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pink-sparkly-witch · 1 year

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The Widow - Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, oral sex (f rec), p in v, language, angst, fluff

Words: 3,183

Summary: Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: "Family Don't End with Blood," takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her, is what happens when she falls in love again?

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F!Reader (past) | Dean Winchester x F!Reader

A/N: Alright, here we go guys! We’re going there… we’re doing it (or rather they’re doing it *hahaha snort*)! Fasten your seatbelts because it’s going to be a bumpy ride! 💖

Thanks for all of your support so far! I really appreciate all of it and all of you 😘

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

After a clumsy tumble of flying clothes and limbs, Dean lays you on the bed. Both of you are now completely naked and desperately trying to kiss and touch as much of the other as you can. His lips feel good, and as they leave yours to explore your neck, your hands find themselves in his hair, tugging at the short strands.

Dean moans and responds by gently biting your clavicle, and you feel him grin into your skin as your hips jerk into his. He continues his journey down your body, spending a decent amount of time with each breast – not that you mind one bit.

“Dean, please,” you beg, squirming under his wandering hands and lips, convinced you’ll implode if he doesn’t touch you where you need him most soon. Dean smirks up at you like he’s not done teasing, but decides to put you out of your misery and settle himself between your legs.

“Jesus, sweetheart, you’re perfect,” he groans as he spreads your legs and gazes at your slick folds.

He swipes his tongue along your slit and you gasp and jerk your hips at the feeling. Dean presses your thighs into the bed, forcing you to stay open to him, and when his tongue slips past your folds and finds your clit, you don’t know who moans louder.

Dean is good with his tongue and knows exactly what he’s doing, and you find yourself close to your climax embarrassingly quickly. A fleeting thought crosses your mind, questioning if it’s because it’s been almost a year since you’ve experienced this kind of release, or if it’s because Dean is just that good.

“Fuck, Dean!” You moan his name loudly as you reach your peak. Your empty channel desperately clutches at nothing, and when you find your way back to the present moment, Dean is humming as he laps softly at your release.

“You taste so good, baby girl. I’m finding it hard to pull myself away,” he rasps, and with a few more kisses to your sex, Dean finally crawls up your body and leans down to kiss you. The tang of your juices is still strong on his lips and tongue, and it makes you feel drunk despite the fact you haven’t had a single drop of alcohol tonight.

Shifting your weight and using all of your strength, you manage to roll Dean off to the side and quickly straddle his hips. You grind your slick centre over his hard member and smirk as his eyes roll and a groan rumbles from the depths of his belly.

You sit up on your knees and take Dean’s cock in your hand, pumping it a few times to spread your wetness over his length. Keeping your eyes on each other, you place him at your centre and push down. The burn as his girth stretches you is perfect, and the hitch in Dean’s breath before his moans pushes you closer to a second orgasm.

Once he’s filled you completely, you still and wait until you adjust to the stretch. Placing your hands on his chest, you run your hands over the soft muscle on his torso. Dean caresses your legs and up your sides, cupping your breasts and toying with your pebbled nipples. He waits patiently for you to get used to him, smiling when you exhale a soft moan and raise your hips back up his length.

It doesn’t take long until you find a good rhythm. Circling your hips when you’ve taken him to the root helps give you the friction you need to start chasing another high. Dean moves one hand down your torso, sliding his thumb between your folds and circling your bundle of nerves, immediately making your walls clench and a moan rip from your throat.

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good,” Dean praises. You can’t stop your body’s reaction to his words and feel your walls squeeze him harder.

“Dean, I–” you gasp as your orgasm hits you, making you curse and moan as you grind your pelvis into his.

“That’s it, baby girl, take what you need,” Dean murmurs, thrusting up into you and prolonging your climax.

You fall forward, weak from your efforts, and Dean places a kiss on your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist. He lifts you and turns, blanketing your still-trembling body with his. Dean’s first thrust is slow and deep, and he angles his hips just right, hitting that place inside you that makes you see stars.

Dean looks down at you and you feel totally exposed, which sounds ridiculous given the position you find yourself in with him, but it’s true. The way he looks at you is like you’re the only woman in the world worth knowing. The only woman he wants to make love to ever again.

The intimacy of the situation makes your moans get louder, and your body feels like it’s about to combust. Dean’s arms rest at either side of your head and he grinds into your hips. When his lips find that sweet little spot on your neck, it turns you to putty; pliant and willing to give him anything he asks for.

He looks back into your eyes and you fall apart for him for a third time, and this time, he falls with you. He rests his forehead against yours and stills inside you, gasping out your name as his release covers your fluttering walls.

Exhausted and panting, you both stay where you are unmoving, and try to catch your breath. You run your hands down his back and smile softly as he hums in pure bliss.

Finally slipping from your core, Dean rolls to the side and pulls you into his chest and you find yourself fitting there perfectly. He strokes your hair, and before you know it, you’re drifting off to sleep with a blissful smile adorning your face, and bones that feel like jell-o.

Dean’s POV

Y/N had fallen asleep almost instantly, leaving Dean wide awake and with the fog beginning to clear. The sinking feeling of betrayal was quick to start making itself known. How could he do this? How could he sleep with his brother’s wife? How could he do this to Y/N?

She’s completely innocent in all this as far as he’s concerned. After all, he kissed her. And when she’d been confused and upset, no less. He’d taken advantage of her, pure and simple. And that makes him feel even more awful.

He holds her for a little while longer, knowing the chances of her even speaking to him again, let alone sleeping in his arms, are slim to none. Especially after tonight. He already knows what will happen next. As soon as she wakes up, she’ll get dressed, avoid talking to him and looking at him, and leave his house as quickly as she can, not even staying for coffee.

Jesus, why does he always have to fuck things up?

Dean carefully rolls Y/N off his chest and gets out of bed as quietly as he can. She looks more peaceful and relaxed than he’s seen her in a long time, and he’ll be damned if he fucks that up too and wakes her. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a Henley, he makes his way downstairs and heads straight to the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. Sitting on the couch, he takes the cap off and takes three–or is it four?–long swigs straight from the bottle, and doesn’t even flinch as the alcohol burns his throat.

“I fucked up, Sammy,” he whispers to the empty room. “I fucked up, and I fell in love with your girl.” At hearing the words out loud for the first time, Dean lets everything sink in and gives into the tears that desperately need to fall.

Y/N’s POV

Waking with a start, you sigh as you take in your surroundings and relive some of the memories from the night before. You try to swallow down the guilt bubbling in your stomach, but you know you have nothing to feel guilty about, not really, because Sam has been gone for almost a year. But you slept with his brother. And right now, you can’t think of a bigger betrayal than that.

But you also can’t ignore the way Dean had looked at you and touched you last night. You knew that look. Sam used to look at you like that all the time, and as much as it warms your heart to know how Dean feels about you, he’s your husband’s brother, and you don’t know if you’ll be able to ever go there with him.

Turning over to look for the man taking over all your thoughts, you see the bed is empty. You stretch your hand out and feel the cold sheets. Dean’s side of the bed doesn’t even look like it’s been slept in.

It fills you with sadness to think he might feel the same as you about what happened – the guilt and the betrayal – and it makes your eyes begin to water. Knowing you’ll have to see him on your way out, and that the last thing you want to do is to make a scene or make him uncomfortable, you breathe deeply and blink back the tears that want to fall.

Climbing out of Dean’s bed, you find your clothes, dress quickly and make your way downstairs. When you walk into his living room you notice two things; first, there’s an empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table that definitely wasn’t there last night. Second, Dean’s eyes are puffy and bloodshot and you know it’s not guilt or betrayal he feels.

It’s regret.

It all makes sense now. He didn’t stay in bed with you for long after you slept with him and he’s been drinking all night by the looks of things. Now if that doesn’t scream that he wishes it never happened, you don’t know what does.

“Morning, sweetheart. How’d you sleep?” Dean asks, and you frown at him just for a second, before you steel yourself and straighten your face so as not to give away your emotions.

“Fine. Though it looks like you’ve had a rough night,” you gesture to the empty bottle and walk over to the table and pick up your car keys.

“Couldn’t sleep. You want coffee?” He glances at you for the first time since you walked into the room, you notice.

“I have to go,” you say, not entirely lying.

“Sweetheart, I thought we were gonna talk about this? You promised me, good or bad,” Dean says and you can’t be sure, but it sounds like a plea rather than a question.

“And we will,” your voice betrays you with a tremble, and your eyes begin to water again. “But I can’t right now, okay?”

“Y/N, please! Don’t walk away from me on this! It’s too important. You’re too important.” You don’t need to wonder anymore, he’s begging.

“And I said I can’t right now, Dean!” You can’t keep your emotions in check any longer, and the tears fall regardless of whether you want them to or not. “I need some time with all of this, okay? It’s too much. And I’m meeting Jody soon. I’ll call you later, so why don’t you get some sleep now that I’m not in your bed,” you finish a little cruelly, wiping the tears from your eyes and walking out the front door.

You hear Dean shout something as you slam the door behind you. He’s quick to reach it, but you’re quicker to get to your car, and as he reaches the bottom step, you’re putting the car in drive and speeding away from the curb and him.

Meeting Jody for lunch was something you really didn’t want to do. After the day you’d had, curling up on the couch, drinking wine and feeling sorry for yourself sounded much more appealing. But you did promise her, and you could use some friendly advice right now, so here you are.

The waitress takes you to a table in the back corner next to a window, and you’re grateful it’s out the way a little so you have some privacy when you talk to your aunt about the complete fuck up your life has become in the past twenty four hours. It’s a small town; you don’t need everyone knowing you slept with your dead husband’s brother.

“Wow. That is not a happy face,” Jody winces as she sits down across from you. “Date didn’t go well, huh?”

“Opposite actually,” you sigh and Jody’s raised eyebrows are comical and make you laugh, breaking some of the tension.

“Is this a wine conversation?” She asks and you nod eagerly. “A bottle of Pinot and two glasses, please.” Jody requests from the waitress when she asks for your drinks order.

“So…” Jody starts, staring at you pointedly. “Are you gonna tell me what happened, or do I have to guess?” She smirks at your bitch face, but you quickly tell her everything; Jacob picking you up, being the perfect gentleman and having the perfect date, and the disastrous kiss.

And Dean.

“You slept with Dean?” Jody’s voice raises in volume and you quickly shush her.

“Yes, but I don’t want the whole town to know I slept with my dead husband’s brother!” You yell in a whispered tone. “And I don’t know where Dean and I stand with everything yet.”

“You didn’t talk about it?” Jody asks and you shake your head. “Y/N…”

“It’s complicated,” you add weakly. “When I woke up this morning, it was clear he hadn’t slept next to me. When I got up and saw his puffy eyes and the empty whiskey bottle on the table, I knew he regretted what happened, and I just wanted to get out of there. I needed some time to process everything.”

“Oh honey, that boy doesn’t regret anything, I guarantee it. I’d bet he feels the same as you. A little bit guilty and like he’s betrayed his brother. Maybe you too.”

“Me?” you question, “why would he betray me?”

“You showed up at his house late at night, upset, he calmed you down, kissed you, slept with you… he might think he’s betrayed your trust. Taken advantage of you.”

