down his cheeks.

“Kiss him better, Princess,” Will says softly, and Santi finally opens his eyes, seeing Will carrying you, your legs wrapped around his waist, arms slung around his neck, and he dips you down so that you can reach Santi, swiping your tongue tenderly along his lips until he grants you access.

“You too, Frank,” Will commands, and then Frankie obliges, lying -half-collapsing, in all honesty- on his side on the bed. Then, he is bringing Santi’s face towards his with a tender palm on his cheek, and slanting his mouth ever so softly against his, his moustache tickling against Santi’s upper lip.

And, finally, when you and Will leave the pair of them, momentarily, to get cleaned up, Frankie becomes big spoon, curling around Santi’s form and whispering something into the man’s ear. Whispering something that makes Santi look entirely blissed out.

“I’ll take care of you, pendejo.”

Overtime

“There’s gotta be a joke somewhere here?” Frankie insists. “What do you call you two subs sitting in a bathtub?”

“Oh, ha ha,” Santi says, tone thick with sarcasm, merely causing the other man’s eyes to crinkle in amusement.

“I’ve got it,” he comes back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What’s the difference between you two and the USS Seawolf?” Santi emphatically rolls his eyes, and Frankie takes that as a clear invitation to deliver his punchline. “Nothing. You’re both subs and filled with semen.”

Okay, it wasn’t that funny, but it has tickled Frankie, and neither of you can resist that man’s infectious, throaty chuckle - despite best efforts, in Santi’s case.

Well, Frankie isn’t entirely wrong, is he? You had certainly been more than filled up. Your core hums pleasantly with the memory of it.

Then, after the fact, Will had lifted you away. Had stolen a moment alone with his love, to properly check in with you. To kiss you slow and deep and hold you close. To praise and fuss over you.

He’d also figured that Santi might do well if he wasn’t being crowded - that leaving Frankie to take care of him would be the best call. That Frankie would want that too; he went on a hunch. And, since then, everyone had been cleaned up and checked-in with and -to Will’s insistence- had rehydrated. Any immediate physical needs had been addressed, and emotional ones too, as far as possible.

There were soft kisses and hugs and caresses, sweet words of praise, and some good-natured words of teasing too, the moment Santi was ready to assert himself again.

Then, all that was left to do was to bask in the afterglow. That, and Will had run the two of you a bubble bath while he and Frankie had disappeared to shower in the en suite.

Now, you and Santi are sat at either end of the claw-foot tub luxuriating, legs overlapping and folding around one another.

Frankie is seemingly sticking with the two of you for just a little bit longer as well, his forearms resting on the bath edge and his chin on top of that, his eyes closing and a satisfied hum escaping him as you fondly card you fingers through his messed-up mop of hair, putting his ‘do back into place even as you know it will look tidy for all of 5 minutes.

Feeling a rush of affection for the man, you dip forward to kiss him on the cheek, and then you run your index finger down from his brow, tracing the profile of his hawkish nose, the line of his moustache, over his lips and shapely chin, and you can’t help the smile that curls your lips as you appreciate him.

“He’s kinda pretty, right?” Santi says, tone imbued with fondness too, and just a gentle teasing edge.

Frankie hums again, and then his eyes slowly peel open, creasing at the corners as he looks at Santi. “And you get uglier everyday.”

The challenge in Santi’s eyes is kind of delicious, and if you weren’t so spent it might even get you horny again. Still, you have other things on your mind for right now. “Why don’t you go nap, Cat’?” the man is obviously tired, stifling yawn after yawn - and yet, refusing to relinquish his post. “Sure Will’ll tuck you in, sweetie.”

Frankie looks apprehensively between the two of you.

“We’ve got everything we need. Really.” You pump your eyebrows, hoping that somehow you convey: I’ll take care of Santiago.

And so, confirming that you’re sure one more time, Frankie finally concedes, leaving you and Santi alone in the bath.

Santi looks at you, coming back to his cheeky old self -clearly, as his eyebrow ticks up suggestively- but there’s no real intention behind it. You can tell he’s wiped-out too.

“Sometimes I think this is actually the best bit,” you share, as though this is some insider bit of intelligence Santi might covet. “You can drag the aftercare out for days with Will, he’s a soft touch.” You toss the man a wink.

Despite your light-hearted tone, Santi’s eyes mist over then. You’re not a mind reader, so you can’t quite place it, but if you had to guess you’d say there was a look of regret there. Santi gets that look in his eyes on occasion, when you talk about Will -when you’re happy about Will- and so you’re not overly concerned. It registers like an old ghost, and, as usual, it is covered over in a matter of moments. Buried all over again.

“Did you have fun?” Santi asks you instead.

Wow. Did you have fun? Well, you can’t help the grin which splits your face then. “Couldn’t you tell I was having a good time? I thought you were intelligence.”

“I had some clue,” Santi grins, a lazy, charming smile which disarms you a little, in spite of yourself. He’s good at those. Good at making you feel beautiful, his dark eyes glinting at you.

“What about you?”

Something indiscernible passes over his eyes again. “Yeah. Yeah I did,” and he rasps his hand over his stubble, leaving a trail of bath bubbles in the wake of his hand which fizzle on his skin. There’s something more there too, though. You can feel him wrestle with it. That’s usual. Standard Garcia, but you’re surprised that this time, some words actually find their way out. “You know,” Santi says, a sudden seriousness burdening his brow, and you can’t help but tense up a little. “I always regretted fucking up with you.”

You draw your knees up to your chest, hugging them close, feeling like you’re wandering into dangerous territory; quickly erecting a perimeter around your heart. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Santi breathes out. Seems to release something on the exhale. “But now… I’m glad I fucked up. Because what you and Will have… You’re incredible. I see how happy he makes you, and… you deserve that. I… I never could’ve…”

Your eyes mist up, mirroring his, and you have to bite back a swell of emotion which surges in your chest. For a moment you can’t speak. You can only reach for one of his wet hands and clasp it in yours, interrupting the flow of his words and dragging his deep brown eyes up to yours. “Santi. You could have. For whatever it’s worth now? You could have.”

Santi smiles thinly. Nods. And you’re not sure whether your revelation is a sad one or a happy one, but regardless, he draws you to him with a hand around the back of your neck, dipping to plant a chaste, fond kiss on your lips, your foreheads resting together, just for a moment. It’s not an apology exactly, but somehow it feels like one. It doesn’t even matter - you forgave him long ago anyway.

You smile back at him - a thin, watery thing which you quickly gloss over; and then you each release a breath. You each let it feel lighter. It is only then that you realise how much it had been weighing on you all this time.

Then, your eyes gradually sparking with gentle humour, you distract from this thing between you. You arrange a bubble beard along his jaw, your bright laughter and his resonant chuckle eventually echoing around the tiled room.

He looks at you then like you’re beautiful, his head tilted to one side and you reel a little, his natural charm entirely disarming. Always was that way. “God you can take a dick,” he grins. “And you look good doing it too.”

Despite yourself, you laugh - a dirty, smug sound. “Look who’s talking, Pope.”

And, okay, it’s not the smoothest segue, but you’ll take it. “So… you and Frankie… that was…” you tick up an eyebrow. “…unexpected? Right?”

Santi pouts his full lips, nodding slowly. Expression impassive. “Yeah.” He doesn’t say anymore, even though you feel like he wants to; still, you don’t push him. He’s bound to be emotional right now, and tired, and vulnerable. Santi has bolted for fewer reasons than that before and the last thing you want to do is push him away. Maybe it sounds silly, but you only want to protect him - which has always proven tricky when Santi’s biggest enemy is himself.

So, instead, you chew over a different question, as though you’re about to ask him for the Earth. “Will you come lie up against me, Santi?”

Santi hesitates for a moment. Doesn’t make a move to come closer.

In the space he leaves you almost want to beg him. Don’t run. Don’t run from this. Not me. Not Frankie. Not Will. Not this time.

To your surprise though, he shifts in the water, and he slots his back against your chest, allowing himself to be nestled safely in the loop of your arms. Allowing you to take care of him, for once.

You hold him close to you, and with the weight of him against your chest, somehow, it releases a different weight you’d never even known you were carrying. Not since Will. Not since you were happy.

By the time Will comes into the bathroom to check on you, Santi is dozing against your chest.

You wonder if Will is going to be pissed, somehow, but instead, his eyes glow with admiration as he watches you -the two of you-Santi nestled against your chest, and a smile claims his face at the sweet sight.

He gives you a wink, no agendas behind it, and you love him for it. “You okay, angel?” he whispers with a staggeringly beautiful smile. “Need me to relieve you of brat duty?” He dips a hand in the water. “Water’s almost cold.”

Your eyes crinkle and you swallow a laugh. “He asleep?” you mouth.

“Looks like. Frankie’s zonked out too. Shall we put this one to bed as well?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “You sleepy?

“Not really. Hungry though. Guess fucking your ass really worked up an appetite.” He grins. God. How does he do that? Make you feel so safe and so ignited all at once?

Your eyes light up and you bat your eyelashes at your love in hope. “Snuggles and pizza with my Captain?”

Will’s lips twitch with amusement and adoration in equal measure.

“If it helps you decide, I took three dicks today. Think I deserve it,” you purr.

“Ok, Angel,” Will laughs robustly. “Can do.”

Post-game analysis

After a decent nap, Santi and Frankie join the two of you in the lounge.

Everybody is feeling more rested, eating the leftover pizza, and idly watching some shit 80s action flick that Frankie knows every single line to. There is intermittent chatter too, as everyone reclines on some couch cushion or other.

You and Santi are bunched up in the middle, your head reclined in Will’s lap and his in Frankie’s, the two seated men at opposite ends of the couch. Banter is flying around, and you and Santi are quickly being dubbed the mischief makers and more than playing up to it too, perhaps unconsciously trying to tempt some fun consequences.

“Look. Can we address the true elephant in the room, Pope?” Will sniggers, mid-way through one of the random digressions from the movie. “I thought you were a dom, man.”

“Yeah,” Frankie titters gleefully. “Santi’s a dom until Will’s in the room.” His comment earns him a hearty laugh from you and Will, and pure daggers from the man in question.

“Shit. You wanna watch out or, next time, I’ll prove to you just how well I can dom,” Santi says indignantly. And then, all over again, he tenses up. Feels instantly as though he’s said the wrong thing. That he’s been far too presumptuous. That he’s given far too much away about his wants. Why? Because a repeat performance was never agreed upon. Was never supposed to be on the cards. Still, with effort, his voice comes back, even if this time it is far smaller. “I mean… if there…” he gulps, his mouth suddenly as dry as cotton. “If there’s gonna be a next time.”

A tense silence falls over the room - an awkwardness for the first time today. And for one last time, all eyes converge on Will.

“Why are you all looking at me?” he wonders casually, chowing down on a slice of ham and pineapple without a care in the world.

“Because you’re in charge, Captain,” Frankie says without missing a beat - in all seriousness.

“Well - that’s not quite true,” Will chuckles.

“No?”

“No!” he replies, and his voice becomes suddenly wistful. “No, dumbass. We’re a team.”

Santi feels it.

Feels choked up.

Feels that expansive happiness swell in his chest again. That limitless relief.

He belongs. He belongs. He belongs.

And he feels his heart thudding in his chest.

“Sure, but baby - every team needs a Captain,” you say to his right, in a tone sure to massage whatever shred of ego Will has left.

Will huffs out air disbelievingly -increasingly amused as everyone continues to look towards him, as if to ask, “Well?”

And so, Will can seemingly no longer stifle the smile that crosses his features. “Okay. Well. We clocked… 11 orgasms this time.” That’s Will - Will counts everything. “Next time, squad?” Everyone’s breath is bated, hanging off his every word. “I think we can do a little better.”

At that, Santi lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and Frankie’s arm settles over him, perhaps with relief too, giving him a gentle squeeze. In turn, Santi reaches out and wraps his arms around your leg, and with all of you around him like this, Santi finally feels like he belongs.

He only hopes this feeling can last.

THE END.

If you liked this, please consider swinging by my pinned post 🙏You can find my masterlists there. I have a ton of Triple Frontier, Oscar character, and Pedro character content, so please do have a browse if you’re interested! 😀

Most importantly, thanks so much for reading! I’d love to know what you thought so any comments, ask or reblogs will always be received with endless gratitude! 🧡🙏

#frankie morales x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #will miller x reader #triple frontier #Pedro pascal #Oscar Isaac #charlie hunman

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wakanda-nonsense-is-this · 2 years

Text

Ghost of Us — Chapter 1

Masterpage <last next>

This is the sequel to my book Ghost of You. Go check it out before reading this one.

Pietro Maximoff x fem!Mutant!reader

Warnings: PTSD, vague mention of torture, blood, little violence, alcohol, alcohol as a coping mechanism, liquor store, alcoholism, suicide talk, angst, trauma, grief

Word Count: 3284

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know :)

Dying is easy.

Coming back it's the tricky part.

But what's even worse is the situation I found myself in at the moment.

I released a yelp as Strange's eldritch whip came in my direction and I quickly dodged behind a table which seconds later exploded into million pieces leaving me defenseless in front of a frustrated wizard. I slowly crawled backward until my back hit the wall and winced at the intensity of his gaze.

"Get up."

"I'm fine here, thank you very much."

"Now." He demanded, magic illuminating his hands orange. Reluctantly I stood up and faced him before I sprinted away from him racing towards the door. As expected, it did nothing since seconds later I was face down spitting dust a whip wrapped around my leg pulling me towards Strange.

"Fight back." I moved my head out of the way as a magic disc crashed beside me hitting the side of my face and causing blood to pour out of my cheek. The surprise of actual blood was overtaken by anger, as ghosts made their apparition around us. I felt my powers in the tips of my fingers, in the deep of my stomach, they wanted to crawl out and unleash death. The temperature rose and the light faded away.

"That's enough for today Strange," Wong stated as he appeared behind us. His voice snapped me out of my trance and the spirits disappeared. I blinked once, twice. Since coming back from the land of the dead this type of thing has started to happen more frequently and I was afraid to repeat a scene worse than the one back on my last day on the compound after seeing...

"I leave you two for three hours and you somehow always find a way to destroy everything." He snapped as Strange finally released me. I quietly stood up and tried to clean the dirt out of my clothes.

"He started it," I mumbled.

"It's her fault."

"How's that my fault? You attacked me," I snapped, gritting my teeth as I crossed my arms defiantly.

"If you would simply do what I've taught you and fought back then we wouldn't be having this conversation," Strange grunted, narrowing his eyes.

"Well if you got it into your thick skull that I'm not a freaking wizard then we wouldn't be having this conversation either."

"You're insufferable, anyone ever told you that?" He hissed, his jaw clenching.

"Only every day of my entire life," I commented, raising my chin, a smug smile forming on my face.

"Oh now we're playing the victim card, aren't we?" He grumbled, rolling his eyes. "How creative, now I can't say anything without sounding like an asshole."

"Whoops."

"I hate you." He fumed, swearing under his breath.

"Why? I'm lovely." I grinned cheekily as Strange made to reach me. With a yelp, I hid behind Wong, who looked anything but amused. His brows furrowed together in annoyance and I could see a sneer starting to form on his face.

"Okay, that's it. Get out, both of you. I don't wanna see any of you." He snapped and forcefully shoved us out of the room and finally slammed the door on our faces with a loud thud. We stood still for a moment.

"So, you want something to eat?" I grinned

"Don't talk to me." His nostril flared as he turned around and walked away.

"Idiot."

"I heard that!"

"I wasn’t whispering," I announced smirking.

***

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror as I splashed water on my face, erasing any trace of blood that could remind me of my past. But I wasn't fast enough as the sight of bloody water running down the drain brought me back to the days at the asylum. I tried to shake the images out of my head as I forcefully shut my eyes. My breath quickened as memories of being tied down to a table as they sliced me open invaded my brain. I could still remember the feeling of the blade against my skin as if it was yesterday. The pressure on my wrists as they were being tied down. The chill on my exposed bloody back as air met it. How my screams left my throat feeling raw. Their faces as they stood above me...

But a knock on the door stopped my brain from finishing that memory. With shaky hands, I opened the door only to be met with two green eyes. A grimace appeared on my face as I took in his unwanted presence. His eyes however focused solely on my bloody cheek and then on my probably crazed eyes after my little episode, but he knew me enough not to mention it. We faced each other for some awkward seconds until he spoke.

"Need a hand with that?" He nagged.

"Do I look like I need your help?" I barked back and regretted it immediately as I felt blood dripping down my chin.

"Was that a rhetorical question or do you really want me to answer that?" Strange debated, amusement evident in the way his eyes lit up.

"Whatever" I sighed and rolled my eyes as I opened the door completely to let him in and sat on the toilet.

He stepped inside the little room and searched for the first aid kit inside the drawers. When he found it he kneeled in front of me and took the alcohol out. Gently he wiped the blood off my cheek and then rubbed alcohol on it. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my reaction, and was surprised when he found none.

"It doesn't hurt," I explained. And it didn't, not really. Not even when alcohol came in contact with the open wound.

"You have a high pain tolerance I see." He noted warily.

"I do." And I did, ever since I knew what real pain was, little things like this felt like a joke. For some minutes nothing could be heard as he cleaned my wound and surprisingly gave me two stitches until a loud sigh could be heard from him.

"What?" I snapped annoyed as he sighed for the fifth time.

"I didn't say anything."

"Then stop breathing so loudly," I grunted as I stood off the toilet and made my way to the mirror to gaze at the repaired damage on my face.

"I just don't understand why you're holding back." The sorcerer pondered crossing his arms above his chest.

"I'm not."

"I don't believe that and neither do you."

"Honestly? I don't care what you think." I snapped glaring at him. Restrained anger danced in my eyes as we stared at each other. Suddenly recognition dawned on his eyes.

"Ohh, so he's why." Strange acknowledged. I tensed and froze at his mere mention.

"It's been 8 months Y/n." When I said nothing he continued.

"I think," he began hesitantly, "it's time to get over him."

"I am over him." I denied

"I'm not blind nor deaf, I can see you crumbling before my eyes. Do you think I can't hear you screaming every night in your sleep? Do you think I don't notice the alcohol stench in your room? The bottles? Well, I can. Why do you think I'm trying to teach you control?"

I didn't answer, I was speechless as shame burned through my veins as I recalled all the sleepless nights filled with Pietro's memories and the bottles I drank to erase any trace of him and the last 12 years of my life.

"Because every night you lose it." He softly answered himself.

"Leave me alone."

"Not until you realize how stupid all of this is!" He exclaimed, his hands raised in exasperation as if begging God for patience. "You're wasting your potential grieving over someone who doesn't know who you are."

"I'm warning you Strange. Stop talking." Warning seeping through my teeth.

"I'm sorry to break it to you but that stupid little dead boy doesn't deserve the power he still holds over you." He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You don't understand." I looked away, shame filling my veins. I hate it, the power Pietro still had over me.

"Explain it to me then, why put yourself through all of this?"

"Because I loved him and he's gone and it hurts" I roared as the lights flicked and the mirror tremble. The air filled with static.

The silence was so loud. I could feel his eyes burning on the back of my head. My hands twitched at my sides, unrestrained power tingling at my fingertips. I tried not to show it, but I know he saw straight through it. He always did. His features softened at the shaking of my hands.

"That day, you told me to make it stop. You told me you would come if I made the pain stop. But if you keep holding back there's nothing I can do to help you."

I knew he was right, of course, he was right. I was holding back. I was hiding. But what was I supposed to do? For twelve years that's what I was thought to do. If I didn't, I was punished. My whole life has revolved around me having to hold back, for my and everyone's sake. Back then I didn't know what I was capable of, and I still am not, but if I have the power to bring someone back, who says I can't do the opposite. The thing is, maybe I don't want to find out.

What's the point of using these abilities, if all they do is bring me pain. I want, no, I need to forget him. And if alcohol is the way, I'll gladly take it, even if it'll just work for a few hours.

"I don't need your help Doctor." I exited the room and smashed the door behind me as I made my way to the nearest liquor store.

The walk was painfully long. Even after 8 months, everywhere I looked I could see his face, literally. There were dozens of posters with his face adorning the street. People were bedazzled when they learned the Pietro Maximoff was, somehow, alive, after 7 years of being considered dead. I walked faster as I always did every time I got too close and before I knew it I was entering the store, the bell ringing as I opened the door.

By then I knew all aisles by memory so I rapidly searched for the tequila and made my way to the front, where the same man was always working. He acknowledge me with a nod and I did the same as I took money out of my pocket and gave it to him. Without a word I took the bag with my newly bought alcohol and left the store.

Outside I entertained my options and decide going back to the sanctum was not a good idea so I settled by walking directionless until I found someplace to sit. Minutes felt like hours as the sun set down on the horizon, obscuring my surroundings.

Some time passed and I found myself alone in the dark, my only company being the ghost of us. And those horrible posters that made no justice to the color of his eyes.

As the first tear made its way through my face I opened the bottle and took a sip that burned my throat and for just a second made me forget that once again I was alone in a world where no one would ever miss me. It wasn't funny, but I couldn't help the laugh that left my mouth.

"You were right dad," I began speaking to no one in particular as I felt my hands start to shake as the reality of my situation sank in. "I am a monster, unlovable." I croaked, my hand finding the almost full bottle and taking a longer sip.

"I think I get it now, why you abandon me." I kept going, way sober to have this realization, so I took another sip. "I wouldn't want to have me as my daughter either."

"I wonder if they miss me" Another sip. "I bet they don't." I chuckled as I lazily took one more.

"Maybe" I whispered to myself as if I was telling a secret. "Maybe everything would be easier if I just" I took a deep shuddering breath that made my lungs ache "disappeared."

"Don't say that." Blurted a childish voice from somewhere above me. I looked up and honestly, I was not a bit surprised to find a teenager in a red tacky suit hanging off a tree, upside down. I sighed and drank some more. It had been a long day.

"Mind your business kid." I sighed as monkey-boy got down from the tree.

"Are you okay?" He softly asked, but I refused to answer. Maybe if I acted like he wasn't there he'll disappear. Like everyone else. HA.

"I can call someone for you if you want." He continued, unaware of my morbid internal sense of humor. How ironic, I concluded. That a total stranger was the only person that cared enough to ask.

"There isn't anyone. Not anymore, at least." I refused to look at him as I admitted the truth. I kept gazing to the front as we sat in silence. I didn't want to see his pity, the pity that clouded Wong's eyes after he found me curled up crying after a particular nightmare, or in the way Strange would halt giving me shit after a panic attack.

But to my surprise, I was found instead with understanding.

"It sucks, doesn't it? Miss them and don't be able to do something about it, but remember them." Red-guy whispered, his voice becoming melancholic with every word. I looked at him and wonder if there were tears in his eyes every time he spoke about this.

"What's the point of remembering if it only causes pain? That's just cruel." I uttered playing with the hem of my shirt, a lonely tear falling. That was all I was gonna allow myself at the moment, one tear for the man I lost and for the life I never got to live.

"It is. But what about all of the happy memories? Those memories made me who I am, who would I be without them?" Bug-kid stated with so much confidence, that I couldn't help to wonder about him again, is the absence of us, affecting him someway? I shook my head at the thought, I don't think I ever was that important.

"Maybe they're gone, but you aren't. So live, if not for yourself, for them." the boy instructed with, what I think, was a smile behind the mask. He looked healed, I wonder if I'll ever be like that.

At the distance, the sirens could be heard which put an end to our conversation. Spider kid stood up and I came to the conclusion he couldn't be older than 15 years. Yikes, I just poured all my bottled-up trauma on a teenager.

"For the record? I don't think you're a monster, someone capable of loving as hard as you did can't be one." That was the last thing he said after he went swinging through the city.

As fast as he left tears clouded my vision. Because he was right. About everything. My life wasn't over, it had barely begun. Pietro was gone but our memories weren't. It didn't matter that he couldn't remember them. It didn't matter, because I could remember for both of us. My Pietro wouldn't have wanted me to stay like this forever, I know that. So out of respect for him, I had to live, and that I would do. No one was ever gonna take my life away from me again, the choice. I had to live for myself and I would fight for it, because of him.