“You think?” You frown.

“I don’t know for sure, but what I do know is that he cares far too much about you to regret sleeping with you.”

You sit quietly and take in what Jody’s saying. You did feel a connection between you, something strong and tangible. And the way he looked at you is ingrained in your mind; you see it every time you close your eyes. Maybe Jody’s right.

“So tell me, how was he?” Jody grins.

“Jody!” You scold, shocked that she’d ask you that.

“What? You sleep with both Winchester boys and you expect me not to ask you that question?” She laughs, and you shake your head in disbelief.

“It was fine… well, it was better than fine, it was good… great really... and different…”

“Different? Is that your way of telling me Dean’s into some kinky shit?” She smirks, and you want to slap it right off her smug face.

“No! Well, at least I don’t think so,” you giggle and sit back, picking up the wine bottle and filling both glasses. “Sam was usually a little rough,” you smile fondly. “He was passionate and it showed in his lovemaking. Don’t get me wrong, he could be slow and sweet and gentle, but mostly it was carnal and desperate, you know? Like he couldn’t live without me and I was the most beautiful woman in the world,” you grin wider, lost in your memories.

“And Dean?” Jody smiles affectionately at you.

“The opposite. Slow, sweet and gentle. But it was no less passionate, and I felt no less wanted, no less beautiful, and a hundred percent woman! He knows exactly what he’s doing and I bet,” you smirk as you lean in and lower your voice slightly, “he’s got a little bit of rough in him too!” You laugh a little, but feel a sombreness coming over you.

“Wanna tell me your plan? What happens next?” Jody’s voice is soft and caring, and you sigh.

“That is a very good question. And one I don’t have the answer to.”

“You want my advice, honey?” Jody asks as she takes your hand in hers and you nod, always happy to hear what your aunt has to say. “Talk to Dean. Figure out together what last night was and what you’re gonna do now.”

You nod as you feel tears prick at your eyes for the hundredth time today. “Yeah, you’re right. We do need to talk about this. Good or bad,” you repeat Dean’s words to yourself more than to Jody.

“Now for the serious question,” Jody smirks and you roll your eyes. “Who’s got the bigger…”

“Jody!” You scold yet again, but laugh despite yourself.

“What? Are you telling me you didn’t compare them? Because, honey, it’s human nature!” She cackles at your shocked expression. “Oh no, wait! Let me guess!”

“Jesus,” your jaw drops open in shock and you shake your head in disbelief, though you make no real move to stop her.

“I’m gonna say Sam was bigger, but Dean’s got nothing to worry about,” Jody guesses and you laugh that she nailed it.

“Yeah, but it’s not always about being bigger in that sense, is it?” You tease and laugh that it’s now Jody who’s catching flies with her mouth hanging wide open.

“Alright, so Dean wins in thickness. I guess that’s not surprising,” Jody states as she pieces your meaning together quickly. “And that explains why you’ve spent most of the day perched on the edge of the seat, doesn’t it? Little sore over there, are ya?” She laughs mischievously and you descend into a fit of laughter with her.

When you both leave the restaurant, you stop in your tracks as you see Dean leaning against the hood of the Impala. Jody stops next to you and moves in close so that only you can hear her. “I called him when you went to the restroom. You need to talk to him, sooner rather than later. So, I asked if he’d come and take you home.”

“What about you? How will you get home?” You ask, not wanting to abandon her in the middle of town.

“Bobby’s just parking up across the street, he’ll take me home. Now, go with Dean; talk, figure this mess out,” Jody winks and wraps you in a hug. “I love ya, honey.”

“Love you too, Aunt Jody.”

You walk over to the Impala, and Dean automatically opens her passenger door for you.

“Hey,” you say as you climb into the car.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean smiles, but you can see the sadness in it and it makes you nervous about what comes next.

Next Chapter>>

@deans-spinster-witch @muchamusedaboutnothing @kazsrm67 @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @leigh70 @waynes-multiverse @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @chriszgirl92 @stoneyggirl2 @marilynnlew @ilovedean-spn2 @deans-baby-momma @acitygrownwillow @xxsovereignsarayaxx @frozenhuntress67 @lacilou @rach5ive @iprobablyshipit91

#the widow #18+#dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #smut #angst #tw: grief #tw: grieving

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butcherknives · 3 years

Text

frenzy.

Here’s the promised Part 2 to euphoria. Can be read separately. Please enjoy!

━ pairing M!Reader / Nero

━ warnings n s f w 🔞 spicy 🔥 minor (half-)Devil Trigger, and so much swearing

━ word count 1,600

You’ve led him to the mattress where Nero’s nude form cuts a beautiful picture while you draw your palms along his knees. You trace up over the swell of his muscular thighs and into the divot of his pelvis where his skin is impossibly warm. You wonder, not for the first time, what it might be like to bury yourself just beneath the surface.

There, encased in his warmth, you would be forbidden.

He rests his back against the sheets and offers you a cavalier grin that makes your heartbeat stutter. “Hey,” he says, nothing more. Your eyes are drawn to the swell of his ruddy lips while your hand coasts against the line of his hip.

“Hey,” you answer all the same.

The collision of his kiss steals the breath from your lungs. You drown in the whiskey heat, slotted together while you trace the waves of pleasure with your eyes closed and his arm around your shoulders. He's drawing you down and you're exhaling a laugh through your nose, delighted by his impatience. There's a burning in the way he laps at your teeth and coaxes your tongue while you grapple at the sheets. Your head spins and he wants you.

And you want him.

You shift to place your weight on your knees while his lips chase yours. You're slipping your hand between your bodies to encircle your fingers around his erection and fuck, Nero groans beneath you when you squeeze. You're set aflame. Your kiss follows the dip of his lips and down to the dimple in his chin, over the column of his neck to his clavicle where you listen to him sigh his pleasure. His hands are soft along your back. He coasts the lines of your body, leaving heat in the wake of his touch. You smile against his abdomen.

Your tongue slides along his shaft, your head gently pillowed between his thighs. His mouth is parted on soft breaths and as you observe the flutter of his snowy lashes, you’re coaxed further in. Your mouth encircles the tip of his erection and the dazzling hiss he exhales, the way his chest swells and back arches – you want to give him the bliss for which he yearns.

You swallow around him and spread your legs against the mattress. Flashes of lightning strike your core and bleed into your dick, and already you feel yourself growing hard in reply. As his moans strike the air, you undulate your hips into the bed in slow, easy rolls. The friction makes you see stars.

"Feels so good, babe,” he says on the wings of a shuddering breath. “So fucking good.”

Opening your jaw wider, you take his thick cock in as far as you’re able. It hits your tonsils and you pause, closing your eyes, willing yourself not to choke while you steady your breathing through your nose. Your saliva drips past your lips. You suckle and swallow around his skin.

“Shit...”

When you’re ready, you work him deeper. Deeper until your eyes roll into the back of your head; until your throat clenches and you have to steady your cough. Then you’re back up to his cockhead with a slick pop, dripping, leaking slime while he inhales a shaking gasp.

You’re swallowing the mess you’ve made when you feel him leaning forward to gently guide your mouth to his. You hum into the kiss. His tongue tastes the velvet of your cheeks and follows the ridges in the roof of your mouth, and you ground your hold on his shoulders.

“I wanna fuck you.” You groan at his husky words. “Can I?”

And who are you to deny him when you want him, too?

You’ve slicked his cock with lubricant and slid your fingers into yourself to gauge your entrance. He’s sitting on the edge of the mattress with his hand extended toward you, and when you take it, he curls his fingers between yours and draws you into his orbit.

He’s smiling at you yet in the haze of hazel, you can see a flicker of ferocity. “Sit in my lap,” he’s telling you, his lips feathered against yours. “I wanna see you.” He inclines his chin behind you and you follow his gaze to the dresser where just above, the mirror reflects your image.

Your heart thrums with excitement.

With your back to his chest, you guide his straining dick to the line of your ass. He pushes in. Your mouth opens, eyes rolling with the heady pain-pleasure. He works himself in, his forearm pressed into your breastbone to hold you against him and you’re powerless against him the way that you like. When he’s buried inside, when you’re full and aching, he catches your eyes in the mirror. His stare is dark. His palm traces your skin and his possession has you moaning his name.

“Look at yourself,” he says into your ear, humid with gravel that sizzles carbonation in your gut. You clench around him. His eyes fall shut only for a moment before he snorts a quiet laugh. “Yeah, you like this?” and he’s dragging his tongue along your neck, giving you shallow thrusts that make you shudder.

You can see the way you flush with need and shit, you watch him watching you. He’s irrevocably handsome. Celestial. The way the sunlight filters through his white hair; the sharp angle of his jaw; his powerful hands pressing into your skin.

At this moment, you are his.

“Please,” you murmur as you tilt your head back to lean against his temple.

You can feel the stretch of his smile. “Please what?”

“Fuck me.” He hums his delight and you wrap your arm behind his head to clutch at those short strands. In your desperation, your voice grows insistent; your tone pitches higher. “Fuck me, Nero. Fuck me.”

Nero grips your hip and stands. You puff your surprise, and as your hand falls away to reach for the dresser, you glance at your reflection. He’s looking back at you. Your heart catches in your throat.

He fucks you the way you beg.

His hand is pressed beside yours, the other squeezing your hip. His body is stretched over yours, long, lean, and you struggle to watch through the tears fogging your vision. You can’t help but look even as the mirror jumps with his thrusts.

“How’s it feel, sweetheart?” he says into your ear. Your skin is scorching. “Do you see how beautiful you are for me?”

You can’t find the words. Your head drops between your shoulders while you hang on. Nero exhales a breathy chuckle and hooks his arms through yours, yanking you up with a tug. You keen. Fuck, he’s so deep. He stuffs you at just the right angle to render you blind with pleasure. Oh, but you can’t stop looking at your reflection. The way your expression contorts or how your straining erection bounces with the crash of his hips. You grit your teeth and burn. And burn. And burn in the onslaught of ecstasy.

His eyes flicker. They shine golden, bathed in oranges and reds. His pupils narrow to serpent slits. His thrusts grow powerful, jagged with brutality. He’s slamming into you, rocking you onto the balls of your feet, and as you pitch forward, he pulls you back up. His arm snakes around you once more to cup your chin in his hand, to tilt your head to the side, and nip at the sensitive flesh dipping beneath your ear.

You notice the tinge of blue at his fingertips; the elongated claws that lightly bite your skin beneath the rough wave of scales; the halo of ghostly azure wings at his back.

His reflection is starving.

You are at his divine mercy.

There’s movement in the mirror that catches your eye. His spectral claws flare and lower and you’re mesmerized, trapped in the image of his wings reaching for your legs. You gasp. He lifts you until your toes barely brush the carpet and here, he peels you wide open. Those searing fingers dig into the meat of your thighs while you claw at his long hair.

He’s buried to the hilt. The sound of his growl and your sex is obscene in the silence. You watch your chest heave before you come undone and when you call his name, it’s with a sharp cry.

You sink into oblivion and drown in the flash of candied thrill.