And drowning my fears and pain in alcohol was not gonna do anything to solve my problems. It didn't help my abilities, it just made them unstable. I needed control, and for once in my life, I would take it.

I stood on wobbly legs and with all my force threw the alcohol bottle to the ground but to my embarrassment, it only bounced and didn't break as I expected. To my dismay, it kept rolling and eventually stopped before someone's shoes. I recognized those ugly shoes and their owner.

"That was embarrassing," mocked Stephen Strange a few meters from me. Any day I would've told him that having to walk with that face was embarrassing, but ant-boy's word rang strong in my head.

"I should have died that day, didn't I?" I knew the answer, but I had to ask, because maybe he knew why, maybe he knew the reason why so many failed, but I didn't.

"But you didn't." He stated, his voice rang through my body and told me everything he wanted to say but wouldn't. In some sick/ Stephen Strange way, he cared. He could've just left me there that day, but didn't. He could've sent someone else to get me today, he sure has more important things to do, but he came. I looked at him through my tears and realized, that in all of these past months there wasn't pity in his eyes, it was a way softer stare. I wonder if that's what a father is supposed to look like because at that moment he sure looked and act like the one I needed.

"No, I didn't," I repeated as if I had just realized. And I think to some extent, I just had. All this time I had been blinded by my grief that nothing else mattered. I was grieving and don't think I would ever stop, but life keeps going and so should I, if not for me, for him, for my Pietro.

"Teach me."

"Gladly."

***

~~1 year and 4 months later~~

"That was amazing!" I laughed, stepping through Wong's portal, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I recalled our latest mission.

"It was meh," Wong replied as he close the portal once we were on the New York's sanctum after 2 weeks of chasing some dark wizards. I looked around me and inhaled deeply, a smile on my face. I was finally home.

"Are you kidding me? I totally nailed that." I scoffed

"Nailed what?" Strange asked making his appearance before us. My smile widened at the sight of my teacher.

"Oh Stephen, you should've seen me. I was amazing." I gushed as I approached him and explained the latest mission and my accomplishments to him.

"Good."

"Don't sound too excited, I may think you care." I gave him a nasty look at his lack of interest. But after a few seconds without a come back I realized something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" I asked, unease rising inside of me. My first thought was someone died, but then I realized all the people I care about were in the room and they were pretty much alive. But Pietro wasn't. I paled and felt my heart skip a beat.

"You're not gonna like it." He sighed and looked at me. By the moment I was sure I was as pale as an albino salamander.

"They need our help, well, more specifically, yours." I was so relieved at the knowledge that he was okay that I didn't register what he was saying.

"What, who?" I scrunched up my face and tilted my head. Strange gave me a long look. Uneasiness gnawed at my insides, but nothing could've prepared me to hear that name come out of his lips.

"The Avengers."

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minisugakoobies · 2 years

Text

Happy Accidents | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: fluff, holiday, strangers to lovers, College!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: swearing, a lil’ smooching, Namjoon wears that blue cardigan, Namjoon also wears a beanie, it's as fluffy as marshmallows in a mug of hot cocoa

Word Count: 2.2K

Disclaimers: None, other than obviously I don’t own BTS - they simply inspire me

Summary: Sometimes your clumsiness leads to a happy accident.

A/N: This is my third story for the Winter Wonderland Fic Event, run by the fabulous @hellojeongkook! Inspired by those insta pics of Namjoon all bundled up for the cold weather. And that blue cardigan he wore that one time. You know the one. Unbeta'd as usual. I'd love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Sequel: Safe With Me - part of Milestone Celebration

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

Well, this is a colossal waste of time.

You don’t even know why you came tonight. Well, that’s not true, you know exactly why you’re here - Jung Hoseok. Your roommate begged you to come with him to this holiday party your university is throwing for students staying on campus over winter break.

Hobi twisted your arm, promising to do your laundry for the next month, knowing how much you hated schlepping down to the creepy basement every week. So you came. And now you’re alone by the refreshment table, sipping your hot cocoa, most decidedly not mixing it up with anyone.

(There isn’t any booze here. Insult to injury. You wish you’d pregamed, or at least thought to tuck a flask into your pocket.)

Hobi disappeared the minute you’d walked in, as soon as he spotted his crush Lisa, who you belatedly realized was the sole reason he wanted to come tonight. They’re currently spinning around the dance floor together, making the googliest of eyes at each other, and you want to gag at their cuteness.

Given how much Lisa clearly seems to like him, you aren’t sure why Hobi insisted on dragging you here. He obviously didn’t require a wingperson. Maybe this is his subtle way of suggesting you get out and have some of that ‘fun’ he’s always on about.

He’s annoyingly encouraging like that sometimes.

But instead, here you stand, too anxious to ask anyone to dance, seeking comfort in your favorite cold weather beverage. Glancing repeatedly at your watch until you start to worry you’re going to give yourself a repetitive stress injury. Hobi probably isn’t going to want to leave until the party ends, so you might as well find a seat somewhere and get comfortable.

With a sigh, you abandon your post by the mini cupcakes. As you turn, you nearly collide with someone, managing to stop just short. Unfortunately, your hot chocolate continues on its forward momentum, splashing all over the plain white t-shirt he wears underneath a light blue cardigan.

“Oh god!” you yell, setting your now empty cup on the table. Grabbing a stack of napkins, you begin blotting at the liquid, trying to slow its spread across his…

...rather broad chest.

You stop wiping, looking up… and up… into a ridiculously handsome face.

“It’s ok,” the tall man says, smiling kindly down at you. Two dragon-shaped eyes glimmer below a dark brow. As he grins, dimples pop in his cheeks, and you realize you still have your hands pressed against his pecs. You quickly lower them.

“I didn’t see you! I was just walking, and…” you trail off, taking a breath. “I’m so sorry for spilling hot chocolate on you.” Curse your ever-present clumsiness.

He tugs on his shirt, assessing the damage. Dark veins of liquid chocolate are still branching off, covering most of his chest and stomach at this point. It's definitely ruined. “It’s fine. It’s only my favorite shirt.”

Horrified, you stare at him. He glances at your face and laughs. “I’m kidding. It’s a plain tee. Sorry, dumb joke.”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” you apologize again, feeling silly.

“Accidents happen. Please don’t worry about it. I’m Namjoon, by the way. You are?”

You give him your name.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he repeats your name, the word becoming a rumbly melody in his deep voice.

You nod, lowering your eyes timidly, only to notice in dismay that you’ve also gotten some chocolate on his gorgeous sweater. “Augh, I’m so sorry! I think I ruined your cardigan, too.”

He examines the brown blotch. “Yep, you did.” He sighs, looking stern. “I’m afraid you owe me a new one.”

“Oh!” You bite your lip. “Of course, you’re right. I can replace it! I just need to know where you got this? And what size - “

“Whoa!” He holds up his hands and you stop babbling. “I’m kidding, again. I’m sorry. I’m really terrible with jokes, I guess.” He smiles reassuringly. “I’m sure it’ll come out in the wash.”

You just nod, afraid to say anything else and make a fool of yourself again.

“But if you want to make it up to me, you could dance with me.”

You stare at him so long that he laughs nervously, running his hand through his hair. “Only if you want to, of course. I really don’t expect -“

“Yes!” you blurt loudly, then flinch, wishing you could play it cool for once. “Yes. I’d like that.”

He offers his elbow and you grasp it lightly as he leads you onto the dance floor. As a slow holiday tune begins to play, he wraps one arm around your back and brings your hand up with the other. His hands are so large, making your own look tiny in comparison.

“I’m sorry again,” you say, now that the cocoa has dried into an unsightly stain.

Namjoon just shakes his head. “Really, don’t stress yourself about it. Truth be told, I’m glad you spilled your drink on me,” he confesses, making you peer up at him in confusion.

“Why, were you tired of that sweater?”

“No,” he chuckles, and you can’t help but smile at the warm sound. He dips his head shyly. “I was having trouble gathering the courage to ask you to dance. It’s just that… I never know how to talk to beautiful women.”

There are many things that you can’t understand in this world. This Adonis having any trouble finding a willing dance partner immediately leapfrogs to the top of the list.

But also… beautiful? His compliment goes straight to your head, and you breathe deeply before quipping, “Well, given your terrible jokes, I’m not surprised to hear that.”

His eyes widen before he catches your playful grin, and then he smirks. “Touché.”

“If it makes you feel better, I never know how to talk to cute guys, either,” you admit, glancing down.

“You seem to be doing fine right now.”

You laugh as he spins you around before pulling you back into his arms. “Oh, so you think I was talking about you?”

His face flushes as you giggle. You’re pleasantly surprised at how easy it is to banter with him like this. You were being honest when you said you had trouble talking to handsome men. (Other than Hobi, of course, but he’s practically your brother, so he doesn’t count.) Your awkwardness increases when you’re nervous, and you always end up saying something dumb or tripping over your own two feet.

He only asked for one dance, but you don’t part when the song ends. Or when the next one fades, either. The conversation keeps flowing, and Namjoon only releases you for the uptempo songs, automatically pulling you back into his arms when the music slows again.

The two of you chat about where you’re from and what you’re studying. You’re shocked to learn he’s an art history major just like you, because you’re sure you’ve never seen him in any of your classes and there is absolutely no way a man this gorgeous could possibly fly under your radar.

“So, what’s keeping you on campus over break? If you don’t mind me asking,” you add quickly, not wanting to seem like you’re prying.

“Needed to fill out some applications for summer internships, and knew if I went home, they’d end up forgotten. You?”

“Well, it’s just me and my dad at home,” you explain. “And he’s been out on a job site for several weeks. At least here, I’m not alone. My roommate also stayed.”

“Ah, that’s nice,” Namjoon hums as he deftly steers you away from a couple who are dancing to their own beat, arms flailing wildly. “But it’s weird, right? Not spending the holidays at home?”

“It’s different, for sure!”

“Different good or different bad?” He tilts his head as he looks at you.

“A mix, I’d say. It’s a little sad, missing out on some of my favorite traditions, but there have been some unexpected delights, too.” You can’t help but look up at him meaningfully, and are rewarded with an enchantingly bashful smile.

As Namjoon whirls you around the dance floor, you catch sight of Hobi, still swaying with Lisa. He covertly flashes a thumbs up in your direction, and you glance away quickly, hoping Namjoon didn’t see him.

Maybe you should lean into your good luck for once and ask Namjoon if he wants to go out sometime. Gazing up at him, you lick your lips anxiously, trying to work up the nerve, when your foot goes rogue and the heel of your boot stamps down directly on his toes. Hard.

“Ah!” he yelps, recoiling in pain.

“Sorry!” You draw back, hands held in front of you in apology.

“It’s ok!” he proclaims, but as he stumbles towards you, limping slightly, you manage to kick his other shin.

“Ow!” He hobbles, grabbing his leg, as you cringe.

Your klutziness strikes again. For some reason, you always lose control of your limbs when you get nervous, flailing around like a newborn calf learning how to walk.

Better bail before someone gets hurt. Or more hurt.

“Shit! I should probably go before I accidentally maim you or something. Th-thank you for the dance,” you stammer, turning away.

“Oh, no, it’s fine!” he protests, but you are already fleeing, heading for your coat. “Wait!”

You don’t look back, intent on saving what little face you have left. As you pass Hobi, he shoots you a concerned look, but you wave him off. Let him have his fun. Later, you can lament about how embarrassed you are. Right now, you just need to get out of there.

Bundled in your fluffy winter jacket, you step outside to find that it is snowing. You curse, wishing you’d checked the weather report earlier, because the cute boots Hobi convinced you to wear were not meant for walking in snow.

This means you need to move slowly and deliberately. The first few steps you take are easy, but as you reach the bottom of the steps, you slip, gasping as you pitch backwards -

-into a strong pair of arms.

Your world is tilted as you stare into those dark dragon eyes again. He’d caught you just before you’d hit the ground, so you’re practically laying on your back. It’s such a vulnerable position, finding yourself totally supported by him.

Setting you back upright, Namjoon grins. “Ok, you’re really boosting my confidence here, letting me sweep you off your feet.”

“That wasn’t you, that was the snow,” you respond without thinking, and he throws his head back as he guffaws, a loud laugh that resounds through the quiet night air. “Did you follow me out here?”

He nods, pulling his long gray trench around himself more tightly as the flecks of snow dot the dark material. A black beanie covers his thick hair, giving him a boyish appearance. “Yeah. I - I was going to ask for your number, but you ran off.”

“Oh?” You blink in surprise. “You sure? I’m afraid I’m always like this. Might be a health hazard dating me.”

He nods again, guiding you down the final steps with a hand on your lower back. Even through your coat, you can feel the heat of his palm where it presses against you. “Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, I'm not worried. I don’t break easily.”

You nearly comment that you believe him since he’s built like a sequoia, but at the tone of his voice you hold your quip.

“You’re not that clumsy, really,” he continues. “But maybe dancing isn’t your forte.”

It takes you a minute to realize he’s teasing. “I don’t think comedy is yours.”

You could listen to that boisterous laugh all night.

The weather is only getting worse, flakes coating everything in sight, so you decide to make your move before you both freeze. “Can I see your phone?”

You key in your number, then hand it back. He fires off a quick text. “There, now you have mine, too.”

Unknown: Can I walk you home?

Grinning, you nod. “That would be nice.”

Once again, he offers his arm, and you slide yours through.

“To be clear, I’m doing this because I don’t want you to injure yourself on the way home,” he informs you as you trudge down the snowy sidewalk towards your apartment.

“And here I was thinking you might want a goodnight kiss.” You shrug. “Good to know I don’t have to worry about that.”

“… I really gotta stop with the bad jokes.”

You laugh as you tug him down the pathway to your place.

“This is me,” you announce as you come to a stop. “If I can be honest with you?”

“Please.” His eyes shimmer merrily.

“I think you undersold yourself when it comes to talking to women. You did just fine with me.”

“Really?” He steps closer, forcing you to look up to meet his soft gaze. “Even with all the dumb attempts at humor?”

“Mmm, yeah, maybe fewer jokes would be all right,” you grin cheekily. “You could always try sweet talk instead.”

In the dim light of the streetlamp outside your building, snowflakes swirling between you melt from his warm smile as his lips drift towards yours. “Gotta save something for our first date.”

#hellojkwinterwonderland #ficscafe #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #btscreatorscorner #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon fluff #bts fanfic #bts fluff #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #kim namjoon fluff #namjoon fanfic #kim namjoon fanfic #possumswrite #my writing #fic: happy accidents #kim namjoon

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dreamlessinparis · 3 years

Text

Trapped in a Tangled Web

Pairing: Dark!Steve x F!Reader

Sequel to Run Rabbit Run

Summary: After the party that changed your life, you try to grasp your new reality, despite all the curve balls being thrown your way.

Word Count: 6951

Warning: explicit language, violence, mentions of blood, fear, pregnancy, blood, mean!Steve, dark!Lee (as a side character), starvation, spanking, mentions of kidnapping, punishment, 18+, prison cell, mental torment, bit of Stockholm syndrome, smut, mentions of throwing up, threats, choking, death, mentions of murder, Serial!Killer!Steve

A/N: This is a sequel to Run Rabbit Run, it's not entirely necessary to read that one first but it is advised because some things will make more sense, that's their origin story. This story is part of my serial killer quartet, all the men will have two parts to their stories, a how they met and a flash into the later on. There might end up being more parts but initially just gonna be two parts each. This is Steve's part two. I wanted to have these posted last month but I didn't have time sadly. A huge thank you to my lovely friend @wakingbeauty ❤️ You're the absolute best babe! All mistakes are still my own. Hope you enjoy!

if you’re a minor, please DNI!

Please do not repost, publish or translate my work. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! Thank you for reading :)

You stared out the window beside your bed, watching the large trees sway in the wind of the storm. The full moon’s bright light peeked through the dense clouds. You used to love the moonlight but now it reminded you too much of the night you were taken, the night you lost your friends, and essentially your life.

A wave of nausea washed over you and you rushed as quietly as possible to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. Barely making it to your knees, you heaved out your guts into the porcelain bowl.

“Doll, you alright?” Steve’s caring voice asked, the door slowly inching open. His sweet demeanor always threw you off because you knew the true horrors that lied underneath. What he was truly capable of. He crouched next to you, holding your hair as the thought brought on another wave.

His free hand rubbed your back, soothing you more than you wanted to admit. It was not your fault though, Steve was truly all you had left, he had made sure of that. So the desperation of that had you holding onto him for dear life. You hated yourself for it but it was all you could do. The man was a monster hidden behind a handsome face but as long as you behaved and took him like a good girl, he didn’t hurt you. In fact, he had the ability to make you feel so good, that sometimes you could pretend you actually wanted it.

Sitting back on your heels, you wiped your mouth with some toilet paper. Steve sat silently with you as you accessed if your body was actually done. Nodding to yourself, you started to get up. His hands found your waist, helping you up and you did your best not to flinch away.

“I’m okay, Steve,” you said, your voice scratchy from the strain. You tried to step out of his hold but he stayed firm.

“Steve, let me go so I can brush my teeth and go back to bed please,” you pleaded, trying again to pull away. This time he let you, stepping aside so you could reach the sink.

“Are you sick? Do you feel unwell anywhere else?” he asked, leaning against the wall behind you. He was watching you through the mirror and you returned his gaze, shaking your head as you prepared your toothbrush.

“No, I feel fine otherwise. Must have been something I ate,” you replied before beginning to brush your teeth.

“Or what you haven’t been eating,” Steve retorted, coming up to stand next to you. His fingers caressed the nape of your neck, before gripping it lightly. For anybody else, this could have been a loving gesture but for Steve, you knew it was a warning, “Don’t think I haven’t been noticing how little you’ve been eating,” he whispered. Your eyes widened in fear and surprise. But you should have known that nothing slipped his notice, “Don’t make me bring the tube back out.”

You quickly shook your head, spitting out the paste and gargling out your mouth.

“I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t doing it on purpose, I just haven’t had much of an appetite lately. I’ll do better!”

“That’s my good girl,” Steve praised, stroking the back of your head before moving to wipe your mouth with a towel. He took your clammy hand and pulled you back into the bedroom.

Once the two of you were settled back into bed, Steve pulled you to his chest, holding you tight against him. He fell asleep almost immediately. You, on the other hand, laid awake in his impossibly strong arms for what felt like hours, until it became too hard to stay awake and your body went under.

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

Since you were one of the first girls to be not a prisoner, better yet not a murder victim, you had earned the freedom to roam the house, occasionally the yard if Steve was outside too. Yet most of your time was spent in the library. The main area was usually occupied by Bucky’s girl and that girl still frightened you, was too wild and murderous.

Your room was also not an option, there were too many bad memories. Not sexually, all those were reserved for your time in your concrete prison. However, when Steve had deemed you safe enough to move upstairs, he left you alone a lot especially when he had “business” to attend to. What he had never known was that the vent in his room was linked to the basement. So every day and some nights you would have to listen to the tortured screams and desperate pleas of their victims.

You never told Steve why he would come back to find you trembling on the bed every night. You just assumed he knew and was doing it so that he could comfort you at night. It only took you two weeks to break. Steve came back to find you hiding under the bed, a pillow covering your head, repeating the words ‘please make it stop, I’ll be good’ over and over again.

Steve had coaxed you out and even heard the sounds himself as Lee was still in the basement working through his share of women. Immediately he took you out to the hallway, yelling down the stairs telling Bucky to tell Lee to cut it out. That night the two of you spent the night in a guest room. Steve liked you scared but only when he was causing the terror so the next day he had the basement completely soundproofed, especially to his room. The memories still lingered and you couldn’t bring yourself to spend too much time in there alone.

So that’s why Steve found you curled up with a book on one of the comfy lounge chairs of the library. You were so lost in your book that you didn’t hear him coming, nearly jumping out of your skin when his hand landed on your arm.

“Sorry doll, I called your name twice. Thought you had heard me,” Steve said, sitting down beside you.

“That’s because I was pretending to be anywhere but here,” you mumbled under your breath, hiding your face behind the book. Steve grabbed the top of the pages, pushing the book down. The look on his face told you that despite not having heard what you said, he knew you had said something he wasn’t going to like. Panicking internally you backtracked, “I’m sorry I was lost in the book. Did you need something?”

“I wanted to see you before Lee and I left to get more girls. I didn’t want to leave before seeing you,” Steve said, gliding his fingers down your cheek. You knew what he wanted, and you didn’t want to fight him. You were already so tired lately, fighting him seemed too much effort. Instead, you leaned into his touch, and he smiled at your easy submission.

His hand continued down your torso, meeting the other one at your hip before pulling you into his lap. You straddle him, your thighs on either side of his, and you stroke your fingers through his hair, coming down to run through his beard. He made a low sound, similar to a purr, closing his eyes at your touch.

It was moments like this where you forgot that you were his prisoner and just enjoyed his company. You continued your motions back up through his hair, tugging at the roots the way he liked it. You began to pepper kisses on his face, finally kissing him on the lips. The kiss was feverish and passionate, one that made you tingly all over. His hands were splayed on your upper back, holding you flush to his body as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

Your fingers scratched through his scalp causing him to groan into your mouth. Losing yourself in his taste, you let your body submit to the sensations, grinding your hips down. It was your turn to moan, his hardening length gliding over your aching cunt with each motion. Your hands slid down, hugging his broad shoulders, something about these moments made you want to be as close to his body as possible.

Deep down you didn’t like that he was leaving, you didn’t want to be alone without his protection. He trusted Bucky and Curtis enough not to hurt you but without him, you didn’t feel truly safe. It hurt you to admit it but it was true, so you were going to savor his presence for as long as he was around.

Sliding his hands down your back, he grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. Your lack of bra made him grunt in approval, ducking his head down to feather kisses all over your bare breasts. Your back arched for him, and he pulled a nipple into his mouth, sucking and tugging it gently, before moving to the next one. His hands roughly kneaded your ass through your shorts, pushing your hips down on his as he worked on your tits.

Gasps and soft whimpers fell from your lips, and your whole body was aflame from his touch. Needy to feel more of him, you grabbed at his shirt gathering it up in your hands and trying to pull it up. He released your skin with a pop, compiling to your want and pulling the shirt up over his head. His sculpted body was a marvel to see every time, yet you couldn’t help running your fingers over his bulging pecs, tracing down the lines of his abs. One day you were going to have to ask him if he would let you kiss and bite your way down his torso, but he probably wouldn’t agree to it, being that he liked to be in control.

You leaned down, kissing his chest, his neck, his shoulder before grabbing his face and pressing your lips to his. Steve didn’t break the kiss, as he reached between you two and worked on taking himself out of his pants. You followed his lead, blindly reaching down to help him. You took hold of his cock, and pulled him free carefully. It felt heavy and velvety beneath your touch and you twisted your wrist, pumping him slowly. Steve’s head fell forward on your shoulder, his breathing heavy, the only sign he was affected by your touch.

He hooked a finger under your shorts and panties, pulling them aside, running his thumb through your wet folds. Deciding you were wet enough to take him, he wrapped his hand over yours, helping you guide his cock head over through the swollen petals, and lining up to your greedy hole. He moved his hold to your hips, slowly sinking you onto his cock. Your hands held onto his shoulders, biting your lips as his girth stretched you out. No matter how many times you had taken him, you could never get used to his size, needing to adjust to the burn every time.

He bucked up into you, making you dig your nails into his shoulders. Steve rarely gave you time to adjust, he didn’t seem to really care much for your discomfort, knowing eventually that you would start to enjoy it. Plus you knew he was in a rush, so you were surprised he hadn’t flipped you two over and fucked you into the seat yet.

All you could do was hold on as he fucked up into you at a fast pace, a pace that had you throwing your head back and screaming his name. Your breasts bounced along with his thrusts and if anyone were to walk into the library right now, they would get quite a show. You didn’t care though, his dick was stroking spots in you that made you see stars. He was so deep in you that you could feel the breath get punched out of you with each snap of his hips.

“Fuck doll, I’m going to miss the tight cunt when I’m gone. You gonna keep it nice and warm for me okay?” Steve grunted in your ear. You keened in response, no proper words forming in your head as he nudged your cervix, “That’s my girl. So fucking good for me.”