Nero’s sharp teeth cut into your shoulder, and while you quiver, tears spilling out of the corner of your eyes, he slams into you. His claws nick your skin and he’s telling you he’s going to come. He’s going to come. Oh. “Fuck,” he groans. “Oh my god.”

Rope after rope of sticky cum pools inside of you while your throat clicks around ragged breaths. You shudder in your delirium.

“Shit...” he murmurs. You feel your feet touch back down but you’re focused solely on the feeling of Nero holding you in his arms. Gathering you close. Kissing your temple. “Damn.”

Cotton warmth settles in your veins. “Yeah...”

He smiles at you in the mirror. You smile back.

And as he spills onto the bed at your back, the weightlessness of the fall kicks a shiver of adrenaline within you, and you laugh. You laugh and bury your face into the crook of his neck while he runs his palms along your back in soothing circles.

“I love you,” he says.

His words melt like candle wax.

“Good,” you tell him with a brush of a kiss. “I love you, too, Nero.”

#devil may cry #nero #male reader #dmc nero #all purpose writing tag #putting this up on ao3 with part 1 #anyway please let me know if you enjoy

101 notes · View notes

slightlymore · 4 years

Note

I am not sure if you taking requests, feel free to ignore if not but maybe if you could write a one shot on giving Jaehyun massage (full body massage with happy ending), thanks in advance. I am literally blushing now, but I really love the way you write. Thank you once again 🙆‍♀️

The massage is not really full body (i dont even know how people give massages lol 😔) but it does have a happy ending!! 🥵

"Okay, you're right," Jaehyun said with a smile.

He was sitting on the edge of the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist, hands kneading his neck muscles.

"I think you need a massage, " you threw it there seeing him tense just minutes before that. Jaehyun had just come home from work and he looked hotter more tired than usual. He sighed at your observation.

"I am fine," he breathed out again, and you noticed the way he tried not to look at you.

"Come here," you patted the couch between your legs indicating to him to sit down there. "I'll help you out," you added, doing massage motions with your hands.

Jaehyun stopped unbuttoning his shirt as if surprised. His eyes gazed on your face then your body as if considering if it was a good idea or not. Then he shook his head resuming nudging at his wrists buttons.

"Come on," you encouraged him. "I'm good at it. Just try it for a second".

He sighed again trying hard not to roll his eyes at you as if doing you a favour and walked towards you, sitting on the spot you indicated. You smiled widely and placed your hands on his shoulders, wrapping his sides with your legs.

Jaehyun looked in front of him as if slightly awkward. You two considered yourself good friends having shared the flat for almost a year now, and touching each other wasn't that weird, but still, it wasn't common either.

"Take this off", you ordered nudging at his button-down and Jaehyun scoffed finishing to unbutton his shirt. You made an effort not to breathe in sharply.

"I'm going to make you feel really good," you promised, placing your palms on his shoulders and starting to press your thumbs into your flatmate's iron muscles. Jaehyun's skin got goosebumps as soon as your fingers scratched his skin.

You chuckled.

"Are you cold?" you asked, knowing damn well that it wasn't the case at all.

Jaehyun didn't reply knowing that you were clowning him and just breathed in and out trying to keep in all the sounds his throat wanted to make.

You bit your lower lip and raised yourself on your knees, massaging his shoulders even deeper until you heard the faintest moan leaving his lips.

"Does this feel good?" you asked amused.

"Actually", he started, "it's rather painful", he finished. "But I like it", he added after a little pause. You looked at the way his jaw muscles tightened and you let your hands slide down along his spine.

"Hmm," you hummed pleased. "So you're into that kind of stuff, huh?" you joked but Jaehyun's muscles stiffened in surprise. He let his head fall back to be able to look at your face and you looked down at him as well. His hair slowly let his forehead show by sliding around his furrowed eyebrows. He was confused but amused at the sudden flirt and you could swear that he was about to kiss you.

"I think we can end the massage session here," he said instead. His voice was so deep and commanding that your hands stopped by themselves. You stared at each other for a few seconds more.

"You're still so stiff though," you commented.

"I'm alright," Jaehyun replied straightening his head and grabbing his shirt.

You smiled.

"I wasn't talking about your shoulders," you whispered leaning on him until pressing your chest on his back. Your hands brushed his skin, feeling the outline of his clavicles, then down until feeling his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. One of it stopped there while the other palmed his abs, going down until your fingers met what you anticipated.

"I was talking about this," you added, lips brushing his ear, feeling the way Jaehyun's hardened cock twitched under your touch.

He looked down at his crotch and raised one hand. You thought that he was about to remove yours but he pressed in on top of it instead, making you jolt. Grabbing your hand he made you palm his whole length, slowly, letting you feel the way it hardened after each stroke.

You gulped surprised at his sudden shamelessly.

"What?" he murmured amused turning his head to see your face. "You've got no more force?" he teased you then grabbing your wrist he dragged your body from behind him to sit beside him instead. You let him do that and watched as Jaehyun rested his back on the couch comfortably. Your wrist was still in his hand and without breaking eye contact he tugged at it again, this time making it slide past the fabric of his bottoms.

"Come on, you said it yourself. I'm so- stiff," his teeth tightening on his lower lip while pronouncing the fs almost biting it down.

You looked at the way his hand pressed on yours and you found yourself panting. You got closer to have a better grip until your knees touched his thigh and you just freed it from his pants, letting it slap on his lower stomach once. His skin was very hot under your fingertips and you wrapped them around his cock without thinking.

"Have you been having such problems for a long time?" you inquired, getting your senses back.

Jaehyun hummed pleased. "Only when you're around," he replied.

You cursed under your breath feeling your core dripping.

"And what have you been doing?" you went on with the play as your trembling hand started to pump his cock slowly. Jaehyun looked down to watch and bit his lower lip, still refusing to let you hear a single moan.

"I've been taking care of it myself," he said then looked back at your face, "thinking about you," he added lowering his tone.

You whimpered at his words as if he was the one pleasuring you and not the other way around and he definitely saw it.

"Fuck Jaehyun," you picked up the pace breaking the character. "I'm going to make you moan for me," you breathed heavily and Jaehyun chuckled.

"You'll have to work harder than this," he acted nonchalantly even if it was obvious that he was about to break.

And when you let yourself down, pressing your hands on his thigh and taking his cock inside your mouth until its tip hit the back of your throat he swore as you've never heard him before. Not letting him a single second to breathe, you bobbed your head up and down a few times before adding your hand to the base again, licking the slit, raising your gaze to meet his, daring him to keep silent.

His mouth was slightly open and his dark eyes partially covered by his ruffled hair. Swearing again he looked at the way you raised your body to sit on all fours.

He couldn't keep his hands still.

When he reached your thighs you shivered on his cock and when his hand slid between your legs you moaned on it, eyes shut, unable to go on.

Your wetness was already coating his fingers as if he has been touching you for hours and you let him slide out of your mouth with a wet plop.

You heard him chuckle and shifting. When you opened your eyes suddenly not feeling his fingers on your clit anymore, his hand was making your bottoms slide down your ass. You helped him by kicking the fabric off your legs and followed his nudging as he dragged you by your sides to straddle his lap. You sat on his thighs placing your hands on his shoulders to sustain yourself and let your head fall back as he violently squeezed your breasts into his hands.

"Let me fuck you, Y/N," his deep voice made your body tremble and you didn't make him repeat that twice. Leaning towards him you indulged in having his hot breath on your cleavage making your skin shiver.

"You're even wearing my t-shirt, I'm noticing this now," he murmured pleased as one of his hands directed his cock towards your pulsing core.

"What have you been looking at before then?" you wondered amused, convinced he noticed it as soon as he entered the room.

"Mm," he faked thinking about it for a few seconds, making your jolt by brushing his tip around your entrance. "I've been looking at the way your nipples were poking through the shirt instead," he added filling you all up with a grunt. Your fingers gripped his shoulders while a high moan escaped your lips, digging them deep into his muscles.

"You were right, you're making me feel so fucking good right now," his voice caressed your ears as you let yourself go.

#jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #what is this? slightlymore writing?#👁️👁️👁️👁️#nct imagines #nct scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios

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fckinsupreme · 3 years

Note

That ask about Duncan and face timing in lingerie, but pres Duncan and...well I had a twist in mind but I spaced out, so basically, anything /risqué/ with president Duncan please!

New York City was illuminated against the sky, with the skyscraper lights and pink hue of dusk reflecting against the clouds. From your hotel room, you could see most of the city’s famous landmarks, and it was the best view in the world to you. It was a far cry from those you got in Washington D.C., from the monuments and rose gardens that were your new normal. Being First Lady had its perks, but living in a place with some of the most rewarding views didn’t seem to be one of them.

President Duncan Shepherd was sitting out on the balcony, smoking a cigar. You were getting ready for the dinner you were set to attend with him later in the evening, and you were in nothing but the lingerie you wanted to wear beneath your dress. A purple & black bra and panties, equipped with a black garter belt, black thigh highs, and purple garters was framing your body, and you wanted to give Duncan a quick preview. You thought it went perfectly with the purple dress and black shoes you would be wearing tonight, and you wanted to show him to have a little peek before you put the dress on.

You open the door leading from your room to the balcony, and Duncan turns to get a quick look. He immediately does a double take, the cigar paused before it reaches his lips again. A low growl comes from his throat as the smoke curls from his nose, and you can’t help but smirk at him. You do a quick little twirl so he can see the full ensemble, wanting him to get a glimpse of it from all sides. He stands up, putting the cigar down before walking over to you.

“Wow, that looks fantastic on you,” Duncan breathes, the smell of cigar trailing after him as he starts to kiss your neck. “The light of dusk makes you look even more perfect, princess.”

You moan as he sucks on the most sensitive area, eyes fluttering as a lazy smile forms on your lips. “Careful, Mr. President,” you breathe. “You’re gonna get me going before dinner if you keep that up.”

“You’ve already got me /me/ going,” he growls, teeth dragging along your clavicle as your breath hitches. “Would it be a bad thing to fuck before we go?”

“No,” you say. “Not at all.”

Duncan comes up, capturing your lips in a hot kiss. You groan softly, pressing your chest fully against his as you start grinding against him. His tongue swipes yours, one hand fisted tightly in your hair as you feel how hard he is through his pants. You grab his white button-up shirt, holding him close to you as you grind along his erection. He growls against your lips, pulling back after a moment before you immediately drop to your knees in front of him. He gives a nod as you gaze at him in wonder, and you tug his cock free from the dark grey dress pants he was wearing.

“You do realize if someone would happen to see us, you’re going to cause quite the headline in the New York Post tomorrow,” he teases, gently brushing some hair behind your ear as you gently kiss his shaft.

“I don’t give a shit,” you say with a soft laugh, your eyes on his as your tongue plays with his tip. You kitten-lick the slit, your tongue tracing the outline of the head after. “Do you?”

“Nope,” he says, hissing as you pull his pants down fully around his ankles, mouth all over his balls. He pulls your hair impatiently, shaking his head. “Don’t tease me. You have a job to do, princess; do it.”

You purr softly, opening your mouth and slowly taking his throbbing cock into your mouth. You move down until he’s at the back of your throat, gagging around him as you try to swallow. Duncan moans, one hand winding in your hair as your eyes meet. You mewl around him, drawing your head up a little before pushing back down. You take your time, not setting a rapid pace yet, despite Duncan’s visible impatience with the speed you’re working. He tries to push his hips forward to thrust, but you place both hands on them and give him a warning glance as you continue to bob your head.

“Stop holding back,” he hisses, yanking your hair roughly as you moan in response. “You know I hate it when you’re a teasing little brat like this.”

You whine, but decide to indulge him. You gradually pick up the pace, cheeks hollowing as you meet his gaze. One hand keeps hold of his hip, the other moving down to squeeze his balls before your finger reaches around. You part his cheeks, the tip of your finger running over the rim of his ass as his hips stutter forward in response. You wink at him, and he yanks you forcefully from his cock as he begins twitching in your mouth.

“No,” he says, delicately wiping some drool from your chin. “I want to cum inside of you, princess. Stand up.”

You do as you’re told, although you’re reluctant. All you wanted was to keep sucking his cock for a little while longer, but he had other plans for you. He helps you into a standing position, before walking you to the balcony’s railing and spinning you around to face the city. He tugs your panties to the side, his fingers running through the wetness there before he pushes his cock inside of you with a loud, hot moan in your ear. You echo him, hands gripping the railing as he sinks fully inside of you.

He starts thrusting deeply, keeping them shallow as one arm winds around your torso. The other is pulling your bra straps down, sucking the skin on your shoulders before both hands free your breasts of the cups. He massages them, holding you to his body as his hips work rhythmically. You rock against him, moaning as your hair tumbles into your eyes, face contorted in pleasure. He kneads your tits, mouth on the back of your neck as his lips explore the skin there.

“I want you to scream my name,” Duncan hisses in your ear, rotating his hips a little before snapping them quickly. “Call me Mr. President, baby. I want everyone in the adjacent rooms to hear you.”

Duncan begins drilling into your G-spot, and you moan as loudly as you possibly can. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise, your eyes on the skyline of the city for a moment before you glance around. Some people are coming out on their own balconies, and the guests closest to you watch in wide-eyed shock. You don’t ask Duncan to stop, nor do you make a scene about it. You just wink at them, and turn to look at Duncan with a wicked smirk.

“We have company,” you whisper, making eye contact with an attractive man who had frosted blond hair, big blue eyes, and a cross earring dangling from one ear. He didn’t seem to have any guest with him, and if he did, they were hanging out inside, uninterested in the scene unfolding outside. There was also something familiar about him, but you couldn’t put your finger on it then. “Look at that handsome one, Mr. President. He can’t stop looking at us.”

Duncan shoots the man a glance, keeping his gaze on him as he waves. “Wanna take a turn on her?” he calls to him, and the man blushes darkly. He turns to walk back inside, but Duncan stops him. “Wait! I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Stay. Watch.”

The man seems conflicted about what to do, hesitating with his hand on the knob. He finally decides to stay, sitting on his balcony and watching the show the two of you are putting on. Duncan shifts so that you can both see the stranger, and it’s still evident that he’s shocked about what he’s witnessing. Who wouldn’t be, though? Watching the most powerful man in the Free World drilling his wife on a hotel balcony? You wonder, amusedly, if he had voted for Duncan or was a supporter of his. From the looks of things, and how he was squeezing his hands to keep from touching himself, you guessed it didn’t even matter to him.

“What’s your name, cutie?” you call to him, moaning hotly as Duncan pulls you up to kiss your neck, still slamming into you as he does so.

“Xavier, ma’am!” he calls back. “I’m X-Xavier Plympton!”

That’s when it hit you who he was. “Oh, my God! You’re that really famous actor! The one who was in that mafia movie with—“

“That’s me!” Xavier calls back, his eyes taking in the ensemble you’re wearing. “And you’re the most famous people /ever/ right now! You—“

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Xavier,” Duncan interrupts, making eye contact with him as he pins you to the balcony, holding your head down as he picks up speed. The sound of slapping skin and your moans echo all around, and more people come out to see what’s going on. “How would you like to join this little party?”

Xavier’s cheeks turn bright red, and he averts his eyes for a moment. When he looks back up, you’re close to your orgasm and Duncan is twitching inside of you. “Okay!” Xavier says finally. “I...I mean, if you’re serious—“

“I am,” Duncan says, pulling out of you before either of you have a chance to cum. He waits a few minutes before tucking his cock back into his slacks, grinning at the two of you.

“Why did you stop?” you whine, panting heavily as you look back at Duncan. He puts your panties back in place, patting your ass as he does so.

“Because, princess,” he says, pulling your back against his torso before kissing your ear, pointing over at Xavier as he does so, “we are gonna wait until after our dinner tonight. Xavier is going to join in on the fun, and I want us to wait for him. Would you like that, Mr. Plympton?”

You had never seen someone nod so eagerly in your entire life.

———————

Baby taglist: @littledemondani @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @leatherduncan @melodylangdon @dark-mei-rose @littlegirlsdontplaynice @whatcodysaid @blakewaterxx @xavierplympton @bitchchatter @frenchlangdon

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd blurb #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd imagine

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robertsheehanownsmyass · 3 years

Note

Hiya! Hopefully its not too late to submit? Could I request a Halloween smut fic with Nathan x f reader please? Thank you so much :D

https:(://)gifer(dot)com/en/5F49

Sheehanoween!

Champagne Buzz

Nathan Young x Fem!Reader Warnings: so much smut. swearing, drinking...more smut Note: I envisioned this as an AU to when they got rich after disclosing their powers. Maybe it could have turned out better if that jealous dairy prick hadn’t ruined everything for them. I suppose we’ll never know, but this fic might help you revel in that idea if only for a short while.

Nathan and the rest of the ASBO gang had been invited to attend a Halloween party at a posh club on the top floor of one of the nicer local hotels. The party had a masquerade theme, so it was mandatory to dress in formal attire and wear fancy masks. Nathan wore a black tuxedo, and his mask was a midnight blue accented with whirls of metallic copper, covering only his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Somehow it accentuated his green eyes beautifully and they shimmered like emeralds under the lights of the club. You chose a body-hugging floor-length black satin dress, and your masquerade mask was gold and accentuated with a peacock feather. When Nathan saw you walk into the club, he whistled. “Babe,” he said. “You look good enough to eat, and I intend to do precisely that later.”

“Promise?” you said, tipping your head back to give him a kiss.

You danced for hours. You danced so much that you had to kick off your heels, placing you at a distinct height disadvantage with Nathan, but you made it work. By the time the party came to a close, everyone was quite thoroughly blitzed.

You all made your way down to the second floor indoor pool area, some with their arms slung over companions’ shoulders, others still gripping bottles of champagne. Fourteen floors was a lot of stairs for drunk people, so the majority of you crammed into elevators, giggling and acting like teenagers. You had become separated from Nathan when you got onto one of the elevators; you didn’t even realize he wasn’t there until after the doors had closed. He must have had to wait for another one.

You burst out laughing when you entered the pool area. Some of your group had already gotten there, but the sight of Curtis lounging on a pool float in nothing but black boxer briefs, black socks, and his black tie gave you the fits. You slipped away to strip down to your matching black satin bra and panties, and you put on a white terrycloth robe and returned to the pool room.

A few minutes later, the stairwell door burst open and Nathan sauntered out. He had his suit jacket off, his vest undone, and his shirt was unbuttoned almost to the bottom of his sternum. His tie was untied and was draped around his neck like a scarf. He had his jacket slung over one shoulder and held a bottle of champagne in his hand.

“There you are!” he slurred, grinning. You laughed.

“You took the stairs? You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck in that state!”

“I’m immortal!” he retorted with the air of a misguided hero. Then, belatedly, he noticed you were wearing a robe. "What’re you doing!? Have you got any knickers on?!“ He had attempted to whisper, but really ended up shouting it instead. Several heads turned in your direction.

"Will you hush! I’m wearing my underwear. It’s fine.”

“Oooh,” he said, lifting the bottom flap of your robe to peek at you. You smacked his hand away.

“You’ll see soon enough. Now go put the bits of your suit you don’t want to ruin someplace safe.”

‘Someplace safe’ ended up being the back of a lounge chair, but you figured it would do.

The sounds of splashing indicated that people were enjoying the pool, but you were more interested in getting a drink, so you went to the cabana bar to get one. You returned to the pool area and sat in the chair next to Kelly. You smiled at her and lifted your glass. "Cheers!“

She smiled back and clinked your glass with hers. You both drank, and she sighed. "I’m so glad we finally have some fuckin’ money.”

“Hell yeah,” you chuckled. “As long as it doesn’t go to Nathan’s head.”

Kelly laughed. “Fat chance o’ that. Look at him.” She gestured toward Nathan, who was attempting to carry five more bottles away from the bar without dropping one.

You laughed in earnest, watching him contort himself to bring the bottles back to the pool successfully. “Well,” you said, “at least we can enjoy it for a little while.”

You and Kelly chatted and drank for a few minutes, enhancing your buzz.

"Now,” you announced, standing up. "I think the time has come to jump in this fucking pool.“

She laughed, and stood up with you. "That sounds like a great fucking plan.”

You shed your robe, and she stripped off her dress, revealing a red strapless bra and matching bikini knickers.

“After you?” You gestured to the pool.

“No way– on three,” she laughed. "One…two….three!“

Together, you ran and jumped into the pool. You surfaced, laughing. Other people squealed in surprise at your sudden entry. You scanned the room and found Nathan, who had been sitting and talking to Simon. He was looking at you with his mouth open. You hooked a finger toward him in invitation. He stood up, peeled of his shirt and pushed his trousers down. He kicked off his shoes and socks and stood in nothing but dark blue boxer briefs. He ran and did a cannonball, sending water flying everywhere. He surfaced, shaking his head.

"Dammit Nathan!” Curtis yelled, dumping out the rest of his champagne that he had been sipping as he floated. Nathan’s splash had filled the glass almost to the brim with pool water. “Prick!”

“Sorry man,” Nathan called.

You swam over to him and wrapped your legs around his lower torso and your arms around his neck. "The water feels nice, doesn’t it?” You asked.

“Oh yeah it does.” He said, before bending his head to kiss you deeply and thoroughly. After a moment, you heard a series of theatrical retching noises.

“Blah, get a room, will ya!” Alicia shouted.

You spent the next two hours having the time of your life. The drinks and the laughter were flowing, and there was a celebratory atmosphere that was infectious. An overwhelming sense of pride at what the group had accomplished by telling the truth about their powers mingled with the relief of it all finally being out in the open.

Later, Nathan and you sat in robes, nuzzling each other at the cabana bar. "Will you come to my room tonight?“ Nathan purred.

"Oh yes,” you replied without any hesitation, making him chuckle. He bent to plant kisses along your clavicle, causing you to break out into gooseflesh.

“Well, what’re we waiting for?” he asked, and the two of you gathered up your things, said goodbye to everyone, and slipped out.

You ran to the elevator, and once inside, attacked each other again. You exited the elevator in this fashion, still kissing and groping one another, heedless of being spotted. It felt like you waited an eternity for him to fish out his key card one-handed and successfully unlock his room door.