You could feel yourself getting close to your climax, your body beginning to tense up. Steve felt you clench around him, kissing along your throat and keeping his rhythm steady.

“Steve, I’m going to come,” you whimpered, gripping his shoulders tighter.

“Go ahead, doll. Come for me,” Steve growled, using his thumb to tap your clit rapidly, and launching you over that edge. You cried out his name, succumbing to pleasure that washed over your body. You rolled your hips down, meeting his as he kept going, wanting to help him reach his climax. The aftershocks of your orgasm kept steady as you fluttered around him. You could tell by the way his breathing hitched and his body tensed that he was close too.

Steve kissed you roughly, just as his orgasm hit triggering your second orgasm, and he covered your silky walls with his spend. He continued rutting his hips until every last drop coated your insides. In this position, you could feel him shoot his cum so far in you that it would forever be a part of you. Even after he was done, he stayed lodged in you, letting you come down from your high.

You rested your forehead to his, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. His hands caressed your skin, memorizing every part of you he could.

“I’m going to miss you,” you admitted before you could stop yourself. His head snapped up and he regarded you with a curious gaze.

“Me or my cock, doll?” he teased and you ducked your head, hiding in his neck.

“No Steve, you. I’m going to miss you,” you murmured into his skin. He grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you up so he could see your face again. He was gauging whether you were serious or not and you didn’t know what had come over you but you truly were going to miss him.

“So that means that you don’t want me fucking any of the girls I capture, right?” Steve asked, his face joking. You growled suddenly becoming possessive.

“Fuck no. You touch another woman, you don’t touch me!” you replied. Steve’s face turned to stone, his large hand wrapping around your throat cutting off your windpipe.

“Excuse me? Don’t think that just because I fuck you softly, means that you have any right to talk to me like that. You’re mine, I can fuck a million girls and still come back and bury myself in this pussy,” He growled, holding your face close to his, his breath hot on your skin, “This pussy is mine, understand?”

His hand roughly cupped your mound and a broken moan fell from your lips. He eased up on your throat, allowing you to gasp for air.

“Yes sir,” you croaked out, rubbing your throat, “Sorry sir.”

He pretty much pulled you off his cock and shoved you to the side. You grabbed the back of the chair as to not fall off when you bounced roughly. Steve adjusted himself back in his jeans, grabbing his shirt before standing up.

“This is not how I wanted to leave things. But you had to get fucking greedy didn’t you?” Steve spat, yanking his shirt over his head. You silently put yours back on, afraid to say anything else to piss him off, “Couldn’t just be a good girl.”

“I’m always good, Steve,” you mumbled. His head snapped in your direction and you sank back into your seat.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing!” you defended quickly. He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, pulling up and bending you over the desk nearby. You shrieked as he yanked down your shorts and panties and slapped your ass so hard that crack echoed in the empty library. His hand met your skin again before the pain of the first smack set in and soon your ass felt like it was on fire. Steve kept going on until he was satisfied with the redness of your ass cheeks, ignoring your tears and your pleas for him to stop. Your cheek was warm compared to the cool wood that it was pressed against. Your whole body heaved with sobs, as Steve rounded the desk, bending down to kiss you on your temple.

“Now that you have a reminder of what happens when you’re not a good girl, doll, I hope you’ll remember this, or I promise much worse punishments to come,” He whispered softly. You almost couldn’t hear him over the pounding in your ears, but you nodded silently anyways, “Don’t worry baby, I’m not going to fuck anyone else while I’m gone.”

And with that he left you, bent over and crying into the wood. As soon as the door shut, you slid off the desk, onto your knees, letting out a pain cry when your ass touched the ground. Instinctively you rolled over onto your stomach and laid there, feeling your whole body ache. You were so mad at yourself, he was being nice and you had to go and provoke him. Yet something about him having another girl drove you up a wall. The words came out before you could stop them and you suffered the consequences. You don’t know why you ever thought that you were more to him than a prisoner, a toy, his cum slut. It caused you nothing but pain for you not to remember that.

Slowly you got to your knees, hissing as you pulled your shorts back up. You limped your way back to your room, luckily avoiding anyone along the way. Steve usually puts a salve on your ass after he gets rough during sex but this was a punishment so different circumstances.

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It took 3 weeks into Steve's absence to realize that the nausea wasn't food-related. It took another week for you to get up the nerve to talk to Bucky's girl and ask her to get you a test. She was the only one the men, mainly Bucky, trusted enough to let off the compound. She mostly worked to replenish supplies but also went out with Bucky and Curtis to get girls.

Surprisingly she was kind to you, not asking questions and bringing back exactly what you needed. She even sat with you while you waited for the test to complete, telling Bucky to leave the two of you alone for a bit. You guessed that Steve told Bucky to keep an eye on you especially after how you two left things.

You still couldn't properly sit down, a dull ache lingering every time you did. You had begun to wonder if it was a phantom pain or if it actually hadn't healed yet. The two of you sat on the made bed, the bed that you hadn't touched since Steve left. At first, it was in protest of his punishment but then it became apparent that despite everything you truly missed him. Missed that sick cruel man and couldn't bring yourself to sleep alone in that bed without him.

The timer went off and she looked at you expectantly. When she saw you had no intention of moving, she pulled her hand from yours and went to the bathroom. Her face was blank when she returned, leaning on the door frame.

"I don't know what face to make because I'm not sure what kind of news you're expecting here," she admitted. You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip as you pondered the same thing.

"Honestly I'm not too sure about it myself. Am I pregnant?" You asked hesitantly and after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.

Your heart sank, you couldn't bring a baby into this household. What kind of life would it have? A life where just down the hall, Daddy is murdering women? You shook your head, trying to clear the thought, and began to cry.

Bucky's girl wrapped you up in a hug swaying you back and forth. She was quite understanding for someone who seemed to enjoy this life. Maybe it was the fact that you two had been here the longest, and she just took a liking to you. You weren't sure but you were glad to not be alone.

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For weeks after, you worried yourself sick wondering how Steve would react to the news. You did your best to eat as much as possible but the worry combined with nausea made it difficult.

Curtis and Bucky both hovered in the room whenever you were downstairs and you could feel that watching your every move. You didn't know if Bucky's girl told Curtis' but whenever they noticed your unease, they distracted their men. You knew for Bucky's girl this wasn't a big deal, she actually loved the bastard but Curtis', that girl caused Curtis more harm than any of the rest of you so you knew it was a huge step for her to willingly get his attention.

You were thankful to not be alone but it didn't do much for the nerves. The day Steve was due to get back, you were so shaken up that you kept dropping everything and anything. Bucky had kicked you out of the kitchen after you broke three eggs and a measuring cup. It wasn't just Steve's impending arrival that scared you, it was the fact that you caught sight of yourself this morning, the slight curve of your stomach quite apparent on your wilting frame. There was no way you could hide this from Steve for too long.

Wearing the biggest sweatshirt you could find in Steve's closet, you were dozing off in one of the armchairs by the fire. The open floor plan of the first level allowed you to be as far as possible from everyone else in the room but still where they could see you.

You must have actually fallen asleep because the next thing you knew you were jolted awake by a door slamming. Your eyes flew open and you saw Lee dragging in two unconscious girls, one over his shoulder, the other by the hair behind him. He had blood all down the front of his t-shirt and it sent a chill up your spine.

He was never the most cheerful of the bunch but the deep scowl on his face now, made you shrink even further in your seat, hoping he didn't look your way. From the look of things, the trip wasn't as successful as they wanted it.

You noticed that Curtis' girl was gone and you got up too, trying to sneak off before the next man came in with more girls. You truly hoped none of them were conscious, it was one thing to see them unconscious but when they were awake, their sad eyes and desperate pleas made your heart clench. You always averted your eyes but their faces remained burned in your memory.

Halfway to the stairs the door opened and shut again, this time harder than the last, the screen rattled in its frame. You made the mistake of looking back. There stood Steve, his front also covered in blood but more, way more. It painted the front of his jeans, his tight t-shirt, and his hands. His thick beard looked like it was coated as well, with a few streaks over the rest of his face like someone ran a hand over it.

His blue eyes looked even brighter with the darkened beard and they were locked on you.

"What are you doing down here?" He snarled, advancing on you. You knew he couldn't possibly be mad that you were down here because you had been here before, the last time they brought in more girls. He was furious about something else and you were the only target around.

Subconsciously your hand dropped to your stomach protectively. His eyes never wavered from yours so he didn't take notice of it.

"I asked you a question. Answer me!"

"I fell asleep in the chair Steve, I was just going back up before anyone came back in."

"And when you saw me, why did you keep going? Why didn't you come to greet me?"

You were surprised at the direction of his questions, but then you realized what he was trying to do. He was looking for reasons to be mad at you, to channel whatever rage he had into you. You slowly began to back away and gulped when his eyes darkened.

"I didn't. I - uhm - Steve you're covered in blood," was your meek response. His eyes glinted with a mixture of anger and amusement and you couldn't decide with emotion you disliked more.

"That shouldn't matter, doll. You should come running when you see me. Be a good girl. I think you've forgotten your manners," Steve said, clearly baiting you. You kept your mouth shut, knowing you would fall into the trap so easily, say something you shouldn't. "Found plenty of girls this go around who would make great replacements for you. Maybe I should give you to Lee. Get me a new girl."

You tried to bite your tongue, but you had had enough of this. He goaded you constantly, making you think he didn't care, but you knew he did because otherwise, he wouldn't try so hard to break you. He would have gotten rid of you a long time ago, had you been disposable.

"Fine Steve, do it then. Give me to Lee. Find yourself a new prisoner. I'm nothing to you anyways," you snapped back and Steve flinched like you had hit him before his face turned deadly. You knew you'd fucked up long before you felt his hand wrap around your throat.

His grip was ironclad and you were gasping from how tightly he held you, clawing desperately at his veiny forearm. It terrified you that he could actually kill you so easily. You had never pushed back at him like this, this was new. You probably shouldn’t have done it when he was already clearly upset. Emotions won over you this time, the worst time possible. You had just signed your death warrant.

“Steve.” You managed to get out, but he didn’t falter as he used his hand like a collar, his arm the leash. He walked with a fierce purpose but instead of going upstairs, he bypassed them heading to the padlocked basement door. Your eyes widened in fear and you began to drag your feet trying to slow him down.

“Steve! No, no, no, please,” you begged, continuing to chant no desperately. You couldn’t go back there, locked in that small, dark room, the room where Steve had kept you alone, only showing up for mealtimes and sex.

He descended the stairs, your pleas falling on deaf ears, the sound soon melding into the cacophony of the cries of the other girls, a mixture of exuberant voices and tired, cracked whispers. Your whole body trembled the closer Steve got your old hole. You almost wished that it would be occupied so he would put you elsewhere.

Alas, luck wasn’t on your side when he stopped in front of your old door.

“I’m sorry, sir. Please, I’ll do anything!” you croaked out in a last-ditch effort. Steve simply tightened his hand, completely cutting off your airway. Your clawing became even more gouging. The metal door swung open and Steve shoved you in, tossing you carelessly onto the dirty, thin mattress in the corner. You gasped hungrily for air, you couldn’t form any words but you reached out for Steve.

Your fingers skimmed his pants before he moved out of reach. Your body felt weak, still trembling as you tried to crawl after him. Steve slammed the door shut just as you reached it. The little window slid open and Steve’s face came into view.

“I had a fucking long day and I wanted to come home to bury myself in you, doll. I had even forgiven you for the shit you pulled before I left. Then you had to run your mouth again,” Steve hissed. “Mouthy bitches end up dead around here. Lucky for you I like how your pussy feels around me, so I’m just going to punish you this time. Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

The window shut before you could try to answer him. The room was plunged into a dark, the silence almost suffocating. Numbly you crawled to the mattress, as far in the corner as you could. You pulled your knees up, curling into yourself.

Shutting your eyes tightly trying to pretend you weren’t in here, but ghosts of your screams and other memories haunted you. The cold and silence made those things echo in your mind on repeat. Tears fell freely, loud sobs filling the small space.

You leaned your head on the concrete wall, running your fingers over the wall. Despite the fact that you couldn't see, you knew it was stained with blood, your blood. The last time you were in here, you had clawed at the wall, delusional enough to think you could scratch your way out. Your nails had been raw and bloody by the time Steve had come to check on you.

Suddenly the room filled with light and the door clicked open. Your head snapped up, a sense of hope raced through you.

That hope was quickly crushed when you saw Lee instead of Steve. He held a girl in his arms, looking shocked to see you but that shock morphed into an amused smirk. Dropping the girl carelessly next to you, he crouched in front of you getting close.

"Oh, little birdie what did you do to end up back in this cage?" He taunted, his whiskey and smoke-laced breath fanning over your face and you retreated further into the wall, "Maybe if he doesn't want you anymore, I could always take care of you."

His fingers were wet when he trailed them down your cheek. You stayed perfectly still, biting your lips to quiet your whimpers.

"So lovely when you cry," he whispered, placing a kiss on your cheek before he got up, leaving you alone again. The click of the door was such a final sound, the nail on your coffin. Your body felt cold and you wiped the spot Lee had touched you with the back of your hand.

It had blood on it when you looked down. That's why his hand felt wet. You viciously rubbed your cheek trying to clean it off. Using the bottom of your shirt, Steve's shirt, you wiped off as much as you could. You went back to rest your head against the wall again, hugging yourself.

Your bones ached, muscles cramping the more you sat, but you didn't move. The hours dragged on, you wished you could fall asleep, but every time you shut your eyes, the memories that loomed over, came back.

The other girl was still unconscious, slumped in an uncomfortable position. Normally you would try to fix her form but you were too paralyzed to move. Focusing on a spot on the wall, you tried to take deep breaths, but nothing seemed to ease your panic.

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You managed to zone out for a bit and no one came back for you. Becoming aware of that fact the panic began to deepen, accompanied by a weakness in your bones. You tried to remember the last time you ate.

Probably yesterday afternoon. Your stomach growled as if answering your question. You were sure at this point a couple of meals had passed by. Suddenly you were hungry, yet the thought of food turned your stomach. You wanted the other girl to wake up just so you had some kind of noise or conversation.

Your muscles ached as you unraveled from the ball you were in to reach out to the girl. The drug they used should have worn off by now. You nudged her shoulder, nothing. The closer you got, the better you saw that the shallow breathing that was there hours ago was not gone. The girl was dead, probably for some time now.

You recoiled back, wiping your hand on the mattress. The tears returned, you were tired, scared, hungry, and quite thirsty. The dog bowl full of water sat next to you, but the dead roach in it deferred you. You weren't that desperate yet.

It began to sink in that you were not only trapped but trapped with a dead girl. Soon you might be in her position. The terror gripped you and you began to scream, Loyd and throat-ripping.

You kept going until your throat was raw and your voice was no higher than a whisper. No one came. Where the fuck was everyone? Where was Steve? Did he seriously toss you aside? Did he forget you?

At least Lee would come back for you. The disturbing thought brought you more comfort than it should have. You just needed something to hold on to. Something to anchor your slipping sanity. You felt cold, a chill setting into your bones, the hunger making you feel lightheaded. Your hand slid down to your stomach, another wave of tears crashing through you at the thought of your unborn child.

Pressing a hand to the wall to steady yourself, you slowly got to your feet. If you were going to die, at least you could be pounding at the door when you do. The room spun as you got fully upright. Leaning your full weight on the wall, you made your way to the door. It took far longer than it should have, your feet felt like they were encased in concrete, weighing you down with each step.

Finally reaching the door, you slumped against the metal, the coolness waking you up a tad. Only momentarily as your knees began to buckle and you slid downward. You weakly slapped the door, using all the strength you had. The last of it was ebbing out of you like air out of a balloon. Unconsciousness attached itself to you, dragging you into the dark water, further and further down until you hear a loud crack of lightning. How were you hearing lightning? The dull pain began to worsen by the minute, making you realize that that sound was your head hitting the cement ground. That realization was the last thing you remember before darkness took you over.

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A steady beeping noise filled the room. Was an alarm going off? No, it was too low for an alarm. Plus the basement doesn’t have an alarm. Maybe you should suggest they get one in case one of the girls escaped. Well if you ever got out of the basement yourself; guess your ghost could tell them.

You heard the sounds of a babbling brook, which also made no sense. How hard had you hit your head? Your eyes felt almost glued shut when you tried to open them. Breathing slowly, you take inventory of yourself. Your whole body felt heavy, like you were emerging from quicksand. The blanket covering you was soft and this mattress felt too soft to be the one in the basement. Where the fuck were you?

Oh fuck. You were dead. That was the only plausible explanation. You tried to open your eyes again, having more luck this time. Light penetrated your vision and your eyes snapped, squeezing tightly to keep out the light.

With great effort, you lift your hand over your eyes and carefully squint your eyes open. Sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating the whole room. Slowly you adjusted to the light, taking in your surroundings. You were definitely not downstairs and you weren't dead either. You recognized this room, it was the only bedroom on the first floor. The "hospital" room. Mainly it was used for the men if they got hurt and females they needed to sterilize. Something they used to do when they still fucked the girls they killed. Well, Lee still did, but he didn't have a girl. Who would love a bastard like him anyway? Come to think of it, who would love any of them?

Since the cabin was in the middle of nowhere, it was fully equipped with hospital supplies and machines. Steve had mentioned to you once that before all this, he had worked as an EMT, and still knew someone who could provide him with the equipment and medicine needed.

Blinking a few times until you could fully open your eyes, you tried to sit up. Your body wasn't having it so instead, you looked around to see if anyone was there with you. The beeping you had heard came from the machine you were hooked up to. An IV was attached to it, leading into your arm. You must have been receiving fluids or something to keep you alive.

The babbling brook grew louder and you realized it wasn't water but a murmur of voices out in the living room. The closer they got, the more you could make out.

"Why the fuck did no one tell me she wasn't eating?" Steve spat. Ah, Steve, your body trembled at the thought of him, yet somehow your heart wanted him to come in so you see him. There was something wrong with you if you were yearning for that man after everything.

Your hand moved to your belly, the slight curve still apparent but that didn't mean much.

"We didn't know, Steve!" Bucky replied, "It's not like we could watch her all day!"

Steve growled and you heard something hit the wall. A body perhaps?

"Steve, stop!" You heard Bucky's girl exclaim, "She probably wasn't eating because she wasn't feeling well. I remember her mentioning that ever since the baby, she had no appe…" her voice trailed off, before she exclaimed fuck loudly, realizing her slip up.

"The what?" Steve asked, his voice almost too low for you to hear. You strained yourself to listen harder, wincing when your body ached at the tension, "did you say the baby?"

Something slid down the wall, definitely a body and you assumed Bucky was let go. The door swung open, revealing Steve who faltered for a moment not expecting you to be awake or staring at him with a wide-eyed expression.

He shut the door behind him, locking it and you knew, this was it. He found out about the baby and now he was going to kill you. Fuck. You tried to sit up again, maybe attempt to get out of bed but your body wasn't cooperating. It wanted to stay put, too tired to try anything.

"Stop trying to get out of the bed, doll," Steve commanded, slowly approaching the bed. He seemed almost fearful that you were going to hurt yourself or freak out.

"Please," you whispered, your throat still raw from all the screaming you'd done, however many days ago. You swallowed a couple times before trying again, "please don't kill me."

Steve was shocked by your words, but he still came closer, taking a seat next to your bed.

"I'm not going to kill you. You almost died on me and it actually terrified me," Steve admitted, "I was so angry I couldn't think straight that day and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I should have never put you down there. I shouldn't have starved you."

You were surprised at this. Why was he saying all this? There's no way that this man, this vicious murderous man, had a caring bone in his body. Yet your heart sped up, hoping he truly meant what he was saying. "There were so many other ways I could have punished you. You deserved more than to be locked down there, you earned your freedom. You've been so good to me and it was unwarranted. Next time I will keep your punishments up here where I can keep an eye on you." Steve continued.

Steve reached out, cupping one of your hands into his and kissing each knuckle gently before resting his forehead on your thigh. You used your free hand to card through his thick locks, wanting to comfort him. Despite everything, that's all you wanted, his approval and his comfort. Steve lifted his head, your hand drifting down to his cheek. He leaned into it, turning his head to place a kiss on your palm.

"You're not going to kill me?" You croaked out, still not believing it. Steve shook his head.

"No, I'm not going to kill you, doll. You're mine, you're not going anywhere," he stated, "Are you really pregnant?"

Watching for any flicker of anger, you slowly nodded. Steve’s face was a mask of awe and marvel and he leaned forward to kiss your tummy. Your whole body tensed up but relaxed as he reached up to stroke your face. He got up, gently pushing you aside, and climbed into bed, before pulling you to rest against him.

You snuggled into his warmth, your whole body content with the way he was pressed to you. Your emotions weren't normal, neither was your contentment. You were having a baby with a murderer. Yet as he ran his hand up and down your back, you held onto that sliver of hope that deep down in his black heart he felt something for you and that was enough for now.

Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@maladaptivexxdaydreaming

@sweeterthanthis

@fuckandfluff

@sparkledfirecracker

@tumblin-theworldaway

@jobean12-blog

#dark!steve x reader #dark!steve x you #steve rogers x you #serial killer au #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #chris evans fanfiction

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winchester-girl67 · 2 years

Text

Cock-A-Doodle-Doo

Summary: The reader has an earache and takes matters into her own hands when the boys leave her behind on a hunt. Things take a wild turn when they return to the bunker and Dean tries to comfort her when the pain becomes too much.

Sequel to Bubble, Bubble, Bath & Trouble

Pairing: Dean x Wiccan!reader

Fandom: Supernatural

Square: Magical Healing Cock @howbadcanitbebingo

Word Count: 1,891

Warnings: language, hurt!reader, fluff

A/N: Okay, I know this is a bit of a different take on the square, but I hope you enjoy some earache induced weirdness. Written for @howbadcanitbebingo.

_____

"Y/N," Dean called through the bunker after stopping off at your bedroom and finding you weren't there. The comforters on your bed were all jumbled up so he knew you couldn't be far. "Y/N?"

"Ugh... Get your feathery ass back here! Just stop moving would you... Don't make me chase you! Get down here!" Dean heard you groan right before he turned the corner to see you had toppled over a couple of chairs in the library. "Ow."

"You okay, sweetheart?" He asked, crouching behind you and grabbing your shoulders. You started, jumping and whipping your head around at the contact, easing slightly when you met his green eyes. "Whoa, easy it's just me."

You hadn't heard him come into the room, though to be fair you hadn't heard much of anything lately. Your ear was completely blocked and throbbing and sore as hell for the better part of a week now. And even though your other ear was fine, it was still hard to tell where sounds were coming from or even make out what people were saying to you at times.

You only mentioned it in passing to Sam a couple of days ago which was why Dean had insisted on you sitting this hunt out when he squealed on you. Since then it hadn't really gotten any worse but it also wasn't getting any better.

"Who were you talking to? Cas here?" He sounded mostly like a Charlie Brown character, but you caught the name 'Cas'.

"Cas is here? Finally!" You'd only been praying to him for the past day or so. You hated going to the doctors and you did everything you could to avoid it. But Dean just shook his head at you, his brow instantly furrowing, "...what?"

"Dude, why does the bunker look like a sorority had a pillow fight in here? There are feathers everywhere." Sam rambled, walking into the library and brushing some feathers from his pant legs. "And you're gonna hate this, but there's clear signs of witchcraft in the kitchen again. Seriously, it's a mess, don't go in there." Dean helped you to your feet and forcibly sat you on top of the table when you tried to slip past him.

"Stay," you heard the command loud and clear and scowled back at him, mumbling a few choice words which he obviously picked up on since your version of mumble wasn't exactly low key right now. "I thought I said no keggers while we were gone." He chuckled, but you weren't in the mood for one of Dean's quips and you bit his hand when he grazed your ear, attempting to cup your cheek with his palm. "Ouch, what the hell, Y/N?"

It wasn't like you broke the skin or anything, it was more of a love bite in your opinion. You just didn't want him to touch your ear, it hurt too much as it was and he wasn't an idiot, he would figure out that you were still in pain. And then he would force you to go to the doctors.