One he got the door unlocked, he scooped you up and you squealed and giggled as he carried you into the room. He carried you straight back to the bed, and he threw you down onto it. He looked down at you with a fierce expression; you were about to get fucked, and you couldn’t wait.

He grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you toward him so your ass was right at the edge of the bed. He pulled your knickers off of you, tossing them somewhere absentmindedly. You were completely exposed from the waist down, and you could feel the heat and moisture of your excitement take root.

He ripped off his robe and pushed his boxer briefs down, throwing them aside. You smiled salaciously at the sight of his cock. Nathan reached between your legs and lightly brushed your wetness with his fingertips.

“Oooh,” he cooed. "You’re excited, aren’t ye darlin’?“

"Fuck yes,” you said, breathlessly.

He sank down and knelt before you, him on the floor and you at the edge of the bed. He spread your legs wide and moved in to taste your cunt. You gasped as he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue, circling first, then lapping up the length of your slit. He buried his head in deeper, increasing the pressure, and you arched your back and entwined your fingers into his curls. You panted and moaned as he lavished your sex with his tongue, and you cried out as your climax started to build. He closed his lips around your clit and sucked, sending you over the edge, and you rode out your first orgasm with your legs shaking.

“Oh god,” you breathed, and he stood, fixing you with heavy lidded eyes, licking your moisture from his lips.

“Did ye like that?” he said, his voice hoarse with arousal.

“Yes,” you said. “I need your cock Nathan,” you whined.

Wordlessly, he gripped his cock at the base and thrust it into you roughly. You gasped and arched your back at the shock of him filling you so suddenly. He held you by the ankles and repeatedly slammed into you, his hips slapping against your ass audibly. He was not being gentle tonight, and that suited you more than fine.

He grunted softly as he pounded you roughly, and you cried out loudly as your next orgasm overtook you suddenly and powerfully. You felt your walls pulsing tightly against his shaft as the waves of ecstasy washed over you, and every other muscle in your body seized up as if you had just been electrocuted. You gripped the blankets on either side of you tightly as you screamed.

Without warning, he withdrew from you, knelt down again, and assaulted your clit once more with his tongue. The sensation of his tongue on you so soon after your climax was almost more than you could handle. Your nerves were so sensitive that he sent you over the edge again almost immediately, your hips bucking as you clawed at his hair. You felt him chuckle softly against your thigh before he stood up again.

He grabbed your hips and flipped you over without uttering a single word or command. He climbed onto the bed and positioned himself behind you, and thrust himself back in. He banged you thoroughly in this manner for quite some time while you screamed and buried your face in the pillow. Again and again you came; never before had you ever known such pleasure.

"Nathan!” you screamed. "Fuck! God!“ The only thing your mind seemed to be capable of was screaming his name or swearing. You were so loud, that you were positive the occupant of the next room was most likely wide awake and hearing everything. Fortunately, you didn’t give a shit.

Finally Nathan came, and he exploded into you with a moan, and you could feel his balls twitch against the back of your ass as he pumped his load into you. He ground his hips against yours one last time as he finished, and collapsed to the side, breathing heavily.

"Oh…my…god…” he panted. It was the first thing he had said in a while.

You flopped down next to him, your limbs completely spent. "You’re telling me. God Nathan. How do you do that?“

He chuckled softly. "You know I sometimes wonder if I gained some extra fuck power from the storm. My stamina is off the charts.” He spoke the words almost as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

You laughed. "I am certainly not complaining.”

Before too long, the two of you fell fast asleep as you lay together; naked, limbs entwined, happy, champagne-drunk, and totally fucked into oblivion.

#nathan young x reader #misfits fic #robert sheehan character fic #sheehanoween #smut

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minchanslut · 4 years

Text

Mine - Hwang Hyunjin

It was unlike your boyfriend to act like this. Jaws clenched as he stood beside you, almost grimacing at your friend’s mere presence. Moments prior your friend had placed his hand on your shoulder, which lingered on the exposed skin a little too long for Hyunjin’s liking. The action, having left a somewhat bitter taste behind, caused him to move closer to you, his arm resting on your side. He tried not to let the situation bother him, but the way the male before you’s eyes scanned your body made him feel restless. You, being blissfully unaware of your boyfriend’s increasingly sour mood, continued to gleefully engage in the conversation all while Hyunjin’s eyes relentlessly assaulted your friend with daggers. Hyunjin was delighted once you had finally concluded your conversation and bid your farewells, wasting no time in releasing your side from his grip only to clutch your hand in his, putting on a faux smile as he dragged you away from your friend. Once outside he caught you by surprise, cradling your face in his large hands as he planted a gentle kiss on your lips. He smiled at your flustered reaction, shooting a compliment your way before leaning in for another kiss, this time one much more intimate. His thumb grazed over the soft skin of your cheek whilst his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, slipping in easily once you granted him access. He pulled you in close, one hand traveling down and resting itself right between the small of your back and your bottom. You felt yourself melt into the kiss, not knowing that Hyunjin now had his eyes open and was once again glaring at your friend from outside the cafe window. Though the look in his eyes was intense, they were very different than just moments before. They were no longer filled with jealousy, but rather satisfaction. Almost as if to prove to the bitter male that he could never have you. Breathless, you broke away from the kiss, your arms still slung around his shoulders as you quietly suggested that you go home.

After the stunt Hyunjin had pulled you were convinced that he would ravish you the moment you had stepped foot in the house. That he’d have you pinned against the door, lips attached to your neck and your legs wrapped around his waist, yet you received nothing of the sort. Hours had passed and he made no attempt to continue what he had initiated earlier that day. Hyunjin noticed your fidgety demeanor, having caught you stealing glances at him multiple times. Your gaze drifted over his figure, stopping only to admire his features. How his arm would flex as he brushed the hair out of his face and how his untied sweatpants hung low on his waist. Your eyes were focused on his fingers as they idly assisted him in scrolling through his phone. The simple movement had you wishing his fingers were trailing up your skin instead, leaving goosebumps behind and making your breath hitch. You caught his attention by snuggling up to him on his lap, your head laying on his chest and your hand tracing up and down his thigh. While your actions seemed innocent, your words proved otherwise. Without daring to look up at him you muttered, almost whimpered

“Hyunnie, I need you.”

He looked down at your still concealed face with a cocked eyebrow as he feigned ignorance. He pulled you closer continuing to act coy and stating that he was right there. You rolled your eyes at him and pushed your doubts aside, adjusting yourself so that you were now straddling him. Your fingers found themselves wrapped around the hairs at the back of his head as you leaned in and captured his lips with your own. He nipped at your bottom lip slightly before sliding his tongue into your mouth while his hands kept themselves occupied with the hem of your shirt. His lips moved down your jaw, kissing and sucking at the skin of your neck and paying extra attention to the specific spot that made you squirm. He pulled away only to tug your shirt over your head and lay you down on the couch. Though brief, the lack of contact caused you to whimper, earning a smirk from Hyunjin. Proud that he managed to get you in such a state he decided to see how much farther he could go before you break.

“Oh, baby, do you really need me that badly?”

You replied with a nod, which left him unsatisfied and caused him to retort “Hmm, you can’t be bothered to use your words so I don’t think you need me as much as you claim.”

“No, no, please I want- I need you so bad.”

He only hummed in response, his head dipping as he continued to place wet kisses down your clavicle and chest. He stopped inches above your nipple, his hot breath making goosebumps form on the supple skin. He remained in that position for a few seconds, giggling at your lack of patience. It only took an almost inaudible “Please” from you to have him finally wrap his lips around your nipple, his tongue swirling around it and causing you to sigh in relief. He rolled your other nipple between his fingers, pinching them before releasing the one occupying his mouth with a loud pop and moving on to the other. He placed open mouth kisses down your stomach while simultaneously tugging at your pants which you kicked off once they were halfway down your legs.

Hyunjin ran his hands up and down your now exposed thighs, his nails dragging against your skin slightly. He let out a low groan at the sight of the wet patch on your panties.

“You’re so wet for me, baby. Would you like me to do something about that?”

You could only whine at his words, your legs trembling as you softly begged for him to touch you. Luckily your pleas were not left unheard as Hyunjin licked a stripe up your clothed heat. His lips found themselves on your thighs as he kissed his way back up to your stomach. He called out for you, instructing you to meet his gaze as his teeth hooked themselves onto the waistband of your underwear, removing them and not once breaking eye contact. In one swift move he placed your legs over his shoulders, his tongue delving into your wet pussy as his nose pressed against your clit. He was quick to replace his tongue with a finger, his mouth now occupied with your clit as he pumped his finger in and out of you. Hyunjin heard you whisper what he could make out as “more”. Your desperation made his cock twitch in his pants, he ached to hear you beg more.

“If you want more you’re gonna have to ask nicely. Beg for me, baby.”

His movements slowed down until he finally got what he wanted. You were bucking your hips against him, repeatedly muttering please and begging him to move faster. He finally complied, pumping a total of two, and eventually three fingers into you all while he still had his lips wrapped around your clit. Your legs began to shake as you neared your orgasm, your heels digging into his shoulder blades and your hands almost awkwardly flailing around searching for something to grab onto, your fingers weaving themselves into his smooth locks before falling back on the couch.

Hyunjin hummed against you, the vibration making your hips buckle, slowing down his movements to speak.

"It's okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I'm between your legs."

Almost as if on command, your fingers found their way back into his tresses, tugging at them with each stroke of his finger. Your moans got louder as he drove you closer to your orgasm, his encouraging words telling you to cum for him serving as additional fuel. Hyunjin admired how your chest heaved and your body shook as he helped you ride out your high, licking up your juices as he showered you with praise. He pressed one more kiss on your thigh before disappearing around the corner only to return shortly after in just his boxers and a silver packet in his hands. He discarded his underwear allowing his hardened member to spring free and slap against his lower stomach. He stroked himself a few times as he put on the condom and rested between your legs. The act of rubbing the head of his cock against your slit made you whimper and once more beg for him for the utmost time that day. You welcomed him despite the sensitivity as he captured your moans in his mouth. He kissed you softly as he slowly slid into you before bottoming out completely. He quickened his pace once you were comfortable, your nails dragging against his back, leaving bright red lines along the skin. He rested his forehead against yours allowing him to look you in the eyes.

“You’re so beautiful, my baby. Mine, all mine.”

Hyunjin removed one of your legs from his side and placed this one over his shoulder, allowing for better access. The new position had you seeing stars, crying out as you announced to him that you were close. The feeling of your pussy clenching around him caused Hyunjin to falter a bit. He quickly regained his composure, his head thrown back as sweat dripped down his chest. He groaned loudly as he came, his movements slowing down but not coming to a complete stop in an attempt to help you reach your second climax. He had his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves. It didn’t take long for you to come undone, panting as he pulled out of you while holding onto the base of his cock. He returned after disposing of the used condom, laying on top of you and causing you to whine at how his sweaty body stuck onto yours. Squeezing into the small space next to you he wrapped his arms around your almost limp body, placing a chaste kiss on the side of your face and whispered

“My pretty baby.”

#hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz hyunjin smut #hyunjin scenarios #stray kids hyunjin smut #skz hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #skz hyunjin scenarios

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wri0thesley · 4 years

Text

unfortunately i wrote sorbet n gelato cockwarming because the self ship server is just a fucking. ENABLER HAVEN. i blame @purplehazescape for this mostly

warnings: NOT SFW afab reader, neutral pronouns aside from italian terms (troia/puttana/amore) reader wears a skirt. slurs. threat of death. knives. blood. public play. bringing ppl into your kink without consent. i dont know how to explain this dynamic im just . . . bro im just horny

“What? You don’t think you can take it?” Gelato leans over in front of you, chucking your chin, grin playing about his own mouth (you see the flash of sharp teeth - you’ve always wondered if they’re naturally like that, or if Gelato is simply fucked up enough to have gotten it done cosmetically). “Amore, if I’m going to have to give up my seat to you--”

“If you know what’s good for you,” Sorbet intones, and the bigger man’s hands are suddenly settling either side of your hips, heavy and warm. “You’ll take it.”

You shiver. You wet your lips.

“What will you do to me if I can’t?” You ask, your voice soft, your lashes lowered - and Gelato throws his head back and laughs that wild iron-grate-see-saw laugh of his, that you by all accounts should hate but still sends a thrill through you. You know him well enough to tell his laugh of amusement and his laugh of anger and frustration apart by now, and you - lucky you - always seem to manage to err on the side of entertainment.

“Best you don’t find that out, hmm?” Sorbet’s breath is warm against your neck.

Gelato moves across the room, cat-like, delicately considering the other options of places he can sit - but through it all, his dark eyes do not move from you and Sorbet.

“I want to watch,” Gelato breathes, as he eventually perches on the side of Risotto’s favourite armchair. “I want to see them take you, Sorbetto--”

The sing-song tone of Gelato’s voice as he uses the pet name sends another pleased shiver through your body, as does the hungry way that Gelato’s gaze rests on both of you. Sorbet’s hands travel over your hips, pausing to rest on your thighs, hot fingertips digging into soft flesh as he flips up the skirt (chosen this morning just for this purpose, because Sorbet had leaned over you in the wardrobe and thrust it into your hands, telling you ‘You’ll want this’). After they’d made their request - no, perhaps order is a better word - you’d been grateful that they’d thought ahead.

“You’re already ready for me, puttana,” Sorbet hisses, and he roughly digs his painted nails into your flesh to turn you slightly towards Gelato and Gelato’s hungry, hungry eyes. “See, Gelatino?”

“Shameless,” Gelato breathes, his eyes raking over the damp spot on your underwear, even as you try fruitlessly to press your thighs together and hide your shame. “It’s a good job Sorbet’s taking pity on you, troia. If you weren’t filled up, who knows who else you’d go begging for cock--”

The noise that escapes your own throat is a low needy whine, as Sorbet’s fingers move and gently rub at your slit through the underwear, the fabric rapidly dampening.

“You’re so easy,” Gelato continues, his eyes not leaving you for a moment. “We give you a scrap of attention and you’re like a fucking puppy dog, brazen little whore--”

“He’s right, you know,” Sorbet growls, and you hear the elastic in your underwear snap and wonder why you even bother wearing it with these two around. “Only a whore would let us use them like this. Only a whore would spread their legs and sit there right in front of everyone else on their team with one of their lovers’ cocks buried inside them--”

Breathlessly, you whisper;

“W-who said I was going to just let you?”

It’s like a switch being pulled. Sorbet is dragging you backwards, hands knit in your hair, teeth sinking into your neck at the same time as Gelato is moving across the room lightning-fast, pressing himself so close to you that you feel the heavy heat of his cock in military fatigues pressing against your thigh - and something metal and sharp pressing against your other. The moan-whimper dies in your throat as Gelato drags the knife up your body, nicking the shirt you’re wearing just a little, knife tip pressing against your clavicle.

“It would be so quick,” Gelato reminds you - you never know whether his threats are empty or not, and that’s what has your heart hammering and breath catching and underwear soaking. “If you aren’t good for us . . . amore, you’d hardly be the first toy we’ve broken--”

Sorbet’s teeth, dragging along your flesh, and your moan is strangled. Sorbet himself huffs laughter into the shell of your ear, breath hot. His cock digs hard into your ass.

“You’re lucky we like you,” he reminds you, rasping. “Lucky you take us so well--”

Gelato moves the knife, tapping it thoughtfully for a moment against your lips, barely missing nicking your lip (bitten, bleeding lips would hardly give the rest of the team pause amongst the three of you, so you can only assume he never meant to hurt you and not that he’s teasing you).

“Be good for Sorbet,” he reminds you. “Or the rest of the team will get to know what it is you’re doing, and we won’t like them thinking of you like that at all.”

You nod, swallowing - and you receive a dazzling smile from Gelato, practically vibrating as he takes his place back on the arm of Risotto’s chair. Sorbet is almost lazy as his other hand moves down and you hear the zip of his trousers, fingers squeezing your ass, questing to the slick lips of your sex. He snorts as he feels that you’ve just gotten wetter, despite the fact mere moments ago Gelato had a knife pressed against you - and then, you’re pulled backwards even more, and your breath hitches as the head of Sorbet’s cock brushes your entrance.

“S-Sorbet--” you start, trying to speak, but Gelato smirks and taps his lips as you hear the faintest sounds of stirring, feet on a staircase, grumbles from the rest of your team. A spark of panic registers dull in the back of your mind, the tip of Sorbet’s cock slick and thick as his hand wraps around your middle - Sorbet is big. Sorbet’s a stretch for you to take even when the situation is favourable, an aching heat that leaves you sore for days-- “Sorbet, please, be g-gen--aah---”

You should have known the ‘please’ would get him - it always does. You should have known the minute Sorbet and Gelato sensed your panic in the air, they’d abuse it - because no sooner have you opened your mouth to beg than Sorbet has thrust up and pulled you down and ten thick inches are buried in you to the hilt, the burning stretch white hot for a moment as you cry out. Your vision is whited out, but you see Gelato across the room huff and a hand rub at the front of his fatigues, hear Sorbet’s satisfied growl into your ear whilst your body tries desperately to adjust to the new sensation--

“Oh!” That’s Formaggio’s voice, calling out your name in concern. “We heard you cry, are you o-- oh.” Your vision comes back into focus enough to see the pantomime play out - Formaggio’s brow, knit with worry, softening as he realises you’re with Sorbet and Gelato. Any cries of pain coming from this room, then, it’s generally agreed are your own fault for getting involved with the two of them. “Huh. Weird to see you not on Sorbet’s lap, Gelato.”

Your vision still feels blurry, but the ache inside you is starting to subside from a burning expanse into something more manageable. You’re aware your breathing is a little heavy, but the way Sorbet has wrapped his arms around you (both to hide the fact your stomach is probably bulging a little and to keep your clothes covering you and to keep you prostrate against him) is covering most of it.

“They got there first,” Gelato drawls, his eyes shifting to you, crawling over your body. “So I had to give up my throne for today.” Gelato shrugs, grinning. “Maybe Risotto will let me sit on his lap.”

“Or you could sit like a normal person on a fucking seat,” Ghiaccio grumbles, entering the room. He spares a glance at you and Sorbet - Sorbet moves one hand, lazily, to fake a wave and the way that it makes his body shift in even the slightest way has you biting your tongue to stop a moan slipping out. Sorbet doesn’t miss your trouble - he leans low against you, lips against your earlobe, and murmurs;

“Behave.”

So you do.

You’re a little distracted, clearly, when team members greet you and all you can do is offer a weak ‘mm’ in response (it’s difficult to think of anything other than Sorbet’s cock inside you, perfectly still). Even Gelato’s teasing - which you’d usually respond to with barbed wire comments that make him grin and spark and laugh - when people ask why you’ve taken Gelato’s usual spot doesn’t manage to provoke much of a reaction from you. All you can think of is how big he is, how good it feels, that ache inside you that had been stroked when Sorbet’s fingers had dipped into your slit and the two of them had called you a slut--

You bite down hard on your lip to stop from shifting, pressing against Sorbet’s chest, whining for more stimulation. You won’t bring yourself to beg in front of the rest of the team, who think everything is normal! Though Gelato’s grin is shit-eating, you try and bite down on your lip and keep quiet.

It’s all fine. Gelato takes Sorbet’s assignments from next to Risotto (Risotto had not, predictably, let him sit on his lap - Gelato had thrown his head back and laughed and you’d seen a genuine flash of fear in Pesci’s eyes that perhaps this was going to push Gelato’s angry switch, but the blond had remained good-natured.)

You know why Gelato had remained good-natured, of course - he’s enjoying watching your eyebrows knit and your body stay still, the flush on your cheeks and the way you’re having to count your breaths so that you don’t give the game away by panting. Sorbet, behind you, is utterly relaxed.

Bastard.

Sorbet’s always had patience, though - patience that you know he doesn’t get to exercise with Gelato, who has never sat still in his life. Instead, Sorbet has you to play with for his more elaborate waiting games - a night spent gagged with one of the bigger toys inside you, coming over and over again, when Gelato and Sorbet had a hit to attend to. A day when you were only allowed to say ‘yes, Master’. A day you’d spent chained and blindfolded, bent over the desk in their room - Sorbet and Gelato coming in to fuck you every so often without even announcing their presence, so it was down to the way they fucked you and the feel of their cock - wherever they decided to put it - to tell you who was in the room with you at any one time.

The daydreaming and memories get away from you, thoughts of times when you were actually being fucked instead of being made to take part in this slow torture of having something so close to you and yet utterly still swimming in your mind to mock you.

Sorbet pokes you in the stomach and you blink, pulled from your thoughts.

Risotto is looking at you, ink and blood eyes perturbed, something held in his hand.

Fuck.

Your assignments for the week.

“You can fucking lean forward,” Ghiaccio grumbles. “He’s not that far away from you, and Sorbet can’t be that comfortable--”

“He’s very comfortable, believe me,” Gelato purrs at Ghiaccio, and Pesci blushes and Prosciutto clicks his tongue as if chastising a dog, tired.

“Come on,” The latter says, his blue eyes staring hard and cold into you. “We all have places to be. Take them so we can get on with it.”

Helplessly, you look at Gelato - but no. Gelato’s grin is shit-eating as always, eyes bright. Sorbet sighs, a sound of annoyance that has everyone on hold.

“Get them yourself, amore,” Gelato croons, his eyes not leaving you for a moment. “You’re capable of it, aren’t you?”

You don’t want to move on Sorbet’s cock, afraid of how the ridges and veins and the feeling of his shaft inside you might make your thighs jump and your composure slip - helplessly, you look from Gelato to Risotto again, but then Sorbet himself leans forward and oh my God--

You don’t realise you’ve moaned out loud, eyelids fluttering closed, breath hitching and cheeks flushing, until Illuso cackles with laughter and Prosciutto hisses;

“You have got to be kidding me--”

“In the fucking living room?”

“In front of everyone?”