"No, no. No," Dean huffed, grabbing you again by the waist when you tried to jump off of the table. "Explain." He said, holding you in place by your shoulders as you sat eye level with him on the table. You didn't catch what he said and stared back at him squinting your eyes quizzically. "Who were you chasing?" You watched his lips move as he talked.

"A rooster," you muttered, pointing at the top of the stack in the library where that damned bird sat on top, watching- mocking you. You growled at it and it let out a loud crow as if it knew you were talking about it.

"Why-" Dean started, gripping your chin and turning you to face him when he noticed you were too caught up in the rivalry, staring down the farm animal. "Why is there a rooster in the bunker?"

The painkillers you took were just starting to kick in and the throbbing in your ear eased up enough for you to understand him now, if you focussed hard enough with your good ear.

"I added the wrong ingredient, I-I was just trying to conjure some sort of... healing potion. It was supposed to be a simple spell." You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'll tell you one thing though, that store I bought the 'Angel Feathers' from is totally gonna hear from me on Yelp."

"Actually, angel feathers are extremely rare to come by. I wouldn't expect just any Wiccan shop to have them in stock unless they have an actual angel in their back pocket." Sam explained as per usual.

"See, that's information that would've been useful about, hmm... I don't know, three hours ago." You said, throwing your arms in the air.

"You know we literally have an angel on call right?" Dean chimed in, again with the teasing. "About yea-high, brown hair, blue eyes; answers to the name Cas."

"Ha, ha. You're hilarious." You muttered, glaring at him and batting his hands away. "Correction, you have an angel on call. Cas doesn't like me, never has, never will."

"Y/N, that's ridiculous. Of course he likes you. He made a special trip just to help you out with those bad cramps a few months back. He also saved your life on that vampire hunt last year." Dean argued, finally pulling off his jacket and tossing it onto the table beside you.

"He only did that because you were freaking out and you weren't even on that hunt."

"We ran out of chocolate... And if I was on that hunt that never would've happened to you." He said matter-of-factly, placing a hand on either side of your thighs and leaning forward until his face was an inch from yours. His bright green eyes searched yours and you absentmindedly counted the freckles dusting his nose and cheeks.

"Yeah, well if he cares then where is he because I've been praying for days-"

"Y/N/N, Cas' angel radio has been on the fritz, you know that. But you could've actually called him on the phone." Sam explained, pulling out his cell and wiggling it in his hand for emphasis.

"Oh, yeah... forgot he had one of those." You sighed, rubbing your sore ear. It didn't help when you touched it, but you couldn't stop.

"Ear still bothering you, sweetheart?" Dean asked, you instantly pulled your hand away and twiddled your thumbs together. "That's what the healing potion is for, isn't it?"

"No..."

"Y/N-"

"I'm pretty sure the spell would still work, if I could just catch that stupid rooster-" you started to say, but Dean cut you off with a full bodied burst of laughter. He stood up straight and leaned back on his heels, chewing on his lip.

"Hold up a second, are you saying that you conjured up some sort of," Dean chuckled to himself before he continued, "-magical healing cock?"

"Gross, Dean." Sam cringed, shaking his head, his long hair falling in front of his face at the motion.

"Sure, whatever you wanna call it, Dean." You rolled your eyes, trying your damnedest not to laugh and encourage him. "Now, are you gonna help me or what?"

Dean collapsed onto the floor of the war room, panting from exhaustion. He'd spent the past two hours chasing the chicken from room to room with no avail. He had feathers stuck to his green henley and a scratch mark from the chicken's claw on his cheek from when he had cornered and nearly caught it.

Sam had helped for a bit, but quickly gave up when it became clear that his lanky arms and legs made it too easy for the bird to slip through. So, instead he had made a call to Cas, returning only to point and laugh at Dean's antics as he dove over couches and crawled under tables.

"Not so easy, eh?" You sat next to him on your heels, picking the feathers from his shirt.

"It would be a lot easier if you would just let me shoot the damn thing," Dean groaned, his breathing finally evening out.

"I'm not sure the spell will work if you kill it," you shrugged.

"You are by far the worst witch I have ever met." Dean teased.

"Wiccan," you corrected.

"Witch, Wiccan- what's the difference?"

"A lot, I do no harm. But I'm still learning how to get even simple spells right." You explained, pulling him by his hands to sit up.

"This is why we have a 'no witchcraft in the bunker' rule. Especially after what happened last time with the pop rocks and the alligator in the bathtub." Dean laughed. "For future reference, Y/N, it's easier to ask for help sometimes."

"It just hurts so bad, De." You mumbled, biting your bottom lip when it refused to stop quivering, your eyes glazing over with unshed tears.

"Come here," Dean said, pulling you into his lap. His strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist and you rested your head on his shoulder, careful not to lean on your sore ear. "Let's get you into bed, hm."

"But the roost-"

"Shh, we'll deal with it tomorrow. Right now you need some rest. Besides, Sammy said Cas is on his way, it's just gonna take him a couple of hours to get here." Dean said, standing up and pulling you with him.

He turned and crouched slightly and you jumped on his back, wrapping your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck; letting him carry you to bed with a hand on each of your thighs to support your weight.

"De, can you stay with me for a while, just until I fall asleep?" You asked when he dropped you onto your bed.

"Anything you want, Y/N/N." He nodded and you crawled under the covers, sliding over to make space for him.

You curled into his chest, rolling over after a minute so your back was flush against him. You grabbed his hand that rested on your hip, pulling it over yourself so his arm draped over your middle. He didn't make any attempt to move away from you and you sighed at the warmth of his embrace. You felt his lips press to your temple and then you were out like a light.

"How's my girl feeling?" Dean whispered when he saw your eyelids flicker a few hours later. You felt his palm on your cheek as he brushed the hair from your face and you smiled as you forced your eyes open.

"Good- amazing actually," you said in awe, rubbing your no longer sore ear and grinning like an idiot.

"Cas stopped by a while ago and healed you. I would have woken you up first, but I thought it was best to let you rest. He's been hanging out with Sam all night watching some documentary, both understanding none of it and correcting all of it." He laughed, picking up a bowl from your bedside table and sitting on the side of your bed. "Here sit up, sweetheart. I made you some soup."

"Hm," you hummed at the smell coming from the bowl as you pushed yourself up, your back resting against the headboard. "What kind is it?"

"Chicken noodle." He smirked.

_________________________  

A/N: Read the prequel Bubble, Bubble, Bath & Trouble

_________________________   Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @laycblack

#howbadcanitbebingo #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #spn #supernatural #one shot #dean winchester #dean fluff #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean x #spn reader insert #dean one shot #supernatural one shot #supernatural reader insert

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lazysimp · 3 years

Text

Normal Again /// Bakugou x Fem Reader (18+)

✧Click HERE to read Male version ✧

Rating: Explicit

Summary: A sequel to fine. You never expected recovery to be easy but you never thought it would be nearly impossible. In the weeks since your torture things between you and Bakugou had only grown more strained. Will you be able to save your relationship or is it a lost cause?

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings/tags: TW: Self hatred/violence, degradation (not in a sexy way), Angst, Explicit sexual content, Oral sex (giving and receiving), Anal play, She/Her pronouns, All characters are adults, SMUT 18+ Only

masterlist┃AO3

A vicious laugh filled the air as Bakugou’s boot connected with your cheek sending your body flying towards the ground. His deep red eyes were full of glee watching you spit out blood from your busted cheek. He crouched down, looking at you as if you were filth.

“Look at you,” he sneered. “Just lying there taking it all. You are pathetic, honesty how did I ever see you as more than an easy fuck.”

“Stop it Bakugou,” you beg weakly. You could not bring yourself to understand how such cruel words could come from the same mouth that used to worship you.

His boot connects to your head once more sending blinding pain shooting through your skull. “Did you really think you were going to be with me forever? That I would tie myself to someone who can’t even stop themselves from getting kidnapped by a B-ranked villain.”

His boot rests on your face, its thick rubber sole indenting its print into your cheek. “The only reason I kept you around this whole time was that you spread your legs whenever I wanted. You are easy, too easy and the whole office knows it. They all laugh at you, at how much of a whore you are.”

Tears begin to leak from your eyes as he brought to light all your insecurities. You would rather he kept beating you than continue to torture you with his taunts. After every night of the same torture you had grown numb to the physical pain but no matter how hard you tried you could not escape his words.

“If it wasn’t for you I would have already climbed my way to the top. All you can do is hold me back from my dreams with your constant failures. You make me despise you.”

His heel digs into your temple creating an agonizing inescapable pressure. You were helpless to stop his merciless assault and you were not sure you even wanted to. All you really wanted was for all of this to stop. The constant pain and guilt had worn down your spirit, it was as though you had nothing left to even lose.

“Look at you just lying there taking it. Why don’t you fight me you pathetic bitch? Why don’t you ever fight?” He screamed, emphasizing each with a blow to your head. You reach up to cover your ears not wanting to hear anything else but your arms were trapped down at your side, held by some invisible force.

You try again to lift move your arms and then your legs but a warm tight hold tightened even further. Needing to escape the suffocating warmth you thrash around, lashing out at the invisible force.

“Shh, baby it is ok,” Bakugou said above you his boot still on your head. “This is all just a dream.”

You slam your eyes closed needing to escape the glaring red eyes that only brought you pain.

“Mimic is dead and will never hurt you again I promise,” Bakugou’s voice grows closer to your ear. This was your chance! You manage to free one arm and reach up, blindly scratching at any body part you could reach.

Your nails scream for mercy as you drag them viciously down his arm, their gliding made easy by blood. Despite the pain you know you must have caused, the invisible hold only tightened, trapping both of your hands.

“Please baby open your eyes, you are safe I promise.” Bakugou’s voice cooed softly trying to pry you away from your own mind.

You shake your head not trusting the voice, after all, it was the same one that had just been hurting you. With both your hands held still you are left with no choice but to use your teeth. You bite down on one of the arms holding you, sinking your teeth deep into the flesh until a rusty taste fills your mouth.

“Open your eyes my beautiful girl please,” Bakugou’s voice grew clearer, the malice you had been expecting surprisingly absent.

Reluctantly you relax into the warm hold and crack one eye open. A sweet smelling black tank top was the first thing you recognized. You blink your eyes a few times to clean them and get a better look around.

The cold dark room you had been in only moments ago was gone, replaced by a soft bed and warm blankets. The tight suffocating grip that had held you earlier is now a warm embrace.

You look at the strong arms holding you to your fiancé’s chest and wince. Deep red scratch marks littered his muscles and an already bruising bite branded his shoulder. With you no longer resisting he released your hands and started to run his fingers up and down your back. Despite his mask of relaxation, you could tell he was shaken up.

“I did it again didn’t I?” you ask weakly already knowing the answer.

Bakugou let out a sigh, “Yeah, it took me nearly ten minutes to get you back this time.”

Overwhelming guilt filled your mind for the second time tonight. You had hurt the man you loved because of some stupid dreams. It had been months since your rescue and still every night without fail you dreamed about it happening. It was like the torture never stopped.

“It is getting worse,” Bakugou says, continuing to pet down your back.

You nod weakly. He was not wrong. Neither of you had gotten a full night’s rest since the incident. No matter what pills you took without fail you dreamed about Bakugou. Logically you knew it was not Bakugou who had been the one to hurt you. He was your hero and his reward is you flinching from his touch and attacking him in your sleep. None of this was fair.

Bakugou’s lips softly pressed against your forehead as he pulled you in even closer. You ignored the spike of fear being close to him caused and tried to remember this was your Bakugou, not the sick twisted version Mimic created.

“We can’t keep going like this baby,” he says weakly. “I think I need to leave for a little bit.”

Absolute panic grips your heart, “No! Please don’t leave me. I’ll get better I promise. I will find another sleeping pill that one doctor prescribed worked for the first couple of weeks. We can figure this out, please don’t-”

“Shh,” Bakugou pulled you in closer. “Right now I am not good for you.”

You open your mouth to protest but he places his hand finger over our lips. “Baby you flinch every time I look at you.”

You wanted to deny his claim but remember how his eyes felt on your skin and shutter.

“My face, my voice, hell my smell are all triggers for you. I am hurting you by being near you. I am causing you pain by serving as a living reminder of your pain and I can’t do it anymore.”

Hot tears start to fall from your eyes. You hated how everything he is saying is not wrong. He is a walking trigger for the memories of that night and you had no idea how to get over them.

“So this is it,” you say, defeated.

“No, baby god no. You and I just need some time apart until you are ready to see me again. I am planning on staying at Deku’s for a bit, the nerd offered me his spare bedroom.”

Despair was the only thing you could feel. All of this was your fault and he should hate you for it but he doesn’t. Why doesn’t he hate you like you hate yourself? He should be screaming at you for causing all of this. The blame is yours and yours alone. If you had been just a little stronger you would never have been taken in the first place and none of this would have happened.

“Until I can get you to talk to me about how you are feeling I can’t help you. All I am doing is making this worse.” His arms started to loosen their hold around you and for the first time in weeks you wanted them back.

His arms pulled away completely, taking his warmth. “This is not permanent,” he assured. “It is just until you are ready for me to come back and I will wait as long as you need.”

You start to reach out for him, to beg him to get back in bed but the silhouette of him above you sent a chill down your spine. You wanted to rip everything apart, every time you made progress there was something dragging you backward.

You watch helplessly as he quickly dresses and leaves the bedroom, not looking back. You can’t blame him, you want to be free of yourself too. You could hear the front door to the apartment open and quietly shut, the lock clicking into place.

Life moved slower when you did not have your angry gremlin by your side. It had been a few weeks since he left and you had never been more miserable. At first, you had agreed to the separation, after all, he was a giant trigger but you were quickly realizing it was worse without him.

The anxiety of being alone at night had you reaching for your phone nearly every night, wanting to call him. It was a miracle you had managed to resist. With you not there to bother him maybe he would finally be getting some sleep.

The only communication you had gotten from him was a couple of texts letting you know he was still alive. You know he was trying to give you space but the longer he was away the more you wanted to drag him back home.

Your therapist had still not cleared you for fieldwork so the only thing you could to distract yourself was binge a couple of shows and try some cooking. Of course nothing you made tasted half as good as Bakugou’s cooking. By the end of the the first week your life consisted of sleep, tv, and takeout.

Your glazed-over eyes half focus on the tv in front of you as you are lost in your thoughts. You hear a knock on the door and rush over to open it. Could he have changed his mind and come back? For the first time in a long time hope filled your chest but it was quickly shattered as you look through the peephole. Uraraka stood still outside your door holding a few grocery bags.

You try to plaster on a fake smile and open the door. Uraraka did not wait for an invitation and barreled her way into your apartment.

“Hello to you too,” you mumble, closing the door.

She sets the floating bags onto the counter and releases her quirk. “Whew, you would believe the line at the store this morning. All the old ladies were fighting their way into the store for the 20% off sale. Of course none of them could beat me from being first in line.”

You snort, no matter how many brand deals and hero contracts Uraraka had she never stopped being frugal.

“How was your morning?” She asked, unpacking the many goods from the bags.

You shrug, “Same as always, watched some tv and pretend my life isn’t falling apart.”

Uraraka pauses and gives you a look of understanding. “You know he hasn’t forgotten about you, not for one minute.”

You look away, “What does it matter, our relationship is practically over. I have not seen him in weeks and even if I did see him I would make everything worse with my stupid fear.”

“You fear is not stupid, you went through something traumatic and need time to heal.”

You scoff, “I have had time. But every time I make any progress something triggers me and I fall right back down to where I started.”

“That is normal though! It took me weeks to even look at Deku without crying. You are both being too hard on yourselves.”

“I am tired of waiting!” You yell, finally letting your anger out in the open. “I miss him so much it hurts. I miss how he would hold me every night after he helped me bathe because I was too sore to even lift my arms. I miss how he would pack my lunch every day because he could not stand watching me go hungry. I miss my Bakugou.”

Uraraka wraps her arms around your shoulders pulling you in tight against her chest, letting you sob. It was the first time in weeks anyone had touched you. Her soft hands traced up and down your back, trying her best to soothe the pain.

“I miss him so much,” you cry between hiccups.

“So why don’t you call him? I am sure he would be happy to hear your voice.” Uraraka pulls out her phone and starts to dial his number.

“No!” You snatch the phone from her hand and toss it over your shoulder. You wince as you hear the phone connect with the hardwood floor.

The hand on your back stills, “You are going to replace that you know.”

You nod, a worthy expense if it meant you did not have to confront reality just yet. At least with him gone you could pretend your relationship was not over.

“Stop saying that! Your relationship is not over. What the two of you need is a good conversation.”

You must have said the last part out loud. “What does it matter, even if we have a conversation and he moves back in I will end up having nightmares and keep him up for weeks. It is not fair for him to suffer through that for me.”

“Ugh!” Uraraka shoves you off her chest and stands. “Both of you keep pushing each other away based on some convoluted idea that you are actually protecting each other. It makes me want to pull my hair out!

You cross your arms over your chest, “Well I am protecting him.”

She rolls her eyes, “Sure.��

“Hey, don’t make me regret teaching you sarcasm. I’m being serious, my nightmares were getting so bad I started to attack him in my sleep.”

“No offense but Bakugou can handle you with his hands tied behind his back.”

“But he shouldn’t have to! It is not fair for him to have to worry if his fiancé will attack him in his sleep every night.”

“News flash, life is not fair. It was not fair when I watched the love of my life get skewered in front of me. It was not fair when I could not look at him for weeks without crying. And it was not fair when Mimic tortured you. None of this is fair or just, it is all shit we are given and sometimes it is more than we can handle.”

She holds your chin in her hands, “The only thing you are doing wrong is pushing away the person who you need the most.”

“But I hurt him when he is close,” you argue weakly.

Uraraka’s eyes softened, “You hurt him more when you push him away. His quirk is not mind reading, he has no idea how to help you, how you can both help each other.”

You knew she was right, that what you were doing was not working. But you were stuck, unsure how to even start talking to him again. Even so, you had to try.

“Alright, I will try giving him a call-”

Behind you, Uraraka’s phone rang, its piercing ring tone cutting you off. Your heart sinks, that ring tone only went off when a hospital was calling. Without a word, Uraraka bends down and picks up her phone from the floor.

“Hello, this is Uravity speaking,” she said into the phone.

You watch her face for clues and your heart grew even heavier as worry danced in her eyes.

“Are you going to transfer him to the Hero’s hospital in Tokyo?”

Your breathing stops. No, the world could not be so cruel. Your hearing grows fuzzy making it impossible to tune into the rest of Uraraka’s conversation.

“Hey,” someone said in the background. “Hey, I need you to focus. Bakugou is hurt, I am not next of kin so they won’t tell me anything about his condition. I am going to drive us over to the hospital, he should already be there by the time we arrive”

You nod, too stunned to speak. He was hurt. Your Bakugou was hurt and you were just standing around. Ignoring the pain in your chest your mind finally snapped into action.

Wordlessly you and Uraraka rushed down to her car below. The drive to the Hero’s hospital was short, only a few blocks from your apartment. The front entrance was already packed full of reporters trying to catch a glimpse of your injured hero.

You bite your tounge to stop yourself from cursing the reporters out. Those nosy assholes wanted to broadcast Bakugou’s pain to the public for a quick buck. Luckily disappeared from your sight as Uraraka drove past the and into the private parking lot.

Uraraka had not even put the car in park when you shoved open the door and ran to the sliding doors. You could hear her yell to wait behind you but you kept running until you found the front desk.

You skid to a stop in front of a shocked receptionist and slam your palms down on the counter, “Where are they taking Hero Dynamight?” You ask, holding your hero license out so she would know you were not a reporter.

The receptionist winced, “I am sorry but only allowed to disclose information to the family of the patient.”

“Well I am his wife and I am demanding to know where he is.” You retort, not caring about the implications of the claim.

“Dynamight is not married, his paperwork states he is a single but nice try.”

“Listen here you-” your rant was cut short by a soft hand on your shoulder.

“It was a private ceremony, they have still not made it public yet so there is now paperwork. I know that is not protocol but won’t you please let it slide this once ” Uraraka smiles sweetly trying to play cute to get what she wants.

The receptionist shook her head, “ I am sorry but I cannot allow anyone who is not documented family to visit any patient.”

You open your mouth to yell but Uraraka beats you to it.

“That is fine, thank you for doing such a great job protecting our heroes.” She gently grabs your bicep and pulls you away from the desk before you could say another word.

“What are you doing she is our only way of figuring out anything about Bakugou.” You hiss trying to pry yourself free from her hold.

“No she’s not,” Uraraka turns her head to look at you and smiles. “I spent a few weeks coming in and out of this hospital while Deku was recovering. Going through the main entrance is the easiest way but there is a locked side door. With enough force, it can be wiggle open.”

“Won’t it have an alarm?”

“Of course it has an alarm this is a heavily secured building. Luckily they have a well-trained hero there to investigate the disturbance,” she winked.

You laugh, being a hero did have its perks. It only took a few more turns before she found the small door.

“Now when I open this door a blaring alarm will go off and two security guards will come rushing from either end. I will handle the one on this side but you will be on your own for the other. Try not to hurt them too much.”

With that Uraraka wraps her hand around the door handle and pulls, her arm muscles bulging from the effort. You stand still, stunned to watch your friend pry open the solid steel door.

The door finally gives sending out a blaring alarm but you had already made it past the first couple hallways, hiding in a small doorway as a guard runs past. You wait another minute to make sure the coast is clear besides casually walking down the hallway until you found a nurse’s station.

“Excuse me,” you say, trying to sound as polite as possible. “The front desk told me to ask you which room my husband is in.”

The oldest nurse looked you up and down skeptically, “What is your husband’s name?”

“Bakugou Katsuki.”

“Uh-hu sure, wait here a minute for me while I go find his nurse.” She turned and disappeared into the room behind the station.

Fuck, she was onto you. You slowly walk backward away from the door’s line of sight and rush down the hallway looking desperately for Bakugou. He had to be here somewhere but the hospital was a maze of hallways and doors with no names on them.

You could not yell out for him that would only alert security to your position faster. You spin on your heels looking frantically for any sign of him but the more you look, the more lost you become.

“Hey! You cannot be back here,” A security guard yelled, a taser already armed in his hand.

You put your hands into the air, looking to your side for an escape. You could handle one petty security guard but you did not feel like explaining to the commission why you beat a guard. Sucking in a deep breath you run towards the officer who was too shocked to pull the trigger on the taser. Sticking your leg out you kick his feet out from under him sending his back to the floor.

Without looking back you run down the hall taking as many turns as you could to find a hiding spot. One of these rooms had to have no camera in it.

In your frantic looking, one door stood out. It was off to the left in a dead-end hallway. It had to be a good enough hiding spot as any. You sprint to the door and swing the door open into a pitch-black room.

You felt bile rise in your throat at the thought of entering the darkness but you had no choice, security was hot on your heels. You close your eyes and step into the darkness, closing the door behind you.

Your back rests against the door and you listen to the guards run past the hallway. For now they had no idea where you were. You let out a sigh of relief and feel around the wall for a light switch.

Mercifully, you find it and switch it on. The room looked like any other hospital room except for one thing. There was someone in the bed and they were about to look up.

Shit! You duck under one of the tables in time to hide from their view.

“Oi, I thought I told you people to leave me alone! I already took the damn pills and agreed to stay the night.”

Your breathing stops at the deep rough voice of Bakugou. You found him; he is not in a coma fighting for his life. He is in bed resting safely just feet away from you. A sob of relief climbs your throat, and you have to slap your hand over your mouth to mute it.

The rush of blinding fear to find Bakugou suddenly turns into fear about seeing him. What if he did not want you to visit? Fuck you should have thought about this more before you left.

“I can hear your breathing! Don’t make me get out of bed or I will kick your ass.”

Not wanting him to hurt himself by standing you relent and force your weak knees up. You keep your eyes to the floor not daring to look at his face, “Surprise,” you tease weakly.

“W-what?” Bakugou said, his voice high and full of confusion.

“I-I heard you got hurt, no one was telling me anything, so I decided to come and check up on you myself. But I see you are fine so I will leave you alone. I am sorry for barging in.”

“Wait! Don’t leave,” Bakugou winces as he sits up in bed, his abdomen covered in bandages. Instantly you rush to his bedside.

“Don’t move that fast you will hurt yourself!” You lecture, gently pushing him back down to the bed. Bakugou looks down at your hands with shock, you had not touched him caringly since the incident.

You quickly realized your hands were still on him and snatch them back to your side. You stand there awkwardly, unsure what to do. It was like the months of being together had been erased since he had left.

“W-what happened?” You finally ask to break the silence.

Bakugou looks down at his hands, “Some stupid kid ran out in the middle of the fight and almost got themselves killed. I didn’t have enough time to get them out of the way, so I had to shield them instead. Damn villain managed to shoot me.”

“You got shot!”

“Yeah, pathetic asshole knew he could not take me without a gun. Lucky for me he had terrible aim and managed to only graze my side. The only reason I am still in this stupid bed is because Rescue Girl is on vacation and refuses to come in and heal me.”

The heavy weight on your heart lifted slightly knowing he was not seriously hurt but you still worried about his current condition. Bakugou was not one to sit around until he felt better. In the time the two of you had been together he only got sick once and it took tackling him to the ground and tying him up in bed to keep him from working.

You knew him and Deku were on good terms now but dealing with a hurt Bakugou was a full-time job. “How long did the doctor say you have to be off work?”

Bakugou scoffed, “She thinks I have to wait at least a week even with Recovery Girl. As soon as I can escape this bed I will head back to the office I have a villain to hunt down.”

You put your hands on your hips, “Oh no you won’t. If the doctor tells you to wait a week you will wait a week.”

A mischievous grin spreads across Bakugou’s face, “Oh, and how are you going to enforce that?”

Blood rushes to your face making your cheeks feel like they were burning. To keep him from fighting his restraints the last time he was sick you had to fuck him until he was too tired to care he was chained up. By the time he had recovered from being sick you could barely walk and he had to be the one to take care of you.

“Don’t look at me like that when you are hurt.”

“Then answer the question, how do you plan to keep me from working this week.”

“What are you five? Do you really need an incentive to be good?” You taunt.

A wolfish grin spread across his face, “Yes.”

You throw your hands up in the air, “Ugh, you are terrible!”

His hand reaches out and grabs your wrist to pull you in closer to the bed and for a second fear flashes in your eyes. All of the teasing had made you forget your fear but his touch brought is all back.

Bakugou sensed the change in your demeanor and opened his hand to free you from his touch.

“Wait, don’t move your hand,” you suck in a deep breath. “Just give me a second.”

His warm long fingers wrapped themselves back around your wrist, holding still as you try to calm your heart. You were stronger than this fear. You could do this.

“Baby, you don’t have to push yourself, I understand-”

“No!’ You yell, taking a step closer to his bed. “This is ok, I will make this ok again.”

You avoid looking at his face, needing to build up your strength before testing your limits. Being separated from him had helped your memories heal some but it was still difficult to see him.

Forcing the tight fear in your chest down you intertwined your fingers through his and pull them up to your lips, gently kissing his knuckles.

“It is easier when I control where you touch,” you mumble to him, trying to follow Uraraka’s advice.

“What?” Bakugou asked, unsure what you meant.

“When you are the one controlling the touching, it makes me nervous because I don’t know what will happen next. It makes me feel like I have no control and that is when I start to freak out.”

You look down to where your hands were joined, “When I am leading the touch I have some idea of what will happen next and it is easier to not feel scared.”

“So you have to be in charge?”

“I don’t have to always be in charge, I just need to know what you are thinking, what you are doing before you do it or I need to be guiding it.”

Bakugou smiled, “So if I told you to sit on my face would that work?”

A few incoherent words fall out of your mouth as you try to process what he just said.

“Well, maybe, but you are hurt and need your rest. Besides, you should not be thinking about that while you are lying in a hospital bed. When you are discharged, we can try something like that.”

Bakugou sat up straighter, “Oh no you don’t. I have gone without your taste on my tongue for too long. You are going to get that sweet ass over here and sit on my face.”

“No, Bakugou. Look at the state of you. I could seriously hurt you.”

That was the absolute worst thing you could have said, in seconds his teasing eyes filled with fiery determination. The last time he gave you that look was when you rejected going on a date with him. A week later he had your legs wrapped around his waist.

He lifts his finger and points to you and then his face, “Come here.”

You stubbornly shake your head, “This is not happening Bakugou. You could tear your stitches and have to stay in the hospital even longer.”

He shrugs, “Fine with me as long as you are here.”

This damn man must be suicidal. “We need to talk more about our relationship before we dive right into sex.”

“Your mouth will be free and clear to talk.”

“This is an awful idea. What if I get freaked out in the middle of it all?”

“That’s easy, we stop,” he gently pulls you in closer his face now only inches away.

“Please baby I have missed you; I promise I will stop if it gets too much.”

You were conflicted. Neither of you were in a state where you should be fooling around. But the feel of his hand on yours was so calming and warm that you wanted more.

“Alright,” you whisper. “But If you are in any pain you need to let me know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I promise. Now get that pretty ass up here,” he pats his shoulders.

“This is such a bad idea,” you mumble to yourself as you slip off your pants while Bakugou lowered the head of the bed. This could go wrong in so many ways but the longer you thought about his tongue on you the less you cared.

“Fuck baby,” Bakugou groaned, “Climb up, you won’t hurt me.”

You toss your pants to the side and do as he said. Climbing up onto his bed and carefully lowering yourself over his face. Your face was burning at the thought of what all he could see. Needing support, you grab ahold of the headboard. After all you did not want to hurt him. Bakugou was not having that. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you down until you had no choice but to rest your weight on his face.

“Wait, you could hurt yourself,” you protested breathlessly.

He only laughed, his hot breath teasing your aching cunt. He sat still under you for a few minutes letting you get adjusted to the feeling of his touch, and it let him soak in the sight of you above him.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he mumbled against the soft skin of your thighs. Not wanting to move too fast he first places a few sloppy kissing along with your inner thigh, giving you ample time to mentally prepare for his mouth on your cunt.

You try to stop yourself from shaking but it was impossible. It had been months since someone had touched you and to have Bakugou beneath you, ready to worship your body, was almost too much for your brain to process.

Bakugou’s mouth teased your other thigh before settling on your already soaking wet pussy.

“That’s my good girl, already wet for me. This pretty pussy knows who it belongs to, but does its owner?”

“Bakugou stop talking to my pussy and get to work,” you growl.

“Tsk, when did you become so greedy?” The hands on your thighs shift around until they were able to spread open your sex giving him complete access to you.

“You are lucky I miss this just as much as you do or I would tease you for hours. Tie your ass to the bed and not let you leave until neither of us could move.”

You rock your hips trying to egg him on, “Sounds to me like you are all talk.”

The hands on your thighs tighten forcing you to put all your weight onto his face. You try to pull yourself up, not wanting to suffocate your boyfriend but he refuses and goes straight for the kill. His soft wet tongue drags a straight line up the slit of your cunt, gathering up your juices.

Your hands abandon the headboard and thread through his hair. Bakugou groaned, settling into feasting on your cunt. His soft lips slide through your folds, looking for your hidden button.

“Ah please Bakugou,” you beg, “it feels so good.”

You could feel his smile against your skin before his mouth latches onto your throbbing clit, dragging it into his mouth.

While his lips teased your clit, one hand left your thigh to snake around under you. You lurch forward as two thick fingers slip through your folds, wetting themselves in your slick before they gently press at your entrance.

Your hips buck away from the combined sensations fearing to be too much but Bakugou was not having it, he strengthened his hold on your thighs and pushed you down on his fingers. You sob at the feeling of being stretched, it had been so long the burn was more intense than normal.

“Fuck baby you are so tight around my fingers, I can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock,” he groaned.

“Bakugou,” you whined. “You can’t just say things like that.”

He releases your clit with a pop, “Like what? Like how I want to feast on this pussy until you are all I can taste for weeks. Like how by the time I am done with you, you will be a sobbing mess that I will have to take care of. Just listen to this sloppy pussy take my fingers. Fuck baby people would kill for even a sliver of this cunt but too bad for them it is all mine.”

You shove a fist in your mouth to stifle a loud moan. The last thing either of you needed was someone barging in.

Bakugou pulled your aching bud back between his lips and got to work. The two fingers inside you started to pump, curling to hit your sweet spot each time they were inside you. His delicious tongue flicked up and down on your clit driving you mad.

Trusting you would not run away he releases your other thigh and reaches under your shirt. His large hand stroked up your stomach, caressing the skin there before latching onto one of your nipples. He pinches the soft peak between his fingers, rolling it until it pebbles. You arch your back into his hand and start to rock your hips wanting more.

Bakugou moans into your cunt, able to tell you were growing lost in the pleasure. He loved it when you were too engrossed with feeling good to care about anything except him.

Looking down in between your legs you could see his light blonde hair peeking out from the apex of your thighs and had a devilish idea.

“Bakugou stick out your tongue,” you order.

He releases you from his mouth and looks up, his chin soaking with your juices, “What?”

“Stick out your tongue, like this,” You show him with your own mouth.

A spark of recognition flashed in his eyes and he smiled. Good, he liked the idea too. With no delay, his tongue stuck out of his mouth. You reach down and spread yourself open, settling back over Bakugou’s eager tongue. His fingers abandon you in favor of holding onto your ass while you dig your fingers into his hair.

With both of you settled you slowly begin to rock your hips, riding his tongue. You start off slowly, watching closely for any sign Bakugou was not comfortable but judging by his growl of pleasure you would say he is just fine.

A red hot warmth started to grow in the lower half of your body, slowly spreading its tingle to your lower belly. Fuck, the image of Bakugou beneath you, letting your ride his face was almost too much to process.

“Oh god Bakugou,” you moan. “Please, it feels so good.”

He could only groan in response, his mouth too busy bringing you to your peak. When you looked down at him between your legs you could only see his bright lust filled eyes. They were intensely watching you fall apart.

White spots started to grow in your vision and you increase the speed of your thrusts. The fingers in his hair tighten, now holding onto him for dear life. It only took a few more rocks of your hips before the white spots grew into a blinding white light.

Overwhelming waves crashed into you, sending glorious pleasure pulsing through you. Your body was not your own as the electricity ran through you making every muscle grow taunt and release in a never-ending cycle.

Bakugou redoubled his effort, not letting you even finish your first peak before he was building you up to another. The idea that you would feel that pleasure again was enough to make you mad.

His fingers slipped into your clenching entrance and curled forward, teasing your sweet spot. His lips returned to your clit, sucking it gently into his mouth and lashing at the tender bud with his tongue.

You release his hair, afraid you will rip it out, and hold onto the headboard as all the clenching tension finally releases, sending you spiraling. Loud wanton moans ripped from your throat and you could do nothing to stop them.

Bakugou toyed with you until you could no longer hold yourself upright. Only then did he gently lift you off his face and down onto his lap. You slouch over and rest your forehead on his shoulder. The world around you was fuzzy, your mind still reeling from how hard you finished.

“Wait, Bakugou you are not supposed to be lifting anything!” You yell when your mind finally returns to reality.

“Tsk, I already told you I am fine.”

You fought the urge to slap him, “You idiot what if you had busted open your stitches!”

“You did not seem too worried about that when you were rubbing your cunt on my tongue.”

“Well, obviously I was not thinking straight,” you mumble. Damn him for being right.

Bakugou gives you a sly smile, “You know I am feeling a little sore.”

Regret slams into you, “Damn it Bakugou, I was worried this would happen. Where are you hurting.”

His hips thrust upwards forcing his rock-hard cock against your ass. “Right there baby.”

You flick your finger against his forehead, “I was really worried you asshole.”

“But it aches, won’t you make it feel better?”

“You are lucky you are hot,” you whisper into his ear before carefully descending his body. You settle in between his legs, pulling down the blankets to free his cock.

You have to stop and stare at it. Everything about your boyfriend had to be perfect. His cock was long and proud, resting on his stomach with a small tuft of blonde pubic hair at the base. His cock had one large vein running up the length of it, pulsing with each heartbeat. God, you wanted to trace that vein with your tongue.

Reaching up you wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He was so warm on your hand, like your own personal space heater. You shuffle your body to get your mouth a little close to his cock and then before he could say anything bring the head of his cock into your mouth.

His reaction was instant, his hands shot down to grab at the sheets beside your head. You could feel his hips flex under you as he fought the urge to thrust up into your mouth.

Feeling emboldened by his reaction you relaxed the muscles in your jaw and took more of his length into your mouth. His salty flavor spilled across your tongue as he started to release pre-cum. Your poor baby had gone too long without any attention.

Redoubling your effort you bring up your free hand and wet it with your spit. Reaching under your busy mouth you slide your finger down until you find Bakugou’s tight entrance.

“Hey, what do you think you are doing?” Bakugou growls, grabbing your wrist.

You let his cock fall out of your mouth and look up innocently, “I am making you feel good baby, just lay back and relax. I promise this will feel good.”

He looked conflicted but slowly the iron-clad grip on your wrist loosened enough to set you free. Not waiting for him to change his mind you begin to circle his hole with your wet finger. Before you could even try to push your finger forward you needed him to relax. You return to teasing his aching cock with your mouth, sucking on his tip just the way he likes all the while circling your finger around his hole, waiting for him to relax enough for you to slip it in.

As you take another inch of him into your mouth you could feel him relax enough to slip your finger slip past the tight ring of muscle. You could feel Bakugou tense so you did not move the finger forward, giving him time to adjust to the intrusion.

With your tongue on his dick it was easy enough to distract him as you slowly inch your finger in. Once you went in far enough you twist your finger around, looking for a soft spongy spot inside him. A sharp thrust up into your mouth signaled you had found exactly what you were looking for.

“What the fuck,” Bakugou groaned, his hands going to hide his face. You smirk, finally, you were the one driving him insane.

You benign to move your hand and mouth on his cock in time with your finger in his ass. Small pathetic whines were leaving Bakugou’s mouth and you felt like a god. You were so engrossed in bringing him pleasure you had no time to think about anything else.

You could hear his breathing begin to grow more labored and his cock grow even harder in your mouth. “Fuck, baby I am going to-” Was the only warning you had before his cum shot to the back of your throat.

You swallow his release down, making sure to ease your hold on his cock, now only gently pumping your hand and finger to lengthen his orgasm.

Slowly the pulsing of his cock stopped and you released him from your mouth, wiping the spit on your chin off with the back of your hand. You could not help but smile as you watched Bakugou slowly come back into the real world with a beautiful dazed look on his face.

He slid his hand under your chin and lifted your head to meet his eyes, “Where the fuck did you learn that?”

“Being away from you for this long made me desperate so I watched a couple of videos to make it easier.”

“Right,” he said breathlessly, “You need to show me that shit later if it taught you that.”

You laugh, “Gladly. Now lay down you need your rest.”

Bakugou tilts his head, “What the hell do you mean rest? I have not been away from you for too long, I can rest later. Now I am going to get my cock into that tight pussy.”

“Bakugou you just finished.”

“So,” he thrusts his hips up, rubbing his already erect cock against your ass.

“How?” You ask in amazement.

“I have been fantasizing about fucking you for months baby. Did you really think once would be enough to satisfy me?”

Without waiting another minute his hands grab into your hips and lift you up. Lining your entrance up with the tip of his cock. In a flash you involuntarily tense your body, the memories of that night rushing back into your head. No, no, no, not now, not when you were so close to being one with Bakugou again.

His bright red eyes meet yours as he feels you tense. Fuck, why did you always mess everything up, this was all your fault. Why could you not just be normal, that is what he deserved a nice normal happy girl.

“Hey,” Bakugou whispered softly. “Talk to me, what is wrong.”

You wanted to keep your lips shut, to pretend that everything was fine but that would be lying. You never wanted to lie to him.

“I can’t stop thinking about Mimic. One minute I am fine and the next he is all I can see.”

Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, “You were fine with what we did earlier? What triggered it?”

You shake your head, “It is different every time. It is just hard for my mind to differentiate from my Bakugou and the one Mimic made.”

“So call me Katsuki.”

“Huh?”

“If you are having a hard time with there being two Bakugou’s, then try calling me Katsuki. That way there is at least one easy way to tell me apart from him.”

“You want me to call you by your first name?”

His eyes softened, “Yeah baby, I want you to call me by my first name.”

“Katsuki,” You test his name out, loving how it feels on your tongue. You watch his face to see his reaction and see lust fill his gaze. Oh he liked it.

You start to whisper his name over and over again, like a prayer to remind yourself you were no longer under Mimics thumb. You were with the man who would kill anything that tried to hurt you.

“If you keep saying my name like that baby I am going to fuck you,” Katsuki growled into your ear.

Oh would he now? You wiggle your hips, teasing the head of your cock with your dripping slit. Pulling him in close you whisper one little word, “Katsuki.”

“You asked for it,” He laughed, hauling your hips back up until they hovered over his cock.

The hands on your hips gripped down with bruising force and his cock slipped into your entrance. All the play from earlier had left you more than prepared enough to take his length. The familiar burn started as his cock sank deeper inside you, opening you wide for him.

“By the time I am finished with you, this tight cunt is going to be fucking dripping in my cum. I am going to fill you to the fucking brim.”

A low groan was your only response he bottomed out inside you, his cock leaving no space unfilled. You could damn near feel him in the back of your throat. Normally he would be the one to initiate thrusting but you were growing too impatient.

Bracing your hands on his chest, careful to avoid his bandages, you lift your hips up until only the tip of his cock was inside. Then you slam your hip down, marveling at the feel of him entering you again.

His cock was perfect for hitting all the sweet spots inside you. Not wanting to be left out Katsuki grab ahold of your ass and uses his own strength to strengthen each thrust.

You look down to where you both were joined and almost came on the spot. The sight of his cock pistoning into you was mind-shattering. He looked like a god beneath you. His large muscles building with effort, the thick veins in his arms standing elevated.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his bright red eyes filled with determination. “Right now you are mine, that means the only thing you are allowed to think about is me. About how good my cock feels splitting you open. Is that clear?”

You weakly nod your head, too overwhelmed to speak. A soft smile spreads across his face, “That is my baby, so good for me.”

His praise felt like a caress on your skin. You needed to distract yourself or this would end too soon. You lean forward and press your lips onto his. His tongue glided along the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. You happily opened your mouth allowing his tongue to slip inside. The taste of his spit was mixed with your own flavor, and you still had some of his taste on your tongue. The combined flavor was so fucking lewd and hot.

The familiar tingled started to grow in your pussy, you were not going to last long. The muscles in your legs begin to tremble making your thrusts grow sloppy. Katsuki was not having it. His hips rose to meet yours, forcing your body to endure even more pleasure all the while he toyed with your mouth.

It all became too much, the different sensations all worked together to drive you up, higher and higher you were climbing until it was hard to even breathe. Then, just like that, all the pressure released sending you spiraling.

Your pussy clamped down on his cock, forcing Katsuki to erupt. The thought of him filling you only lengthened the brutal pleasure filling your mind. There was no room in your mind for anything but him. You had no care in the world but him just like he ordered.

As the pulses of pleasure slowed you were able to finally catch your breath. You both laid still in each others arms for a few minutes, letting you come slowly back to earth. Of all the times the two of you fucked this definitely had to be in the top three. Though they did say that makeup sex was the best.

“How are you feeling?” Katsuki asked, his voice rough.

You rest your ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, “I feel good.”

He places a soft kiss on your forehead, “Do you think you are ready for me to come home?”

You take the time to think about it. Having him back in your life did not set off fear like it used to. Instead, it made you feel warm inside. You looked forward to going to bed with him instead of dreading it.

“Yeah,” you smile. “Yeah, I am.”

The arms around your waist tighten pulling you impossibly closer to his chest. You snuggle in closer, getting comfortable. Katsuki would never admit it but lying here with you in his arms safe and happy was one of the happiest moments in his life.

Neither of you was healed from what had happened but you refused to push him away again. You will get past what happened and you will do it with him by your side.

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

An Ocean Away - Harry Styles

Sequel to Tastes Like Strawberries 🍓 !

a/n: ahhh! thank you so much for the love you showed TLS! i already had more planned for the story, but all your comments motivated me to do this part 2! it’s an emotional one so brace yourselves! further in the chapter i placed the song that inspired the title and i listened to it while writing so i suggest you do the same!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 12.7k

masterlist

You walk down the familiar hallway texting back Eden that you are not spending the night at home again.

Eden: You really need to tell me about the dick that keeps you so busy these days.

Y/N: I never said a thing about any dick.

Eden: Oh please, you surely got yourself a rebound after Harry, you can’t tell me otherwise.

Y/N: Don’t you get a rebound when you broke up with someone? I was never together with Harry, so it doesn’t make sense.

Eden: You had a thing!! Okay, whatever. Keep your little secrets, I guess it’s fine…

Y/N: Love you!

Chuckling to yourself you put the phone away and stop at the door you know all too well, knocking two times before you open it and poke your head inside.

Harry is sitting at his desk, his reading glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose as he is vigorously scribbling something down into his notebook. He lifts his head at your arrival and you shut the door closed behind you.

“Hello, professor,” you smile at him teasingly, walking around his desk as he pushes himself back a little so you can sit on his lap, pecking his lips gently.

“Hey, done for the day?” he asks, his fingers tenderly stroking your thighs over the fabric of your jeans.

“Yeah. We can leave if you’re done,” you nod.

“Just a few more minutes, alright?”

“Sure,” you nod, standing up from his lap so he can finish his work while you sit on the little loveseat he has in the corner, right under the window.

It’s been six weeks since New Year’s Eve, the new semester has officially started, you’re working your way towards your degree as this is officially your last semester, but what’s more important that you and Harry have been a couple for six weeks following the heated actions of New Year’s Eve.

Harry is still quite anxious about the whole thing, always on high alert and he even asked you to lie to Eden and Nat too. You tried to fight him on that, but you could tell how much he wanted to protect what you had so you decided to feed them this elaborate story about how you and Harry had a fight on New Year’s Eve and realized that it would have never worked out so you agreed to stay just friends. It seems like they believed, because they’ve been keen on trying to set you up with someone while you just keep dodging their attempts, sneaking around with Harry behind their back.

Other than the continuous lying and sneaking around, things have been going well with him. You’ve been spending a lot of time at his place, the only hiding spot where you can be carefree around each other without always watching out for others around you.

Today is Valentine’s day and though your opportunities to celebrate are very slim, having anything that’s slightly public crossed out of the list, that still doesn’t stop the two of you from having a good night in.

You watch him curiously as he is reading the lines of someone’s essay probably, or some test, whatever. Holding the pen ready to use whenever he finds something incorrect, he furrows his eyebrows at something before crossing out a line, mouthing the words he writes to the side of the page. He doesn’t wear his glasses that often, but he’s been complaining about having dry eyes these past days so it’s no surprised he switched to them from his contact lenses.

“You look sexy in your glasses, have I told you that?”

He glances at you, a small smirk tugging on his lips before he returns to the paper in front of him.

“Think they make me look older,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Nah, not more at least than your grandpa sweaters,” you tease him, earning a ‘Really? This again?’ look from him that makes you chuckle.

You busy yourself while Harry finishes his work and then you head out together, strictly keeping the distance between each other. Walking out of the building Harry heads to the left where the car park is while you take a turn to the right. It’s been your usual, since you can’t have anyone see you get into Harry’s car so casually, so you usually walk down to the small café near Building D, because there’s a very narrow little street running behind it where you can get into the car without anyone noticing you. You do the same now too before finally heading back to Harry’s place. Sinking into the comfortable seat, you stare out the window, thinking about how it’s just been six weeks since New Year’s Eve, but it feels like you’ve been together with Harry for months. Despite his many doubts and hesitant act, it was easy to fall into a kind of routine with him, and even more easier to get used to the thought that he is yours and you are his.

During these six weeks you’ve learned quite a few things about him, things women on campus would die to know and they were handed over to you on a silver plate by Harry himself.