“Are you really on his--”

“Jesus Christ--”

Through everyone’s groans and uncomfortable flushes and, you don’t fail to notice, sudden boners (Melone’s outfit leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination after all), one voice is unmistakable: a rusty iron gate, laughing, crowing;

“You really are shameless, aren’t you?”

Your face is burning, but Gelato’s is triumphant and pleased.

Oh, you’re going to get in so much trouble for this.

#writing #self ship postin kind of idk #slurs #afab reader #neutral pronouns #blood #knives #sorbet #gelato #poly ship tag #not sfw

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thatesqcrush · 4 years

Text

Soul Savin’ Pt. 5 (FIN)

Rafael Barba x Reader. AN: Taking a lot of liberties and using a lot of prompts and part of a challenge here, specifically: @madpanda75 “from your smutty prompt list, can you please do “Friends don’t do this kind of shit!” where Barba and the reader go to a bar, have some tequila, then do some body shots” as well as @delia26 “I turned out liking your a lot more than I originally planned.” Finally, using Jewel’s “Who Will Save Your Soul” as part of @thefanficfaerie‘s birthday challenge.

CW: language, totally NSFW.

AN: Please forgive any typos. Again, writing through grief is weird AF. I’m trying my best. AN2: Picking up slightly from where we last off. Smut’s under the cut!

WC: 2k-ish

You took Rafael’s hand and allowed him to lead the way. “I should have done this that night you were here – when I invited you to hear my closing.” Rafael looked through his vinyl collection, quickly finding the record he was looking for. You instantly recognized the cover to the record as the one you chose. Rafael waited for the turntable platter to stop spinning before he gently removed it and returned it to its cover. Finally, Rafael set the new record to play and Moonlight began to play.

Rafael returned to you and took you into his arms. He caressed your face gently, pushing your hair away from your face. “I should have kissed you that night. And every night before then and every night after. I shouldn’t have waited.” Rafael lowered his face and brushed his lips against yours. You felt your heart swell at his proclamation and eagerly returned his kiss. His stubble prickled your skin and you lasciviously wondered what it would feel like in between your legs.

Your tongues gently rolled over one another’s as you each explored the caverns of your mouths. You moaned slightly and Rafael took the cue to deepen the kiss. Your hands ran up and down his defined arms, before running down to his sides. Rafael nipped your bottom lip and sucked it in between his teeth, causing you to moan.

Rafael moved back to your neck, focusing his ministrations on a particularly sensitive spot. You ran your hands into his hair and gripped tightly as he sucked a mark into your neck. You whimpered as he used the tip of his tongue to soothe the bruised spot.

“Still have to go?” Rafael asked breathless, as he pulled away. He beamed at the hickey that was beginning to develop.

You shook your head, smirking. “No.”

“Good. I want to have breakfast and I bet you’re just delicious.”

You laughed heartily at his comment and then squealed as he picked you up, hoisting you over his shoulder and leading you back to his bedroom.

Rafael gave your ass a smack as he carried you over your shoulder to his bedroom. From there he plopped you onto his bed and you sunk into the fluffy comforter in a fit of giggles.

“What’s so funny cariño?” Rafael questioned, as he climbed over you. Instinctively, you parted your legs so that Rafael could settle in between them. You wrapped your legs around his waist and crossed them at the ankle effectively trapping Rafael in place, not that he wanted to escape.

You locked eyes with Rafael, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. Your hands rested on his biceps and you felt his muscles twitch under your fingers.

“Just never thought this would be happening. We went from undercover bust to doing body shots… and now I am in your bed.”

“So your weekend is improving, is what you’re saying.”

You laughed heartily. “God help me. But yes. It’s just too bad…”

Rafael cocked his head. “What?”

“Too bad we didn’t finish those body shots. I have a shockingly deep belly button.” You winked for an added effect.

Rafael leaned down to kiss you and you softly moaned as you returned the kiss. Your fingers ran through his hair, softly scratching his scalp as you kissed him. Rafael’s mouth moved to your ear, where he playfully nipped your lobe. He flickered his tongue behind in the crevice between the back of the lobe and your skin, sending tingles down your spine. You moved your head, catching Rafael’s lips with yours once more. You pressed your hands on Rafael’s chest and pushed him off of you gently. Rafael gave you a bewildered look, but it was quickly replaced with a lustful look as you removed your sweatshirt.

Rafael climbed back over you once more, and he peppered your jawline with small, chaste kisses before moving across your clavicle and down your sternum. A small growl rumbled from his chest as he circled your nipple with his tongue, before taking it into his mouth. He used his other hand to pinch and roll your other nipple. Rafael took his time, leisurely playing with your breasts, stimulating you with various intensities of touch. Rafael moved to your other breast and repeated his languid actions. You whimpered and mewled under Rafael’s touch as he kept going: sucking, touching, rubbing, squeezing, and stroking. Rafael grazed his teeth gently along the tip and you arched your back in response. Your skin was flushed with arousal.

Rafael pressed wet open kisses down your sternum and continued down your stomach. He paused at your belly button, before using his tongue to gently swirl around it. “What’s that you said about body shots?” he murmured against your skin, causing you to quiver. Rafael shifted further down, until he got to your jeans. Your breathing was shallow as you grew more aroused, your heart was racing with anticipation. Rafael stopped what he was doing and locked eyes with you.

“If at any point you want to stop – you tell me. Me entiendes?”

“Yes, Rafael – of course.” You agreed. After a beat you continued. “Please don’t stop.”

Rafael undid the button of your jeans and unzipped them. He kissed your newly exposed skin, just above the band of your underwear. You lifted your hips in encouragement and Rafael helped you remove both items. Rafael took your underwear in his hand and balled them, inhaling your sweet scent. Rafael had to will himself to not cum right then and there.

Rafael gently spread your legs and his cock twitched at how noticeably aroused you were. His fingers ghosted over pussy. Normally you kept yourself neatly trimmed, but because of your undercover stint, you were completely bare and if anything, extra sensitive. Rafael’s breath was warm and you squirmed. A large forearm kept you in place. “You’re soaked,” he husked, as he collected your arousal on his fingertip before moving to massage your swollen clit.

You swore loudly as Rafael rubbed concentric circles on your clit. “Oh fuck!” Rafael teased you in the same way he did with your breasts, but this time on your pussy. You locked eyes with Rafael and he winked before he lowered his mouth to your cunt. You gasped as he licked a broad stripe up your slit. His warm, wet tongue circled your bundle of nerves before his lips closed around it. ‘God when they said he was a good orator, they weren’t kidding’ you thought to yourself as you threw your head back. You grasped and fisted the sheets as Rafael worked you closer and closer to orgasm.

Your fingers tangled in Rafael’s dark hair, keeping him in place in between your legs. The burn of Rafael’s stubble against you only heightened your pleasure as you ground against his face. You whimpered and murmured words of praise and encouragement as Rafael continued to eat you like a man starved.

Rafael momentarily paused his actions, partly to take a breather and partly to tease you. “Please, please… I want to cum,” you half-sobbed. Rafael chuckled low as he continued to rub your clitoris.

“Is that so Y/N?” Rafael teased as he kept your legs spread apart. He kept his touches light and teasing, stroking your labia softly, all the way down to your perineum. Your body was trembling with desire as Rafael continued his tease. Finally, Rafael slipped two fingers inside of you. He curled his fingers in a “’come hither’ motion towards your belly button, caressing your g-spot, before slipping his fingers back out and rubbing your clitoris. He repeated the motions over and over.

“Oh my God, oh my God! Rafael!” You cried out. Rafael kept a steady caress on your g-spot and used the pad of his thumb to rub your clitoris. Rafael could feel your walls flutter, squeezing. Finally, it was all too much, and your orgasm peaked. You choked out Rafael’s name as you squirted all over his face.

You barely had a moment to come down from your high when Rafael’s mouth was back on you, lapping away like a kitten with a saucer of cream. You groaned and tried to pull away, your body too sensitive. Instead, Rafael kept a tight grip on your hips as he continued to eat you out.

You were desperate for a break but also desperate for more, to be filled. “Fuck me Rafael,” you implored. “Please.”

Rafael removed himself and you felt yourself blush at the sight of his face covered in your essence. Rafael climbed back up your body and you pulled him down for a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. You both continued to lazily makeout before you took the impetus to roll Rafael over, so he was on his back.

“My turn,” you murmured against his lips before shimmying down his body. As you did so, you pressed large wet kisses along his chest and down his abdomen. Rafael’s cock was rock solid and created a large tent in his boxers. You reached into the flap of his boxers and pulled out his cock. He was deliciously thick and you couldn’t wait for him to fill you up. You wrapped your fingers around his cock, your fingers could barely meet around his girth. Your hand held him firm at the base, languidly pumping him. You keened in the sound of Rafael’s groans above you. Finally, you took his length in your mouth.

He hissed at the sensation, and you swirled your tongue around the crown of his cock, alternating between the flat side of your tongue and the tip. His groans became louder and louder. He reached down to place his hand on the back of your head, his fingers tangled tightly in your hair. Rafael propped himself on one elbow watching as his cock slip in and out of your mouth as he continued to guide you. You dipped your tongue into the slit before moving onto lick the underside of his cock, from the base to the tip. You repeated this action before moving down to his testicles. You gently sucked on one side and then moved to the other, causing Rafael to jerk slightly in response. “Fuck yes…” Rafael growled quietly.

You pulled back slightly and Rafael loosened the grip on your head. Your lips were swollen and a strand of connected you to him. You broke the connection by wiping your mouth and then returned to swallow his length once more. Rafael’s cock felt heavy on your tongue and the taste of his pre-cum flooded your mouth. The wet, sloppy sounds of you sucking his cock filled the room.

“Mierda, you’re such a good cocksucker Y/N,” Rafael panted as he laid back down. You hummed at his praise, which sent vibrations up his spine. “Keep that up and I’ll come right in that pretty mouth of yours.”

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked him harder in response. Rafael falling apart was titillating and served to heighten your arousal. You could feel your wetness drip down your thighs. You popped off, breathless. You leaned over close to Rafael, your tits brushing against his chest. “Maybe next time,” you purred. “For now, I want you to come inside me.”

Rafael brought you down to kiss him. The kiss was hard, all mashed up teeth and tongue. Rafael rolled you back so he was on top of you. He sat on his haunches, admiring your nakedness. Finally, he removed his boxers, tossing them to the side without care. You took in the sight of Rafael completely nude, his cock red and weeping.

“Protection?”

Rafael nodded and he made his way to a drawer, where he pulled out a box. He continued to stroke his cock with one hand. With the other, he removed one and with eyes on you, rolled it on. He climbed back onto the bed and you spread your legs. Rafael nestled in between your legs and used his cock to stroke and smack your cunt, teasing.

“Just fuck me already,” you whined. “Give it to me.”

Rafael pushed inside of you. “So needy.”

You both moaned loudly as he sunk into you and then bottomed out. He was thick and there was a sweet burn as he stretched you. Your muscles clamped down like a vice and you hooked your legs around his waist once more. Rafael started off with some shallow thrusts, setting the speed. Your eyes fluttered shut as you allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of the rhythm of his hips.