One, he is a very touchy person, of course, when he has the chance for it. In the safety of his home or when you have a few minutes for yourselves in his office, he always likes to have his hand on your back or waist, he loves touching your hips or cheeks, caressing the skin wherever it shows from under your clothes. He is also very cuddly, likes to wrap you in his arms when you’re watching TV and when it’s time to sleep the first thing he does is to pull you into his embrace. You usually wake up in the morning with him completely wrapped around you, limbs thrown over you, face buried into your chest or stomach. He is a messy sleeper, but also a fucking adorable one.

Two, he is a good cook but not that good at baking. He says it’s the universe’s sign that he shouldn’t eat as much sweet stuff as he does, but in reality he just sucks at measuring the ingredients. He never follows the recipe, easily goes with things his own way and then he is surprised when it doesn’t turn out as it should.

Three, he notices the smallest things you’d never. Like how you hate it when the Sun is shining right into your face so he always makes sure to draw the blinds in the evening, or that you prefer sleeping with more pillows so he just simply gives you an extra without even asking every time you’re spending the night. He cares so much about you to the smallest details, it always makes your heart flutter.

And four, though he keeps a tough act in school, he is a lovesick puppy when no one is around, likes to be the small spoon when cuddling, absolutely adores it when you cup his face in your palms and kiss it all over. Loves it when you play with his hair or when you hug him from behind, kissing between his shoulder blades. He always tells you how pretty you are and never misses a chance to sneak a kiss from you. You couldn’t imagine him do any of these before you really knew him, but now you see that all these little things are just as much parts of him like the version of him he shows at school. You feel lucky to be able to see him like this and you’ll probably never get bored of it.

Arriving to his place you drop your bag off at the bedroom before you join him in the kitchen, already eyeing the flyer to the nearby Italian place that delivers.

“How about pizza?” he hums, eyebrows knitted together as he scans the menu.

“Sounds good. Can we order dessert too?” Walking past him you kiss his shoulder before grabbing a glass for yourself, filling it with tap water.

“Oh, no need,” he shyly answers, glancing at you. “We… have dessert.”

You watch him with curious eyes as he disappears in his little study before emerging with a plate filled with pink cupcakes. They look wobbly, the cream on top is not the same on either of them, but because you know he made them, they are the most perfect you’ve ever seen.

He places the plate to the counter with a shy smile before turning to you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs, hands finding your hips as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“Oh baby, did you stay up last night to make these?” you ask, touched that he took the time and energy to surprise you with something. Harry nods and you kiss his dimples softly.

“Mm, they are strawberry flavored,” he smirks boyishly.

“We are never escaping strawberries,” you chuckle softly as you dip your fingertip into the cream on top of one of the cakes, tasting it. “Hmm, this is actually good,” you tell him.

“Yeah, the cream is kind of okay, dunno about the rest though,” he admits chuckling.

“As long as it’s not poisonous, I’ll love it,” you giggle kissing his lips again softly. “Alright, but I can’t go over the fact that we agreed on no gifts for Valentine’s Day,” you say giving him a look.

“S’not a gift, just… a little gesture,” he shrugs innocently.

“Okay, then you can’t get mad over my little gesture,” you smirk at him, peeling his arms off you before you run into his bedroom to get his gift.

You really weren’t planning to give him anything, but you had a good idea last minute and couldn’t just not do it. Digging into your bag you pull out the little box and join him in the kitchen again, handing it to him.

“It’s not fair if you spent money on it,” he pouts, but you just roll your eyes.

“You spent money on the cupcakes too. But besides, I didn’t spent a penny on it. Open it!” You urge him.

Harry huffs but takes the lid off, revealing a stack of Polaroid photos. In this not too ideal situation the two of you are living in, there’s no chance you can ever post anything about him, even though there are quite a few cute photos of you with Harry. Eden recently bought a Polaroid printer and you borrowed it to print your favorite pictures of the two of you. There’s one from the morning after New Year’s Eve, just a silly selfie you took in bed, then one with the band from Harry’s birthday recently, a photo of the two of you backstage of one of his gigs you took in the mirror, he has his guitar in his hands as you stand next to him smiling widely. There are a few more with Sarah, Mitch, Charlotte and Adam and at the very end of the stack… some special ones.

You watch him go through them smiling warmly until he reaches the last few and freezes. You took the courage to take a few spicy ones of yourself in your favorite lingerie and thought it would be sexy to print them out as well and give them to him.

“I hope you’re not thinking about selling them already,” you chuckle. Harry glances up at you before shaking his head with a playful smirk.

“Was just a little surprised by them,” he admits.

“Do you… like them?”

“Oh baby, I love them, you look… wow,” he breathes out going over the pictures one more time. “But I’m gonna have to lock these away so no one finds them. Adam likes to go over my stuff when he is over, I definitely don’t want him to find them.”

“You better keep them safe because if anyone sees them I’m burying myself,” you snort.

Harry puts the stack of photos back into the box before leaning down he cups your face and kisses you gently.

“Thank you, love the pictures. All of them,” he adds cheekily and you feel yourself blushing.

He leans in to kiss you again, putting the box aside to the counter and this time it’s not just one short kiss, he carries it on, taking his time with your lips, savoring and tasting you without a worry in the world. It grows more and more passionate, tongues clashing and you tug at his hair, lacing your fingers through his locks, a moan escaping his pink lips.

You start inching backwards until your backside meets the edge of the counter. Harry doesn’t hesitate to pull your sweater off of you, throwing it behind before his lips are pressed against yours again. It doesn’t take long for his shirt and pants and your jeans to end up on the floor somewhere behind him, leaving you both in just your underwear. You kiss down his neck and collarbones, your lips gliding across his tattooed chest as you slowly slide down to your knees, hands moving over his growing bulge.

Hooking your fingers into the elastic of his boxers, you tug them down and pull his erection out, already so hard for you and you barely even touched him.

“What does my Valentine deserve for making me cupcakes?” you hum, teasingly pumping him a few times with your hands. Harry whimpers under your touch, but doesn’t answer so you stop your hands and look up at him. “Talk to me, what do you want?”

“Your mouth,” he breathes out, his eyes meeting yours, filled with lust and hunger only for you. Smirking to yourself you lick his length up before gently kissing the head, swirling your tongue around the tip before you slowly take him into your mouth.

“Oh fuck, baby!” he pants when you start bobbing your head, pumping the base in sync with your head’s movements.

His hand comes to the back of your head, fingers lacing through your hair. He doesn’t force you, he never does, just likes to hold onto you. You try to take him deeper and deeper with each movement until you fit his whole cock into your mouth, keeping it there for a few seconds before pulling away and letting him go.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles, helping you up from the floor, kissing your lips hard as he is already pulling your panties down your legs. “How do you want it?”

“From behind,” you tell without hesitation, turning around so you can lean onto the counter and push your ass up for him.

You feel one of his hands stroke down your spine while the other one reaches between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, drawing gentle circles on it at first before he goes a little harder, making you moan his name.

“Harry, please!” you beg, the need to feel him growing with each passing second.

He pulls his hand back, grabbing his hard cock as he lines himself up with you, one hand on his shaft, the other one holding your hip firmly to keep you in place. First he pushes just the tip inside and when he is sure you’re ready to take more, he slides all of him inside, filling you up perfectly.

“Shit, you feel so fucking good. Always so good,” he breathes out, both his hands coming to grip your waist as his hips meet your ass from behind.

He starts moving, going a little soft at the beginning before he gets rougher, his hips smacking against your ass with each thrust. You arch your back and push your ass up so you’re angled just perfectly for him, he runs a hand up your back, sliding it under the clasp of your bra and he leaves it there while fucking you from behind oh so well.

“Harry, oh my God!” you groan when he starts hitting that one spot that makes you go crazy.

“Feeling good, baby?”

“Fuck! So good!” you gasp, feeling the pleasure building up with each thrust. “Go harder!” you beg and once he has both hands on your hips again he does as you asked, railing into you hard, making you keep gasping for air.

“Getting close? Tell me when you’re about to cum, baby.”

“I’m close, please don’t stop!” you pant, hands holding onto the counter’s edge for dear life.

He reaches around you, a hand coming between your legs as his fingers find your clit again, adding to the sensation as he starts playing with it just the way you like it.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum! Harry!” you moan uncontrollably and he growls deeply from his chest.

“Cum with me, baby. Give it to me,” he breathes out sharply and he just keeps railing you hard, fingers working on your clit until he feels your walls clench around his dick. “Oh fuck, yes, baby! Cum on my cock!” he gasps and at the same time as you go through your orgasm, you feel him twitch inside you, coming hard with you at the same time. “Jesus fuck! I love you, Y/N!”

You gasp at his words, eyes snapping open in the middle of your orgasm and all air pushes out of your lungs for a moment.

He whimpers and moans, thrusting into you a few more times before he comes to a halt, both of you panting like crazy, coming off your high. When he slowly slides his softening cock out of you, you turn around and look into his eyes. For a moment you thought he just said it in the heat of the moment and he didn’t even realize it, but when your eyes meet his, you can tell he is a little afraid of what your reaction is going to be.

“Did you mean that?” you quietly ask as he tucks his dick back into his boxers, pulling them up, but you don’t bother to put your underwear back on, standing there in only your bra.

“I-I did. I didn’t mean to say it now, but I did mean it,” he nods. “Is it… too soon?”

“No,” you smile at him, stepping closer so you can cup his face in your palms, kissing his lips softly. “I love you too.”

“You do?” he asks, surprised at your reaction.

“Of course, silly. I wouldn’t give my nudes to someone I don’t,” you joke making him chuckle, his arms coming to curl around your waist.

“Sorry, this wasn’t too… romantic,” he breathes out and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“You said you love me while fucking me on Valentine’s Day after exchanging cute gifts. I think it’s romantic,” you chuckle, finally making him smile. “Besides, I don’t care about the setting, just feels nice to hear you say it.”

“Yeah?” “Mhm, care to say it again so I can see your eyes as well?”

“I love you,” he softly murmurs, his forehead resting against yours.

“Yeah, feels better when I can actually look at you,” you chuckle kissing him softly. “I love you too.”

It’s definitely not just fun and games, being in a secret relationship that no one can know about. It surely adds a lot of tension into the situation, having to be so careful all the time and be reserved to the point where you can’t even be seen too often together.

As the semester carries on you always keep your ears open if there’s anything going on about you and Harry. Though you only limit your time together on campus to the bare minimum, only talking on rare occasions, you still want to make sure no one is getting the wrong (or right) idea about what is going on between the two of you.

The worst part is probably having to lie to Eden and Nat all the time. You spend about three nights at Harry’s every week and you have to lie every time you leave. After a while you tell them that you’re dating this new guy but he wants to keep it low-key because he recently broke up with his previous girlfriend. That gives them enough peace not to nag you all the time but you can tell they really want to meet this new man in your life.

You’ve tried to discuss it with Harry, tell him that they won’t tell anyone but it ended in a fight and you kind of gave up. Harry is way too keen on keeping it a secret and it’s clear he is not gonna make any exceptions. At least it’s the same with his friends, the two of you act like just friends when you’re out with the band though you have a suspicion that Sarah can see through the act. However she chooses not to talk about it so it’s kept hidden.

You don’t fight much with Harry, but when you do, it’s major. You both can get really into the argument and it easily gets way too heated, turning into a screaming match until you both realize you should just talk it out and have a little more understanding for each other. The makeup sex after a fight however… that’s something that makes up for every nasty thing that’s said in the heat of the moment.

Nearing the end of the semester you both start to grow more stressed, you about finishing your last classes, your thesis and studying for your finals, Harry about the growing pile of essays and tests waiting to be graded. A lot of the time when you’re at his place you both are busy with your own stuff and only have the chance to actually be with each other when you go to bed. It takes a toll on the both of you, but you’re determined to make it work. Despite the unfortunate nature of how you are forced to maintain your relationship, it’s the healthiest one you’ve ever head and you definitely won’t give up on it too easily.

Though you, Nat and Eden turn in your thesis works mid-April, the semester is still not done for the three of you, the final exams are threateningly close at this point. Spring has officially kicked in, the weather is mostly clear and sunny, allows you to stay outside again and you take advantage of it.

One particular afternoon the three of you are lounging under the pergola, all three of you buried in a book or your notes when you spot Harry walking towards the building. You keep your eyes on him as he slowly approaches you, his gaze meets yours and he smiles at you shortly. It’s all you can get out in the public, but it’s more than nothing.

“Isn’t it hard to see him?” Eden asks and glancing her way you see that she is looking at Harry who is now busy with his phone.

“Why would it be?”

“I don’t know, you clearly had a thing for him and it wasn’t even just a one-sided flirting like every other women had with him. I couldn’t be around him if it happened to me.”

“It’s not like anything major happened. It was all bad timing and the situation wasn’t good. It’s better this way,” you tell her, trying to sound convincing while the guilt is eating you on the inside. All these lies are clouding over your head and you have a feeling they will come down on you pouring one day.

“Still crazy that you are friends with his friends though,” Nat chimes in, squinting her eyes in the sunshine.

“Yeah, you are literally the only person on campus who gets to see him in his private life,” Eden nods. If only they knew how much you see him privately!

“It’s not that crazy,” you shrug, turning back to your book.

You all get back to work, forgetting about Harry, or at least Nat and Eden does, because you get a text from him shortly after he disappeared in the building.

Harry: You look very pretty today :)

Y/N: Flirting with me on campus, professor?

Harry: Can’t help it.

Y/N: You look handsome too, it’s a shame I can’t kiss you stupid!

Harry: Patience!

“Y/N? Did you hear what I said?” Nat grabs your attention from the phone and you realize she was talking to you.

“What? Uh, sorry.”

“I said that we should go out this weekend. It’s been ages since we last did anything other than studying.”

“I’m not sure…”

“Don’t come with your usual, rambling about how we shouldn’t have any fun before we finish,” Eden rolls her eyes.

“That’s not what I say. I just think that we have priorities.”

“I don’t know about you, but it’s a priority for me to have fun, so I’m down for a night out.

“I think I’m passing,” you mumble. You already made plans for the weekend with Harry, take a hike up the hills since the weather has been nice and it would be great to spend time together outside the house. The hiking routes are far away enough from town that uni students don’t like to take the hustle to drive all the way out so you’ll be fine being together outside.

“If you want to say that you have something planned with your mystery man, don’t even bother. If it’s not his birthday, we are overruling him,” Eden scoffs and you roll your eyes at her.

“Just go without me.”

“That’s not the same!” Nat whines. “Come on, Y/N. For once choose us!”

“That’s rude I choose you guys a lot of times!”

“Not since you’ve been spending half your life with some man and the other half in the library.”

“Yeah, we feel abandoned!” Nat pouts at you, trying to make you feel bad and in all honesty, she is succeeding.

“We can doll ourselves up, have fancy cocktails and all that, it’s gonna be fun! Come on, just one night! I can’t take another Saturday sitting in my room, reading my notes,” Eden growls and you sigh in defeat.

“Alright, I guess I’m in,” you mumble and your friends start cheering as if you just declared that men and women are going to get paid equally from now on.

You can tell Harry is bummed that you have to cancel your weekend plans, but he is also trying to be understanding.

“I couldn’t bring up a relevant argument so they made me say yes,” you growl when later that day you’re cuddling on his couch after dinner.

“S’fine,” he sighs, leaning down he pecks your lips shortly.

“Wish I could just tell them that I had plans with you,” you breathe out.

“Y/N…” “I know!” you roll your eyes. “It’s just that it would be nice if I could at least tell them the truth.”

“We already talked about this,” he sighs.

“I know, but that doesn’t change the fact that it bothers me,” you point out. “Am I not allowed to feel that way?”

“You are, I just don’t get why you keep bringing it up when there’s literally nothing I can do about it,” he retorts.

“Well there is, you just choose not to.” And with that, you officially pick another fight with him.

It’s not that you enjoy fighting with him, not at all, but the situation is so not ideal and you find his overprotectiveness a little too much at times. You don’t understand why you can’t share it with your two closest friends. You could at least tell Sarah or the other guys, have anyone know about the two of you, but literally no one on Earth knows that you are a couple and it’s bugging you way more than it probably should.

“Why are you so damn keen on making others know about us? What does that have to do with anything?” he growls throwing his hands into the air, standing in the opposite end of the room as you keep pacing the floor, the urge to keep on moving taking over you.

“Because—“ you snap, but stop yourself. You know if you say it out loud, he’ll think you’re stupid.

“Because what?!”

“Because i-it makes me feel like we are not even real! I can’t talk about us, I can’t touch you outside of this house, no one knows we are a thing and it’s so fucking nerve-wrecking, Harry!” you break down, feeling your throat closing up. You didn’t mean to get emotional over this, but you’ve been bottling it up for a while now.

Harry’s shoulder fall forward as he sees the change in you, the heat of the fight long forgotten. He crosses the room, hands reaching up to cup your face in his palms, his thumbs running across the soft skin under your eyes as he wipes the tears away.

“Baby, I know. You think I don’t want to show you off? I want to hold your hand and just take a walk with you, kiss you whenever I want to, show all the horny fratboys on campus that you’re taken. I know it’s hard, but we really don’t have a choice until the end of the semester.”

He gently kisses the tip of your nose before pulling you to his chest, your arms circle around his waist as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, trying to stop your sobs.

“I’m sorry. I really wish it was all different,” he murmurs, kissing into your hair softly.

“No, I’m sorry for bitching about this all the time. I knew what we were getting into,” you exhale sharply. “It just… really sucks.”

“It does. But we just have to be patient.”

You manage to put the fight behind and move on in peace, but a tiny thought remains buzzing in the very back of your mind. What happens when you finish school? Will it all be different? Harry will still be a professor and if people see you around together, they will know you were one of his students. What’s gonna be the difference? If he is so on edge now, something is telling you he won’t be changing dramatically and it concerns you. A lot.

Not willingly, but you go out with Nat and Eden on Saturday. You go to a place that’s quite popular between students, you can most likely always find familiar faces from lecture halls and classes. It’s close to campus and more on the cheap side, the perfect spot for uni students for a night of fun.

As expected, you run into some people from school and they invite the three of you to sit with them at their table which comes in handy, because there’s no empty place by the time you arrive.

One drink follows the other and you easily get tipsy especially because you skipped on dinner before heading out. Though you weren’t in the mood for tonight, you find yourself enjoying the conversation and the company. It really has been long since the last time you went out with the girls and it’s nice to spend some time with them without the books and notes.

A debate starts about whose course one of the boys, Jace should take next semester.

“Professor Peltz is fucking boring, dude,” Nat growls, taking a sip from her drink. “Had him last semester, I could barely stay awake during his lectures.”

“Yeah, but they say he gives good grades easily,” Jace argues.

“Okay, but who else can you choose from again?” Lydia, a girl who lived a few doors down from you when you lived in a dormitory your first year.

“Um, Professor Makley and Professor Styles.”

You freeze at the mention of Harry, especially upon hearing Lydia’s reaction.

“Jace, choose Professor Styles! He is so fucking hot!”

“Not that it matters to me, Lyd,” Jace chuckles.

“Oh come on, I know even guys think he is hot.”

You feel like an intruder in the conversation, keeping quiet as you listen to her rave about how hot she finds Harry. It’s like you are eavesdropping on something that wasn’t meant for your ears, but it’s just the guilt bubbling inside you once again, because you know you won’t be able to say a word without having to lie.

“She has a point,” another guy, Garrett chimes into the conversation. “The man is handsome and I’m not even ashamed to admit it.”

“See?” Lydia chuckles. “He is sexy and smart, the whole package. I’ve been daydreaming about him since first year.”

You catch Eden’s look, but you just busy yourself with gulping from your vodka cranberry, feeling uncomfortable in the situation but not even for the reason she thinks. Eden must think it’s weird because you had an actual thing with Harry, but the truth is… that thing is still very much ongoing.

“I would let that man do whatever he wants with me,” Lydia adds sighing longingly, and you are having a hard time to hold your tongue. Unfortunately, you don’t succeed.

“Not sure he wants anything to do with you,” you mumble into your drink and though you hoped your comment would stay unnoticed, but you are out of luck.

“You don’t know that for sure,” Lydia slyly replies, a bit too full of herself for your liking. Yes, she is pretty and definitely doesn’t have problem with guys, but she is a little too confident about Harry if you’re being honest.

“I’m sorry?” you ask with a soft, bit annoyed chuckle.

“I’m just saying that we’ll never know who he finds attractive, because we all know he keeps himself so far from his students.”

“Yeah, maybe because he is not interested in any of his students,” you point out.

“As if he would ever make a move on any of us,” she snorts and you are losing your temper. You shouldn’t have had so much to drink, because now you really can’t hold your tongue.

“You can never know, Lydia. You can’t know if he acts the way he does because he is just trying to be professional or because he is, and consider this, not interested in you. Maybe he would actually act up on his feelings but you’re just not his type.”

Your comment is more like just a harsh comeback to Lydia’s words, but Nat and Eden kind of catch on that something is up with you. Ignoring their questioning looks you chug down your drink and soon excuse yourself to get some fresh air. No surprise that they follow you like puppies.

“Girl, what was that inside?” Nat asks as the three of you stand near the entrance of the bar, a few smoking guests littering the area.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you mumble, clearly avoiding to look at any of them, wrapping your arms around your upper body as if you were trying to keep your shit together physically.

“You snapped at Lydia for saying Professor Styles might have a thing for her,” Eden points out, but you just bite the inside of your cheeks.

“Because it was bullshit.”

“Why does that matter to you? Not that you’re together with him or something,” Nat argues and you roll your lips into your mouth, trying to keep a straight face but they know you way better than that. They gasp at the same time, Eden grabbing your forearm forcefully that makes you scowl.

“Hey! That hurts!” you whine, but she couldn’t care less.

“Are you fucking around with Professor Styles?” Nat whisper yells at you, eyes wider than ever.

“I mean… we’re not fucking around,” you mumble, looking down at your shoes as you kick the dirt around. “We’re kinda serious.”

“Holy fucking shit!” Eden snaps, drawing some attention at her and you let out an awkward chuckle at the glances the three of you get. “Are you fucking joking right now?”

“No, I am… not,” you admit, feeling a little relieved that you finally said it, but you also feel like you let Harry down with it.

“How long?” Nat questions in shock.

“Since New Year’s Eve. So… almost four months.”

“So he is the one you’ve been seeing all this time? The guy you didn’t want to talk about?”

“Um, yeah. It’s not that I didn’t want to talk about him, we just agreed that it’s safer if no one knows.”

“I’m speechless, Y/N,” Eden shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t fucking believe you kept it from us for this long!”

“I know, I felt so shitty, but it’s such a complicated situation, it’s so risky, we don’t want it to ruin us.”

“Obviously,” Nat nods understandingly. “And now I see why you snapped so harshly at Lydia.”

“I just couldn’t stand her talking like that. You guys have no idea how hard it is to keep every fucking thought to myself.”

“Why do I have a feeling it has a little more to it than to just Lydia drooling over Harry?” Nat arches an eyebrow at you, folding her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, you’ve been oddly tensed lately,” Eden agrees.

“It’s just pretty stressful to have a secret relationship, it causes a lot of tension. And I’ve been… I’m not sure anything is going to change after I graduate, if I’m being honest.”

“What do you mean?” Nat asks.

“I just…” you sigh, all your thoughts you kept to yourself flooding back to you at once, overwhelming you in a situation that’s already a bit too much to handle. “We keep saying that it’s gonna change when I graduate, but I don’t see it. He is so overprotective and even if I graduate, people will find out that I was once his student. And it might not be against the rules anymore, but we’ll be judged. I didn’t think it through before, but it’s now starting to be more and more clear for me and I just… don’t know if we can make it work.”

You feel the tears forming in your eyes, you’ve been keeping this to yourself for way too long now and saying it out loud just broke the dam. When Nat and Eden sees your lips trembling and the watery eyes you’re trying to blink away, they don’t hesitate to pull you into a tight hug.

“Aw, don’t cry! It makes me want to cry too!” Nat chuckles softly as they sandwich you between them.

“It just sucks so much, because I love him, but I feel like we met at the wrong time and place,” you sob, letting them crush you.

“It happens, baby. It happens. You’ll figure it out!” Eden kisses your forehead before they let go of you. “Want to go home?”

“It’s still early, don’t want to kill the party. I think I’ll just… head over to Harry’s for now. Is that okay?”

“Of course, do whatever makes you feel better,” Nat assures you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry I was such a party pooper.”

You call yourself an Uber and text Harry that you are going over. Twenty minutes later you are walking up the stairs to his house and he opens the front door before you could even reach for the doorknob.

“Hey, baby,” he breathes out softly and you don’t say a word, just wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “Hey, what happened? Didn’t have a good time with your friends?” He delicately caresses your hair, walking the two of you inside so he can close the door before wrapping both his arms around you, holding you close to his chest.

“Don’t really want to talk about it,” you mumble and it’s the truth. You’re tired of these thoughts though you know you should talk to him about how you’ve been feeling about the two of you lately. Part of you is hoping something will just magically solve the whole situation and you won’t have to deal with it yourself.

Harry makes you a tea while you take a shower and once you are both in bed, you cuddle to his side while he reads some. You are just genuinely enjoying his closeness, because despite everything that’s been haunting you in connection with Harry, you really love this man. Like no one else before and the possibility of the two of you not making it long term scares you more than it probably should.

The next few weeks come and go in a sense of numbness. Following your emotional breakdown in front of the bar, you kind of push the whole thing to the back of your mind once again, putting all your focus on finishing school. Neither you nor Harry has the energy to put up more fights though you both can feel there’s a lot to talk about, but the end of the semester is just keeping you both way too busy to acknowledge the problems waiting on the corner.

At least there’s one less weight on your shoulders now that Nat and Eden know about you and Harry. You made them swear to their life they won’t tell anyone and you trust them to keep this heavy secret. They’ve been very supportive of the two of you, interrogated you one evening about everything that happened so far, they wanted to make sure Harry treats you the right way. No surprise, he does.

A few weeks before your state exam Harry extends his contract with the school to have him as a professor for another academic year so he is able to keep his visa as well.

You spend your last two weeks buried in your notes before your state exam and Harry gives you all the time and space you need, knowing well how much it means to you to earn the best grade possible.

When you are finally over your exam, you are celebrating at his place. He has bought a little cake and some champagne and you can’t wait to finally spend some time with him without having to worry about your studies.

“I’m proud of you, baby,” he smiles at you, clinking his glass against yours.

“Thank you, feels nice to be finally free,” you chuckle before taking a sip from the champagne.

“My smart girl, knew you’d kill all your exams.” He kisses your lips shortly before squeezing your hand. “How about I run a bath for us, we eat the cake in the tub and then we can watch a movie?”

“Sounds fantastic,” you smile at him before he disappears in the bathroom to get everything ready.

Finishing your champagne you wash the glass quickly and you’re about to cut the cake when your phone buzzes signaling that you’ve just gotten an email. As pull down the notification bar your lips part reading the first few lines. You open the whole thing and read through it eagerly.

It’s a job offer, but not just some lame one that also sounds sketchy at the same time. This one is from one of the biggest investigation offices in London and they are offering you a trainee position as a forensic document examiner with a possible secured spot on their team after one year. The money sounds amazing, the position is perfect, just what you’ve been dreaming of once you are done with school and they are looking forward to hear back from you about a possible interview in the near future.

“Alright, bath is coming together nicely, want to cut the ca—Wha’s up?” Harry questions upon returning from the bathroom, finding you staring at your phone’s screen with widened eyes.

“I, uhh—I just got a… a job offer,” you stutter, still rereading the lines, trying to find a sign that tells you it’s just a joke, but it seems completely genuine.

“What? Baby, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah,” you nod swallowing hard before you look up at him. “It’s in London.”

You watch his face fall from excited and happy to shocked and kind of panicky. You both know what that means, it doesn’t have to be said out loud. Harry just signed another year with the university that’s gonna tie him here for the next 12 months and if you accept the job you’ll be all the way across the world in the UK. Kind of ironic, him, the British guy stuck in the States while you, the American in the relationship, eager to go to the UK.

“That’s… wow. London.”

“Yeah, London,” you nod biting the inside of your cheeks.

“Are you… Are you gonna take it?”

“Well, they want an interview with me, but this is clearly a huge opportunity for me,” you say, not wanting to say the actual words. You feel like saying them would hit you harder than what you can take.

“It clearly is, it’s just that… You want to leave?” he breathes out, eyebrows knitting together.

“This is my only job offer and probably the best I’ll ever get.”

“So you do want to leave,” he forces and it’s pushing your limits.

“Career-wise, of course!” you finally say out loud, unwillingly.

“And what about everything else?”

“I clearly don’t want to leave everything else here, but I will never get a chance like this, Harry. This is the greatest push for someone like me, fresh out of school. I can have a secured spot in a year at a well-respected place. I’m not really in the position to reject offers like this.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, clearly unsure about what to do or say in the situation on his hand. You can tell he has a lot to say, but you’re not sure you want to hear all of them.

“Say something?” you softly plead and his eyes meet yours again, filled with concern.

“I just… It took me by surprise, I guess.”

“I wasn’t expecting it either.”

“No, not the job offer,” he shakes his head.

“Then what?”

“That you are ready to leave so easily. It’s like you never even wanted to discuss a version where you stay here, you just decided that you are leaving and that’s it.”

“Did you hear me? I cannot pass on this opportunity, Harry.”

“I did hear you,” he nods, pressing his lips together. “I heard that you didn’t even think about saying no.”

“Why would I say no?”

“Because I’m here, Y/N!” he snaps. “Good to know that I’m not a factor when it comes to decisions as big as leaving the country!”

“You are, Harry, but I need to think about my future career now. I’m not planning to work at an office for the rest of my life and if I pass on this job I might never get anything as good as this one,” you explain, but it seems like the two of you are having two different conversations.

“But why do I feel like it was never an option for you to stay?”

You give him a confused look. He really doesn’t see your point.

“Okay, why was only I supposed to change plans for us? You coming to London doesn’t feel like an option either, why are you trying to turn this against me?”

“I just extended my contract, you know that.”

“I do, and also, while we are at it, you didn’t ask me about that either. You didn’t even wait for me to figure out what I want to do after school, you just assumed that I would be here, but I never said that.” You can tell it hit him hard in the chest but somehow still, he thinks he is right when he isn’t.

“How could have I known you’d want to move across the globe?” he throws his hands up into the air.

“You’re saying this as if I didn’t just get the email and I’ve been plotting this the whole fucking time!”

“I’m just saying that it’s a huge fucking step and you decided so easily, it says a lot about the nature of our relationship.”

“Why are you saying that?!” you snap at him. “Why are you trying to make me the bad guy?”

“I’m not! I’m just saying that it would have been nice if you at least pretended like it was up for debate. You know what it’ll do to us if you move to London.”

“Then come with me!”

“I can’t!” He raises his voice, clearly losing his temper. “I can’t break my contract and you know that too.”

“Well, I can’t afford to say no to the job either and if I’m being honest, I don’t think we could have made it work even if I stayed.” The words leave your mouth before you could think about them, and the cat is finally out of the bag. It seemingly shocked Harry and he is now staring at you with a blank expression, shoulders falling forward.

“What?” he breathes out and you can actually hear his heart breaking. You take a deep breath and rub your face with your palms, trying to collect your thoughts and not just blurt everything out.

“I’ve been thinking and… Even after I’m officially out of the school, people will know that I was your student if they see us together. And I know how important your reputation is for you so I would never put you through any of the shit we might get for us being together. People would judge, no matter what the situation is. I don’t… I just don’t think we can ever make it work here.”

He stays silent, just stares at you, taking in your words and once again, you wish you could read his mind. You almost start begging him to say something when he finally speaks up.

“So you think we don’t have a chance?”

“Not here… maybe not now. I feel like this has been the perfect example of wrong place, wrong time,” you quietly say, a pang of guilt in your tone, this is not how you planned on making this conversation. To be honest, you wished this never had to come, but you were out of luck.

Harry is awfully silent, it’s all over his face how broken he is and you feel the same. You have so much love for this man, yet fate decided you don’t get to share it with him the way you want.

Walking closer you cup his face in your palms, searching for his eyes until his green irises meet your gaze. You run your thumb across his cheekbones, the pads of your fingers gliding softly over the soft skin. His hands slowly find their way to your waist and he pulls you close to him as you kiss him tenderly, a silent confession about just how much you love him.

“I wanted this to work. I wanted this so badly,” he whispers against your lips, his fingers digging into your back as he keeps you tight in his hold.

“I know. Me too,” you smile at him bitterly.

The rest of the evening passes by silently. You take a bath together, finish the cake anyway though even the sweetness can’t help the pain you both feel. Then you lie in bed for hours, just touching and feeling each other, making the best out of the time you have left. It’s unsaid, but you both know your days together are coming to a close end. Kisses and touches turn into some passionate love making, both of you desperate to feel as close to each other as possible and then you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

If you’re being honest, it’s all a blur following that night. You fix up an interview with London a few days later and they are not shying out of telling you straightforward that they want you there, the job is yours. You have one last short conversation with Harry about you leaving, but it’s more like just a confirmation that yes, it is going to happen and that leaves you with only a few weeks left together before you are packing up to leave the country.

You spend every possible free minute together until graduation where you finally get your degree. Your whole family comes and they cheer on you proudly, Harry standing in the crowd a little farther in the back, but still with a proud smile, a hint of gloominess in his beautiful green eyes. A week later you officially move out of your shared apartment with the girls, it’s a sobbing goodbye since all three of you are leaving in different directions following your graduation. You spend your last two weeks before your departure at home, spending as much time with your family as possible since you won’t be able to see them too often once you leave. Though your mom is dying to take you to the airport to say her final goodbye, you decided to give that time to Harry. He said he would drive to your hometown, pick you up and take you to the airport and you already know it’s gonna turn you into an emotional mess.

Leaving everything behind is hard, but having to say goodbye to Harry is the worst. It’s been a whole emotional rollercoaster for the both of you to get to this point and neither of you are ready to say goodbye, but this is what needs to happen.

That morning, you hug your parents, sister and brother tightly after you load Harry’s car with your two huge suitcases that have your whole life packed in them. You asked your family not to ask any questions about Harry and luckily, they kept quiet the whole time he was there, just treating him as a friend. You couldn’t take having to explain to them who he really is and how you met him, that’s gonna be another conversation for the future when you don’t feel like you’re about to start crying the moment you open your mouth.

The ride to the airport is silent, Harry holds your hand, your glued together palms lying on your lap the whole time. You haven’t even left but you already miss him so much.

Arriving he helps you bring all your stuff inside and patiently waits until you check your baggage in, leaving you with just your carry-on. Standing near the security check, the final moment finally comes and as soon as you look into his eyes you start bawling your eyes out.

“Oh baby, come ‘ere,” he breathes out, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I told you we would make everything right, but I couldn’t,” you sob into his chest as he holds you tight. You feel like if he let go of you, you’d just turn into a puddle at his feet.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he soothes you, his fingers threading through your hair.

“But it feels like it was,” you choke out. Harry leans back and takes your puffy cheeks between his warm palms, looking deep into your eyes.

“It wasn’t. As you said, it was just a matter of wrong time and place. But I think we brought the best out of it.”

“So… you don’t regret it?” you softly ask, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Absolutely not,” he smiles at you kindly. “I loved every moment of it. And I love you.” You notice how he didn’t use past tense when he said he loves you and you can’t decide if it aches your heart more or fills you with joy. A little bit both of them.

“I love you too,” you whisper before pressing your lips against his, savoring them one last time before you leave everything behind.

“Maybe we’ll meet again,” he smiles sweetly when he pulls back, tugging your hair behind your ear with a gentle move.

“I really hope,” you chuckle through your tears. “Take care, Harry,” you tell him, pecking his lips just once more.

“You too, baby,” he smiles, his hands falling to his sides as he lets go of you.

Turning around you walk into security and as you go with the line towards the gates, you glance back one last time. Harry is standing in the exact same spot, eyes glued to you as he watches you disappear from his sight.

youtube

It feels like the meeting is never coming to its end. You exchange a look with Jasmine, who seems just as tired and done with this two hours long discussion as you are. She grabs her phone from the table and you watch her something type out before she eyes at your device, signaling that she just texted you.

Jas: I need alcohol after this day. Want to have a drink with me after work?

Y/N: YES PLEASE!!!!!!!

You see her smile at her screen before both of you return to your boss at the front, talking about a possible upcoming case.

“And last but not least, I want to take a moment to bring light to the excellent work Y/N, our new full-time colleague did on the Santiago case. The police were highly satisfied with the fast and precise work you did. This was your first official case since you’ve decided to accept our offer to become a full member of our team and transferred from your position as a trainee. Congrats!” William, your boss nods in your way with a proud smile as a round of applause cheers for you from your colleagues.

“You go girl!” Jasmine mouths you from across the table and you just chuckle shaking your head.

The meeting finally wraps up and everyone goes on with their day. You are walking back to your office with Jasmine by your side. Your offices are next to each other and you started working here just three weeks apart. She is the same age as you and was approached the same way as well, it’s just that she moved all the way from Australia. The two of you have grown quite close, starting a new life at the same time in a foreign country, it easily brought you together.

“So are we leaving early for those drinks or what?” she asks poking your side.

“How early?”

“I don’t know, like fifteen minutes? Come on, it’s Friday, everyone leaves early!” You shake your head chuckling at her. She can be so restless sometimes, but it’s just the right amount that she can push you out of the comfort zone just enough.

“Alright.”

“Cool, I’ll come banging on your door,” she winks at you before disappearing for her usual coffee break.

It’s two in the afternoon, you still have a few hours ahead of you and some caffeine sounds perfect actually. Though the coffee at the office is excellent, you’ve grown to like this small place nearby, a family owned business that offers the best you’ve ever had.

You grab your bag from your office and head out for a quick coffee run. The walk to the café is freshening, the weather has been treating you well lately, the Sun is beaming and you can only hope you won’t wake up to pouring rain the next morning.

You think back to how lost you were feeling just a year ago, when all of this around you were so new and a little too much at once. One month into your time in London you even thought about quitting and moving back home. You felt alone and broken, yearning after everything you left behind. Your friends, family, loved ones, everything that was so far away from you.

It took you long weeks, even months to get used to your new life and now you can’t even imagine yourself anywhere else. It doesn’t miss you don’t miss terribly the life you had still, but now you have a lot to be happy about here as well.

Waiting at a crossroad, you find yourself twirling around the strawberry ring on your finger, your thumb fidgeting with it like every time you think about your home. You glance down at it and take a deep breath before the lamp turns green and you continue your walk to the café.

It’s not rush hours so there are only a few people lingering around the small place. You don’t have to think about what you are getting, James, the barista already knows your usual and starts making it right away as you swipe your card paying your drink.

You stand at the side, waiting for your coffee, staring out the window, watching people pass by on this lovely afternoon. Your gaze stops on an old lady sitting on a nearby bench, feeding a group of pigeons and you smile as a little girl runs through the birds, making them fly away instantly. The old lady just smiles at the girl, not holding a grudge that she just scared the birds away.

Your eyes move away, watching businessmen come and go, kids going home from school, wearing their school uniforms, everything just feels so… peaceful.

You are almost about to turn away from the window when your gaze falls on a tall figure near the Sainsbury’s across the road and your lips part as you catch a glimpse of a tattooed arm you know all too well. You blink once, twice, three times, waiting for your eyes to make sure it’s the person you think it is.

Harry is standing right there, holding a little bag of groceries, eyes glued to the screen of his phone, oblivious to your shocked gaze on him. Your feet move before your brain could think it through, they take you out of the café and you stand in the middle of the sidewalk as you call out for him.

“Harry!”

His head snaps up at his name, eyes looking around, searching for the source before they finally find you, a shocked, but seemingly joyful expression plastering over his handsome face. He is quick to shove his phone into his pocket before he watches both ways and runs across the road to meet you on the other side. You can’t push your smile down as you watch him approach you, his tall, fit figure getting closer and closer until he is standing right in front of you, watching you in awe.

“Hey,” he breathes out, both of you a little unsure of what to do, how to greet each other.

It’s been months since you last talked. After your departure you kept in contact, you couldn’t just distance yourself from him so abruptly, but the thousands of miles between the two of you made it almost impossible to maintain a working connection, the time zones, all the work you both were buried under and just life itself made you drift away from each other.

But he is now standing in front of you and though he looks slightly different, he is still the Harry you know and love. He is your Harry.

“What… what are you doing here?” you ask, finally finding your voice.

“Did you forget I’m British?” you teases you and you roll your eyes.

“I mean, are you visiting family or something?”

“I uhh…” he glances down at his feet before his eyes meet yours again. “I’m actually back.”

“What do you mean?”

“My contract ended in July and I didn’t… I didn’t extend it. I came back a few weeks ago.”

Your lips part at the information. Harry is in London, he is now in the same city as you, for the first time in a whole year.

“Really? That’s… wow.” There’s too much you want to tell and ask him, yet you stand there, blinking at him, still lost in the feeling of seeing him for the first time again.

“I actually wanted to contact you when I got back, but I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that,” he admits with a nervous chuckle and your eyes soften over him.

“What do you mean? I would have loved it if you called.”

“It’s just that we haven’t talked in a while and I didn’t know… I didn’t know where you’re standing about me.”

“Well, seems like fate did it for you,” you smile at him warmly. “I would love to catch up. I have to head back to work now, but maybe later?”

“What about after work? When are you getting off?”

“I finish at 5.”

“I can meet you at your work if you text me the address.”

“That would be great,” you nod smiling. “My number is still the same, so you’ll know it’s me.”

“Great,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up in a boyish smirk. You are just now realizing how much you’ve missed him.

“I, um…” You’re trying to find the right words, still feeling overwhelmed about the sudden run-in, but at last you decide to go for a hug.

Your arms wrap around his waist, he hesitates for a moment before wrapping you in his tight embrace, pressing his cheek against the top of your head. A shiver runs down your spine as the sense of home washes over you all at once, the warmth of Harry’s body making your heart flutter. Unfortunately, the moment must come to an end. His arms fall from around you, just like they did at the airport when you said goodbye to each other over a year ago.

“I’ll… see you later then,” he smiles as you are backing towards the entrance of the café.

“Yeah, later,” you nod and turning around you walk inside.

Arriving back to the office you drop by Jasmine’s office to tell her that you have to postpone your plans after work.

“What is more important than getting drunk with me?” she gasps dramatically.

“I ran into… I met Harry,” you tell her. You told her all about Harry one evening when you were out, just a few months into your stay. It was one of those days when you were feeling extremely homesick, or maybe you just missed him terribly.

“What? Your professor ex?” she asks with widened eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, you are forgiven. Go and get the man back!”

“What?” you chuckle. “We just met after a year, how do you know I want him back? Maybe I just want to catch up with him,” you say, but it’s an obvious and blatant lie and you both know that. Jasmine gives you a look.

“Please, you are still so obviously in love with the man, don’t even try to convince me otherwise.”

You don’t protest, just bite into your bottom lip. You really are in love with him, or the version you knew a year ago. He could be an entirely different person now so you can’t be sure if your feelings are the same about the man you met today.

“Have fun with him and then tell me all about it after, okay?” she beams and you just nod, leaving her to finish her work.

As time is slowly passing by you find yourself growing nervous about seeing Harry. That short little conversation on the street was not enough to calm your nerves. What is he like now? Is he the same? Does he have new hobbies? Is he as happy to see you as you are to see him? What will he think of you? What if he doesn’t like you after all this time?

You try to push the questions to the back of your mind, not wanting to overwhelm yourself too much to the point where you chicken out of seeing him. When you’re on your way down following his text that he is waiting for you in front of the building, you are trying to keep yourself together and remind yourself that it’s just Harry, he might be a little different, but he is still kind of the same.

Luckily, the moment you spot him waiting a few feet away from the entrance, you forget about everything else, he is the only one to exist. He envelopes you in a hug when you arrive, smiling at you warmly.

“Hi, ready to go?” he kindly asks and you nod.

You settle for a nearby bar you’ve actually been to with Jasmine before. Harry insists on paying for the first round of drinks as the two of you settle in a secluded booth at the back. When he is standing at the bar you catch yourself watching him in awe. The situation is quite odd, could have never happened probably back home, the two of you casually out for a drink.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks upon returning, sitting across you.

“I was just thinking how this is the first time we are out, just the two of us.”

Harry smiles softly, probably appreciating it just the same.

The next couple of hours you both try to share anything and everything that has happened in the past year. He tells you about his last year as a professor and him not extending his contact. Coming back to London he has joined a research group for a marketing company, using his excellent knowledge to analyze human behavior in connection with different type of ads.

“It’s a lot different from being a college professor ain’t it?” you tease him and he nods chuckling.

“Guess I wanted some change. But it’s been nice, I enjoy doing a lot of research and experiments.”

Then you tell him about your time as a forensic document examiner, all the different cases you worked on and how it has been, living in London on your own. He listens to your tales about everything you’ve done with Jasmine, the concerts and karaoke bars you’ve been to and just generally your life overseas.

“Sounds like you’ve found your place, then,” he says smiling softly.

“I guess. Wasn’t an easy transition, but I’m feeling good now,” you nod. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss my past,” you add.

His eyes wander down to your hands that are fidgeting with your almost empty glass. You see how they stop over the ring and he seems surprised as he reaches out, takes your hand in his and runs his thumb over the little strawberries.

“You’re still wearing the ring,” he states.

“Of course,” you smile and when he is about to let go of your hand, you grab it and hold it, needing to feel his touch.

You wanted to run back home so many times because you were missing him too badly, missed his voice, his eyes, his touch, everything and now, out of nowhere, he is here with you again, far away from the place where it all started and had to end for a while, still making you feel like home, no matter where you are.

At one point, you move to sit beside him in the booth. You just keep sharing and sharing even things you’ve talked about on the phone before. You’re just soaking each other in. His arm soon moves around your shoulders and you gladly lean into his side, placing a hand to his thigh, sparkles running through your body.

“I love this,” you hum to yourself upon finishing your last drink.

“Love what?”

“Being out with you without a worry. I always dreamt of this and it’s just… so natural. I wish we got to experience it before.”

“As you said, that was a wrong time and place. Wasn’t our fault.”

You lift your head, eyes meeting his curious green irises as he smiles down at you kindly. You’ve missed that smile, it still makes your heart skip a beat, just like at the beginning.

“And do you think it’s the right time and place now?” you prompt the question.

“It’s definitely… better,” he chuckles softly. “Unless you are seeing someone, because now would be the best time to tell me.”

“I’m not,” you shake your head smirking. “Tried to go on dates, but truth is… none of them were you. I gave up after a few terrible attempts.”

“I didn’t even try,” he shyly smiles. “I just… knew no one would make me as happy as you did. As you always do.”

Pushing yourself up a bit, you rest your forehead against his as he closes his eyes, his arm around your shoulder tightens and his other hand rests on your thigh, pulling you closer. Your palm slides up his chest and neck until you’re cupping his cheek. You place a soft lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, testing the waters out, seeing how he reacts though nothing that happened tonight tells you he wants to keep his distance.

He moves his face, nose nudging against you before his lips find yours in a kiss you’ve been longing for since you left him behind at the airport over a year ago. Your fingers lace through his hair, pulling him towards you as if he could escape from your hold any moment, but he is definitely here to stay. Your lips clash again and again, savoring each other, eagerly trying to make up for the time you lost since your departure. You melt into his arms, moving your legs across his lap as he pulls you to his lap in the booth, partially hidden from the rest of the bar, wrapped up in your little bubble. He tastes like home, his kisses feel like the first warm rays of sunshine after a long and cold winter, the only thing you couldn’t really get yourself over this whole year. Because you’ve become good at pushing your feelings down to the point where you could easily carry on, but he was always in the corner of your mind, making you wonder if you’ll ever meet again and if you do, will it be the same as before?

It’s not, because it’s better. The burdens and banters that tied you both down a year ago are now long gone, you have all the time and space in the world, nothing is restricting you. You can touch him and kiss him whenever and wherever you want. There’s no more sneaking around, no one here knows who you are and who Harry used to me to you. Here, you’re just another lovesick couple, so into each other it’s almost insane.

When he pulls back his forehead stays rested against yours as you both are trying to catch your breath. His hand runs up and down your thigh, the warmth of his palm melting your body under his soft touch.

“I love you,” he breathes out, eyes meeting yours.

“You still do?” you ask with a small smile, heart beating in your throat.

“I never stopped loving you,” he admits and you let out a shaky breath, pulling him down for a short kiss.

“Not even when I was an ocean away from you?”

“No,” he chuckles shaking his head. “If that’s possible, I loved you even more when you were away. I realized how much you mean to me and I could only hope you weren’t moving on without me.”

“I could never,” you smile at him softly. “I love you too much to do that.”

“You have no idea how much I missed you say that,” he breathes out with a soft chuckle and you kiss his lips shortly, assuring him that you feel the same way. “So… are we going to try again?”

“Do you want to?”

“There’s nothing I want more, baby,” he truthfully admits, his gaze softening at you as he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you want to?”

“Of course,” you smile at him widely. “I think it’s settled.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry style fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #professor!harry #professor!harry au #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

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therealvalkyrie · 3 years

Text

you feel love in the sodium

Pairing/setting: Pro-hero!Bakugou Katsuki x GN!Reader

Summary: Your pro-hero ex-boyfriend helps pull you out of a depressive episode.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: mentions of attempted suicide, suicidal ideation, nothing too graphic, angst to fluff

AN: Hi all, so I decided I’d post this now bc ngl I had kind of a shit day and need to feel as though something productive happened. It’s very self-indulgent and I’m not sure I quite have the target audience for it, but really? I don’t care. I hope you enjoy and that it maybe helps someone. Special thanks to @doinmybesthere for being my amazing editor for this fic! As always, don’t hesitate to drop into my DMs/askbox to chat:) Be kind to yourselves. ~valkyrie

US National Suicide Hotline: (800) 273-8255

sequel: when to cradle, when to pry

incredible art of the depression-cure dumplings by the one and only @/bluebellhairpin!!

The room is dark, curtains drawn against the bright afternoon sun, light switch untouched since yesterday. You’re curled up in bed under layers of blankets and sweaty pajamas— no underwear, though. You’d run out of clean pairs two days ago. It’s not sleep that’s kept you in bed, shaded against the world, but a haze of guilt and self loathing that’s coated your mind, the thickest it’s been in months. You can barely think through it, only shifting lazily to your other side whenever your arms fall asleep. It’s kinda nice, not thinking, not worrying, not feeling. The world is locked away. Or maybe you are. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Nothing does.

Well, that’s not completely true. Other people matter. To the world, to each other, to you. Deku matters. And Yaomomo and Ochaco. They matter so much it hurts, pain twisting in your gullet and punching its way out of you in the form of a sniffle stifled against your comforter. He matters, too, the niggling voice whispers in the back of your head. You mentally beat it back with a stick and lock it in a closet; a twisted application of techniques learned in therapy. They may matter to each other and to you and to the world, but you don’t matter. You’re simply there. And nothing would be different if you weren’t.

This thought echoes in your head for a while, finally settling into oblivion to leave your mind hazy once again. This is nice.

What’s not nice is the sudden blinding light in your eyes when the bedroom door opens. You squeeze your eyes shut against both it and the sudden migraine shooting like a knife through the side of your head. You can’t even think straight until it’s shut halfway again and the mattress dips below the weight of someone sitting down beside you.

“Fuck off, Deku, I told you I’m fine,” it comes out harsh and bitter under your voice crack. He doesn’t deserve it, but you know if you’re not mean he won’t leave you alone. You hate that you know that.

“Fuck you, I’m not fucking Deku. And don’t tell me what to do.”

The growl catches you off guard, your breath catching in the phlegm of your throat, but your body doesn’t react. Apathetic.

“Fuck off, Bakugou.” It’s quieter, but no less harsh. “I didn’t ask you to come here.”

“You didn’t have to ask, Deku said you haven’t left your apartment in four days. And that he doesn’t think you’ve been eating. I came of my own volition.” He’s also quieter, and doesn’t swear, but there’s no hint of that condescending, mollifying sympathetic voice everyone else has used with you recently. Bakugou doesn’t coddle.

“Fucking Deku,” you mutter, smushing your face into your pillow. “You’re my ex-boyfriend, Bakugou, not my keeper. Don’t go thinking you have some sort of responsibility for me.”

“We agreed to stay friends, dumbass. I’m here as a friend, not your keeper.”

He’s right, of course. When is he not? The breakup had been mutual, had even felt inevitable the busier you both got. Him in his pro-hero career and you in grad school. It was a civil conversation, a fucking rational discussion, as you split up who got to keep the apartment, the plants, the coffeemaker. It had been fine. Necessary. Inevitable. Mutual. It was fine, and then you hadn’t seen each other for six months.

Fucking Deku.

“What do you want.” It’s flat, emotionless.

“To make sure you’re okay. To help you.”

You finally crack an eye open and tilt your head to look at him through the haze. He looks the same. Generally disgruntled, with that little line in between his eyebrows, wearing a black tank top and grey sweats, hair spiky and unkempt. Were you capable of feeling anything, you’re sure your stomach would have flipped at the familiarity of him.

“Yep. Well. Thanks, but I don’t need help. I’m perfectly fine.” This time, you actually try to sound convincing, chipper, pleasant. Fake. The plastic words feel thick in your mouth and you know he doesn’t believe them for a second. He scoffs, shaking his head.

“Don’t lie. You’re terrible at it.”

“Then fuck off,” you snarl, voice dropping the fake, turning back into your pillow.

“Alright, that’s it,” he says with a finality that you know all too well. Bakugou’s never had patience, and apparently you’ve pushed him too far, because in a second he’s ripped the covers off you and grabbed your waist in two big hands, hefting you over his shoulder.

“Hey!! What the fu— put me down! Katsuki, put me down!” You struggle and kick and pound at his back, anger screaming its way to the surface first. He only grunts and continues on his way into the living room, flipping the light on as he passes it.

The light makes you cry out as your headache redoubles, but you quit struggling to bury your face and fingers into his tank top. A couple more steps, then you’re deposited with a bounce on the couch. You go to lay down and curl into yourself, but you’re prevented by your kidnapper when he cages you in with his arms against the back of the couch. You settle for petulantly avoiding his gaze, eyes cast down, then up at the ceiling, then—

“Have you been going to therapy?” The question catches you so off guard that you actually do meet his carnelian eyes for the first time, centimeters away from yours.

You didn’t think he’d remember your therapy. You’d gone since before you started dating, since college, really, and had seen your therapist intermittently throughout your relationship. But it wasn’t something you discussed with Bakugou, at least no more than in passing.

A moment of silence, then you shake your head minutely.

“Have you been going to class?” Of course he’s asking that. Ever the scholar.

You shake your head again.

“Well, have you at least been meeting with your thesis advisor?”

A shake of the head and a quiet, “I dropped out.”

Your cocktail of shame and embarrassment and fear mix with his shock for an impossibly long second. Then he explodes.

“What do you mean you dropped out?!” He’s shouting now, literally spitting mad, and you flinch away, close your eyes against it, bite your trembling lower lip. “Grad school was all you ever wanted! Learning was your passion, your— your happiness! What the fuck do you mean you dropped out?”

“I mean I dropped out! Don’t yell at me. It just... I couldn’t do it anymore.” Your voice is small, smaller than he’s ever heard it, as fat tears roll down your cheeks for the first time since you mailed the disenrollment forms two months ago. A sob wrenches from your gut and you’re shaking violently, wiping your wet cheeks desperately, hunched in on yourself. “D-don’t yell at me-e….”

“Fuck.” You feel him back off, hands leaving the couch, body heat retreating to leave you cold and shivering. “Shit,” you hear, soft under your loud sobbing, and you hazard a glance up at him through wet eyelashes. He’s crouched in front of you now, wrists balanced on his knees and face turned towards the ceiling. You go back to wiping your tears.

“Alright, sweetheart.” Warm and heavy hands land on your thighs and his face ducks into your line of vision. “Let’s start easier. Have you eaten today?”

You manage a tiny “no” and to meet his eyes.

“Did you eat yesterday?”

“No.”

“Alright. Food first. Then we’ll get you cleaned up. You look gross.”

This prompts a surprised laugh hiccoughed from your chest, before you sigh and rest your hands on his. “Bakugou...”

“Shut up,” he cuts you off. “I’m doing this for you. No arguing.”

You try to stare him down, but ultimately fail. Stubborn motherfucker. You don’t want him here. You don’t need him.

Still, it feels nice to feel cared for.

“Come on, keep me company in the kitchen.” He stands and offers you a hand, pulling you up to be vertical for the first time in 30 hours. It makes your head spin, but he stabilizes you with big hands on your shoulders when you start tilting dangerously. “Whoah, there, Tilt-a-Whirl. This way.”

He steers you firmly to the kitchen, then deposits you on a stool at the island where you sit, shivering and clutching your stomach. He disappears back into the living room for a moment, only to return with a fleece blanket which he drapes around your shoulders and tucks into your folded arms. Then, he’s a whirlwind in your kitchen, banging open cupboards, inspecting your fridge, rummaging for pots and pans. Somewhere in the midst of it, he sets down a glass of water in front of you, which you sip at intermittently.

“Wow, you really don’t have shit to eat in here, do you?” He’s only managed to produce two packets of ramen (chicken flavored), a stick of butter, and an elderly head of lettuce. You grimace under the look he gives you. Since the breakup and loss of his phenomenal cooking, you’d been ordering a lot of takeout. “I hate to do this, but I’ll just have to raid Deku’s pantry. Back in a flash. Stay right there.”

It’s lucky that your green-haired childhood friend lives right across the hall, you suppose, in emergencies like this. He’s always there for a cup of sugar or a Friday night gaming marathon. Ever the observer, it’s really no surprise he noticed you hadn’t left the house, not even to bother him about the latest manga chapter releases.

In Bakugou’s absence and the subsequent quiet of the kitchen, you slump down to rest your arms and head on the counter, clutching the faded blue fleece blanket in your stiff fingers. It’s one of your favorites, UA branded and soft with age. You weren’t sure if it was yours or Bakugou’s originally, but he’d left it when he moved out in any case. It even smells faintly like him, sweet and smokey like his quirk. You bury your nose into it and close your eyes.

It’s only a couple more minutes before the door opens again, admitting both Bakugou and your green haired neighbor, arms filled with food. The blonde breezes past you and sets to work immediately, but Deku looks surprised to see you there. Why? It’s your own goddamn apartment.

He says your name in that polite, concerned tenor of his and maintains eye contact as he sets down a bag of vegetables and other assorted items on the island. “How are you doing?” He says it like you’ll break, and it twists the proverbial knife of all this embarrassment a little further. You know he’s genuine, though. Always is.

“Shitty.” The blunt answer catches him off guard, and he can only blink down at you for a second. “But you knew that.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I-I guess I did, huh?” He shifts his weight awkwardly for a second. “Well, uh, I’ll let you two get to it—”

“Deku,” you interrupt him and summon the strength to sit up, gesturing for him to come closer. He does, hesitantly, and when he’s within arm’s reach you tug him into a hug. He squeaks, surprised, as you wrap arms around his middle and bury your face in his chest, but a split second later he’s reciprocating. He relaxes into you, gentle hands on your back and face buried into your hair. “Thank you,” you whisper loud enough for just him to hear.

“Of course. You know I love you,” his voice rumbles through you and you sigh into it. Then, you’re gripping the back of his neck and yanking him back to rest your forehead on his, staring menacingly into his eyes.

“And,” you growl, “you are officially on my Shit List.”

“B-but—“

“Don’t ever call any of my exes on me ever again.”

“Ok-kay— I promise.”

The poor man looks terrified, positively shaking in his house slippers. Another moment of intimidation, then you let him go and soften your face.

“Thanks for the food.”

“Y-you got it! Let me know if there’s anything else you need!” He scurries out of the kitchen and your apartment, like a spooked horse, chased by your wheezing laugh. In the hallway, safe from the penetrating gazes of his childhood friends, he lets out a relieved breath and sags against the wall. You’ll be okay now. He can feel it.

Bakugou Katsuki is like a tornado when you turn your attention back to him, chopping vegetables and scooping them into an already steaming pot on the stove. He looks at home, knowing exactly where the knives and strainers and slotted spoons are kept. He is the one who originally organized this kitchen, after all. You know he doesn’t like to be interrupted when he cooks, so you settle into watching him with your head rested on your forearms again. Occasionally, he catches your gaze as he twists and turns, but only scowls at your passive, lidded eyes.

You’re not the same person you were six months ago, and you’re certainly not the same as when he fell in love with you, all those years ago. Back at UA you were bright and ambitious, sarcastic and even aggressive on occasion. In college, when he got the guts to finally ask you out, you’d been happy, if a little more jaded, but just as driven and enthusiastic about learning. When did you become this? Droopy and distant and passive and sad? If he’d paid a little more attention, made more time for you, would he have noticed before it got this bad? If he’d reached out as a friend after the breakup, would he have needed fucking Deku to tell him you were in trouble?

He pours all these feelings into his food, hoping you’ll know what he’s thinking just from the taste. 15 minutes later, he’s sliding two bowls of ramen thick with veggies and topped with chicken dumplings onto the counter and sitting down beside you. He hands you a pair of chopsticks.

“The dumplings are pre-wrapped and the noodles are cheap, but everything else is fresh. Try to eat as much as you can,” is his gruff command before he digs in.

You give a half smile and comply, pushing up to rest your elbows on the table. He doesn’t comment on your table manners for once.

It’s delicious, not that you’d expect anything different, flavorful and filling. You nibble slowly, not really hungry but not wanting to waste food. The broth is easier to get down, so you sip at it, relishing the hot feeling that slides down your throat and settles in your stomach. You feel love in the sodium.

He finishes before you, scarfing down the whole bowl at a speed which would be alarming if you weren’t used to it. He must’ve not eaten lunch at the agency.

Speaking of which, “Hey, why aren’t you at work right now? The day shift doesn’t end until 4.” The wall clock tells you it’s 3:15.

“I’ve been working the night shift recently. And I already called in, so you’ve got me all day,” he answers, clearing his dishes to the sink and starting to wash them. You stand up and put away your leftovers, feeling less on the precipice than you have in days. You must’ve been hungry after all.

“You really took a day off for me?” The weight of his words took a second to sink in, but when they did you felt the warmth from your stomach start to spread to your chest. Bakugou almost never takes days off, not even for his birthday. You lean your back against the counter next to him and turn to catch his expression. It’s grumpy. Surprise, surprise.

He doesn’t answer until he’s put the last dish in the drying rack and turned off the water. He turns to you, brow furrowed and arms crossed. “Of course I did, dumbass. I was really scared for you.”

This catches you off guard. Scared? Impossible.

“Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t get scared,” you counter softly, mirroring his signature brow wrinkle.

“Tch. Idiot. I’m scared all the time. Especially about you. And when Deku called me, saying he hadn’t seen you, that you weren’t eating, I-I,” he actually stutters, bravado cracking, “feared the worst, that maybe I’d open your door and find you—“ He can’t even finish the thought, instead rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes and spitting out an expletive. “I couldn’t’ve handled that,” he finishes, rumbling your name low and gravelly.

You don’t know what to say. The words are stuck behind the fog, thinner now and less oppressive, but maintained by the lack of sleep. Instead, you reach out a finger and smooth the crease between his brows like you have since high school. The gesture prompts the accompanying admonishment, “Careful, keep making that face and it’ll get stuck that way.”

He stares at you from under your gentle hand for a second, then tugs you towards his chest with a swift movement. You land with an undignified “oof” as his arms wrap securely around you. It’s so familiar, so right, and you find yourself melting into him, fingers curling into his shirt and body sagging. He keeps you upright, chin hooked over your head. It’s a little tight, a little demanding, but it feels so good compared to the nothing you’ve been floating in that you feel your chest start to loosen and all of a sudden you’re crying for the sake of crying. For release and catharsis.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you,” he soothes, warm hands rubbing your back firmly.

It’s a while before your big hiccoughing sobs turn to sniffles, and it’s a while after that before you can lift your head to meet his eyes.

This time, you do find the words. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

He only huffs and tucks your head back into his chest. “Don’t apologize. It’s my job to worry.”

It’s not really, you know that, but you don’t have it in you to argue. You haven’t been his problem since the minute he moved out. That day you’d managed fine, rearranging the bathroom and your closet now that you had more space. It was the next that it hit you like a freight train.

He holds you for a minute longer, nose in your hair and eyes screwed tight where you can’t see them, then pulls away a fraction.

“You want a bath or a shower, sweetheart?”

“Bath.” You don’t think you can stand without him for that long.

But it seems he doesn’t intend to let you go because he scoops you up, one hand around your back and the other under your knees, cradled to his chest like something precious.

In the bathroom, he sets you down on the closed toilet and starts the water running. He even rummages around the cabinet for your favorite lavender bath salts and adds a scoop. Then, he’s stripping down to his boxers and you avert your eyes, carefully examining the grout between the tiles with great interest. They really do need a cleaning, when was the last time you actually mopped—

“Arms up,” he commands, wrenching your mind back to the task at hand. You raise your arms above your head and he lifts off your sweatshirt and t-shirt in one go, tossing them into the overflowing laundry basket in the corner. You can’t be bothered to hide your body from him; it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, anyway. You feel his eyes linger on you for a moment before he lifts up one foot to remove your fuzzy sock.

He can’t help but notice how different you look under your pajamas. You’re softer, more pliable — probably stopped working out altogether when he moved out — and there’s a slope to your shoulders that wasn’t there before. You’re still beautiful, all his favorite curves and dips still intact, and it takes a concerted effort for him not to dig his fingers into your waist like he used to love to do. He rolls off the other sock, balls them both together and throws them in a perfect arc to the laundry, then tugs you to your feet. The sweatpants are last to go, elastic waistband smoothing over your hips.

He helps you into the tub first and you sigh as the hot water caresses your skin, then he climbs in behind you, his chest to your back, legs on either side. You sink back into him voluntarily and let your eyes flutter shut. It’s almost like you’re transported back in time. On the rare Sunday morning you both had off, you’d wake up slow and easy, lying completely on top of him to prevent his early morning run. You’d press kisses to his neck, then he’d scoop you up and plonk you down in the bath just like this. You’d discuss your weeks and TV shows and politics, which would bleed over into breakfast: blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup and scrambled eggs.

You feel completely wrapped in the quiet fantasy as he soaps up a washcloth and drags it in gentle circles over your skin. You follow his lead, dipping your hair and sighing when his fingers rub shampoo and conditioner through it. You giggle when he washes between your toes, then finally relax back into him when he deems you clean.

“Why’d you break up with me?” The question is low, murmured into the curve of your shoulder.

“It was mutual,” you reply automatically, habitually. It was mutual, mutual, mutual, was all you’d echoed to your friends and family for months to ease their worry.

“Yeah, but you brought it up.”

You’re glad you’re facing away from him for this. So that you can maintain some semblance of dignity. You make ripples in the water and trace them with idle fingertips while gathering your thoughts.

“We were both so busy. And I thought— I didn’t want you to sacrifice your career for me, I know how much you love it, and I couldn’t ask you to step away from that even a little bit.” He takes a sharp breath to reply, but you ramble on, “And I guess I just felt myself, like, slipping back into this headspace that I had in high school. I didn’t tell you— didn’t tell anyone, actually, at the time, but I would get so wrapped up in myself for days and days back at UA, so focused on one thing or another that I couldn’t even take care of myself. And at one point that thing was dying. I thought about dying so much that sometimes it felt like I already had, and—“ you take a shallow, shuddering breath “—you remember those two weeks senior year that I was gone because of a family emergency?”

He nods. He’d been annoyed because you missed an entire unit on covert ops and he had to catch you up when you got back.

“It wasn’t a family emergency. Aizawa-sensei came looking for me at the dorms after I skipped morning classes and found me halfway through swallowing a bottle of pills.” Your voice is even as you admit it, but your hands are shaking violently, making water splash against the sides of the tub. Bakugou takes them in his own hands and wraps his arms around your shoulders so that you’re both hugging your body. “He called an ambulance, then my parents, and I spent those two weeks in the psych ward. He visited me every day. He’s a good man.”

“He is,” Bakugou manages to agree, choking out the words against your shoulder.

“Anyway,” you continue as though you hadn’t just ripped his heart out through the throat, “I felt myself becoming like that again, and I felt too ashamed to go back to therapy, like a failure, and I didn’t want to burden you with my mental issues, and the whole thing was just too easy to run away from, I guess.”

He’s quiet for a long time as the water grows tepid, arms steady around you and breath hot on your collarbone. You find yourself slack with the relief of this burden off your chest, but can’t help wondering if it’s too little too late. Maybe you’re still unsalvageable.

“Did anybody else know?”

“Just Yaomomo. She brought me her notes. And snacks.”

“You could’ve told me.”

“No, I couldn’t’ve.”

He huffs, frustrated. “Yes, I could’ve—“

“No, you don’t understand. I couldn’t even admit it to myself for years. Yaomomo only knew because Aizawa told her because she was my closest friend. And top of the class. I didn’t want anyone knowing,” you drop your voice to a whisper. “It wasn’t about you, Katsuki.”

He presses his forehead to your shoulder and growls, then changes tack. “Well, then what about when we were dating? Isn’t that the point of being in a relationship, to rely on each other?”

“The point for me was that I loved you. Not that I wanted you to carry my burdens for me.”

Loved. You still love him, but you think it would be cruel to say now.

“Idiot. I loved you, too. And I didn’t want you to suffer alone. You never let me shoulder anything by myself. Remember the moral support workouts? When you’d hold my hand and sleep in the hospital when I got injured on a job? When you held me together for three months after I couldn’t save that kid? You even went to her funeral with me, gave my condolences and apologies when I couldn’t speak. You dumbass, why didn’t you think I’d do the same for you?”

You register hot tears landing on your collarbone and trailing down your chest. It jars you for a second; Bakugou hardly ever cries. Slowly, cautiously, you twist in his grasp to face him, bringing your hands to either side of his face. He really is crying, tears tracking across his cheeks and dripping off his chin. He’s still scowling, though, and you rub the worry line with a pruney finger until it relaxes.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, sincerely, pouring every bit of the “I’m still in love with you” on the tip of your tongue into it. You press a kiss to his forehead, then wipe his cheeks dry with your thumbs.

He sighs, deep and heavy and more serious than you’ve ever heard him, resting his hands on your hips and rubbing circles in them with his thumbs. “Will you let me, now? Now that I know, will you let me support and care for you? Even if it’s just as a friend.”

Your heart flutters in your chest for the first time in weeks, prompting a rush of blood to your cheeks and neck. He wants to be in your life? Even after all you’ve told him today? Even as he’s seen how you live when all you see is greyscale?

Before you can stop yourself, you dip your head and kiss him softly, innocently and with all the heartache you’ve suffered in your whole life. He actually squeaks in surprise, but it quickly lowers to a moan of satisfaction as he reciprocates, sinking thick fingers into the curve of your hips. You pull away after a moment, sliding your hands down his neck to rest on his broad shoulders.

“Sor—“

“You’ve really gotta stop apologizing, baka,” he rumbles, leaning up again to catch your mouth against his. It’s just as soft, but this time you feel all of him, all his regret and fear and love. You’d forgotten how you can have entire conversations just in kisses. When your lips part, you rest your foreheads together and just breathe for a moment. The pendulum of your emotions today has been erratic and the conflicting endorphins and brain chemicals are making your head spin, manifesting in a giddy grin spread across your face.

“Move in with me.” The command leaves your mouth before you can reel it back in.

You expect him to argue, to bicker as he normally does, but his mouth only twitches into a grin rivaling your own as he murmurs an indulgent, “Okay.”

The haze thins a little more.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #pro hero bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #angst to fluff #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: depressive episode #tw: attempted suicide #my hero academia fanfic #boku no hero academia fanfic #valkyrie writes

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