Your nails raked down Rafael’s back as he increased his movements. Grunts and moans now filled the room. You couldn’t believe this was happening – you had imagined this moment for months. You were so close to coming but you also did not want this moment, these pleasurable feelings to end. You moved an arm to snake in between your bodies and to rub your clit. Rafael’s cock nudged a sweet spot and you couldn’t hold on any longer. “I’m going to co…I am… I am going to…” you gasped, your words a jumbled mess.

Rafael lowered himself so he was nearly lying on top of you and he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Rafael sucked the skin of your neck, marking you once more. “Come for me,” he growled. You wailed Rafael’s name as you let go, your body following his command. Feeling your walls flutter around his cock and hearing his name escaping your lips was too much for Rafael. This was better than he had ever imagined. His thrusting became erratic; sweat dripped off his body onto yours. You knew he was close to coming himself. Rafael let out a strangled cry as he stilled his movements, coming.

Rafael collapsed on top of you and you pressed a kiss on his sweat slicked skin. You hummed contentedly, enjoying the feel of his body on yours. Rafael nuzzled your neck before moving to press a soft kiss on your lips.

“I think it is safe to say I feel the same way about you.” You murmured against Rafael’s skin. “I have for some time.”

Rafael beamed. He was relieved that you returned his affections and that this wasn’t just a one-time event for you.

Rafael hummed in response and rolled off of you. You brought the fitted sheet over yourself a bit as Rafael stood to dispose of the condom. He returned to the bed and pulled you close to him. You snuggled in his embrace, listening to his heart thud in his chest.

“So…” you began, running your fingers along his chest hair. “Now what?”

Rafael pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead. “Well, before we rush to change our Facebook status, for now, I am happy to just lay here with you, mi alma.”

“Alma? What’s that?” you asked as you now drew circles on his chest.

“Soul.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the translation. Finally you let out a small giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Rafael asked.

“You have a Facebook?”

Rafael rolled so that he laid on top of you once more. “Oh, there’s a lot you don’t know about me detective.” He added a wink for good measure before leaning down to kiss you.

“I can’t wait to find out,” you replied, gasping once more as Rafael began kissing down your body again.

FIN.

Tags: @melsquared79 @madpanda75 @youreverycolor @tropes-and-tales @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @delia26 @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoollike @fanficfaeriesrafaelbarbalibrary @theenchantedgalleryofstories @thefanficfaerie @trekinthruthestarwars @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 -anyone else, just ask, xo

#rafael barba smut #rafael barba imagine #barba imagine #barba x reader #rafael barba and reader #barba and reader #svu fanfiction #svu smut #barba x you #reader x barba

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uzumaki-rebellion · 4 years

Text

“Stark’s New Intern” Chp. 18

youtube

"Friends tell me I am crazy And I'm wasting time with you You'll never be mine It's not the way I see it 'Cause I feel you're already mine Whenever you're with me (oh, oh, oh)

People always talkin' 'bout Your reputation I don't care about your other girls Just be good to me…"

The S.O.S. Band—"Just Be Good To Me"

Erik laughed so hard that his stomach hurt.

Athena had the biggest lop-sided grin on her face as they both listened to Giselle go in on her project manager. Massacred plates of chicken taquitos, chimichangas, and ceviche sat piled around their table along with empty margarita glasses. The three of them spent two hours talking and cutting loose from work.

By the time they tumbled out of the restaurant, it was after nine in the evening.

"…no the Lyft will take us all home and you can pick up your car in the morning," Athena said to Giselle.

Erik called a Lyft for them all and within thirty minutes they were back at the Oakwood in front of Erik's unit. Shaking his legs out, Erik felt lightly buzzed and happy to have a full content belly. He was also happy that Athena and Giselle had squashed their past beef and were back to being cautious friends again. Erik could tell over dinner that they had a bond itching to come back together. Giselle finally conceded over a Cadillac margarita that she had been wrong about Athena, bringing both women to drunken tears and much-needed hugs. Both women had a lot of pride about getting to the top on their own merits, and Erik sensed they were both eager to mend their relationship, but too stubborn to face one another without feeling like the loser with their tail between their legs. It was good to see how they might have been back in college together. So much laughter and shared inside jokes. He felt a lot of camaraderie with the two of them and it was one of his best chill out with friends night he'd had in a long time.

Standing in front of his residence, both women were relaxed and attentive to him.

"Thanks for hearing me out and giving me suggestions on how to handle Janine and them," he said stretching his back.

"Three more weeks!" Giselle said holding out her fist.

"Three more weeks," he chimed back giving her a pound.

"See you fools later," Athena said. She reached over and gave Erik a big hug, "Keep your head up, you'll make it."

Erik kissed her cheek as he held onto her, but then the soft warm feel of her body in his arms did something to him and he rested his lips on her mouth. The kiss was gentle but promised more to come when she opened her lips and took his tongue. His hand slid down her gray blouse and gripped the meat of her ass.

He reached over and pulled Giselle in close and kissed her. The surprised look on her face didn't stop him from rubbing on her ass too. The expensive margaritas had him feeling frisky. Bold.

Neither one of the women pushed him away, and by the time he was sucking on Giselle's neck, Athena was already tugging on the erection that was poking hard against his slacks. He felt even more brazen when Giselle's hand slipped down to pull on his dick too.

He stood back from both of them and cupped his right hand over the top of his erection. He had never had a threesome before and he was eager to get down to it. But would they?

"Maria ain't here tonight. We can go up to my room…"

His eyes darted between the two of them.

"We?" Giselle asked.

"I'm not doing no eenie-meenie-minie-moe," Erik slurred, "you can both get this dick right now."

Athena regarded Giselle with questioning eyes.

"Erik, I don't do girl-on-girl," Giselle said.

"I said you both could get it, I didn't say with each other. That's up to you two."

"We're all drunk. Let's just say goodnight," Giselle said taking a step back from him.

Athena clung to him still and Erik couldn't hide the disappointment on his face.

"Night, girl," Athena said pulling Erik toward his apartment.

Giselle watched them move away from her and for a moment, her eyes looked shocked that Athena was going with him.

Erik held out his hand toward her.

"You can do what you want or just watch or whatever, but I really want you too."

He couldn't hide the loose stumbling of his words and it made Giselle smile.

"Everything consensual and full of mutual respect," he said, trying to coax her with a sexy voice, or at least what he thought sounded sexy.

"You are tipsy," Athena giggled.

Erik nodded his head toward the steps.

"You and those stupid dimples," Giselle said. She sauntered over and Erik clasped her hand.

###

It was one thing to fantasize about a threesome. It was also another thing to jerk off to threesomes while watching porn.

Everything was different in real life when two fine women climbed onto Erik's bed naked and legs open.

Kissing them both had been the ultimate in pleasure and it was easy for him to move from mouth to mouth and tongue to tongue. He thought his body would overheat when they all sat on the edge of his bed twisting necks back and forth. His fingers caressed nipples and breasts and the mixtures of their two perfumes drifting around his nose made him heady and weak. Giselle sucked on his neck as Athena took his wet tongue with hers and stroked the tip of his dick. He took off his shirt then and shucked off his pants and boxer briefs. Athena went down on him first and Erik fondled Giselle's breasts as he watched Athena's head go up and down on his lap.

"Suck that shit, Ma…" he groaned.

Giselle sucked on his tongue and his erection grew firmer in Athena's mouth.

Releasing Giselle's lips, his heart triple thumped in his chest as a rush of maddening desire came over him. Athena's tongue dragged up his length and her eyes were glued to his as she kneeled before him, her large breasts hugged up against his balls.

Sex was as natural to him as breathing and he knew Giselle's and Athena's bodies very well. But having them in front of him together made him nervous now. The weight of his dick was making him antsy. He had kissed them both into a frenzy and enjoyed the slow release of skirts, blouses, bras, stockings and sheer black pantyhose along the way.

He slowed down and replayed everything up until that moment.

Athena was more assertive than Giselle, not caring if her newly reunited friend was down for the loving or not. But it didn't take long for Giselle to ease into it, her concerns about being sexual with Athena unfounded. She had to fight for time with his lips and snatched it when Athena fondled his balls. His nuts felt so full and once Athena licked the pre-cum from his slit, Giselle was already thrusting her tongue down his throat as he fingered her wet folds. He found himself turning mechanical with his movement, focusing too much on trying to give each woman equal attention instead of just going with the flow.

"Erik?" Athena whispered.

He swallowed hard and licked his lips.

Relax, he told himself.

He eased up on overthinking everything once he fell back on the bed with Athena sitting on his face and Giselle bobbing her head all on his dick. They too found their own rhythm with him and Athena gave Giselle space to touch or be touched by her.

The sensations in Erik's body were heightened more and he had to keep track of his arousal to keep from ejaculating too soon. As much as he wanted to cum in Giselle's mouth as he ate out Athena's pussy, he wanted to save that first erection for penetrating both of them.

"Raise up," he gently whispered to Athena.

Athena rolled over and he groaned when he saw how her gorgeous skin just glowed from him licking her to the verge of an orgasm. She cradled her breasts and he nipped at her clavicle before standing up and pulling Giselle onto the bed next to her.

He grabbed a condom from inside his nightstand and opened it carefully. Both women's eyes sparkled as he rolled the rubber down his length. Both were okay with him using the same condom between them since they were all pretty much sex partners all together any other time. They were all clean and safe. Erik kept on top of that shit religiously.

His nerves kicked in again when he looked down at both open legs and two wet pussies waiting on him. Who to dick down first?

"Erik…"

Giselle whined his name and her hips rotated on the bed. Athena gave him a big smile and he felt that he was given the okay to get between Giselle's legs first. Taking a deep breath he pushed her legs back and rested his knees on the bed. Giselle raised up on her elbows as he lined up with her opening.

"Erik!"

Eyes clenched tight, Giselle lost her breath when he pushed in, the sound of her wet pussy making Athena sigh in envy.

"You feel so good," he exhaled as he shifted his weight to get down deep inside of her.

Heavy thrusts kept Giselle moaning and Erik turned his head from staring down at his sheathed dick stretching her out to watch Athena's face. The other woman moved closer to him and he reached out to squeeze her right breast that overflowed in his hand.

Legs splayed out, Erik gazed at Athena's opening and she was so juicy, clear natural lubricant just trickled out of her making her glisten down there. He pulled out from Giselle and scrambled over to get inside Athena. He sank into her and the warmth surrounding him made him gasp and crush his chest against hers.

"Damn, girl…"

Breathy grunts fell from his mouth as he put in work, but it didn't last when he jumped off of Athena to spoon around Giselle. He held Giselle's leg and pumped into her. Athena stroked his ass, her fingers clutching his glutes with firm squeezes. He almost lost control of his release when he felt her touches move to cradle his balls.

"Fuck!"

Twenty minutes in and he couldn't hold back.

Pulling out of Giselle, Erik stood up and pulled off the condom. Eyes darting between the two, he fisted himself. Giselle and Athena bent their knees and opened their legs wide on the bed, their thighs touching together.

"Open your pussies!" he shouted.

They both peeled back the slick lips of their vulvas.

"Making me nut!"

The root of his dick jumped in his hand and hot semen splashed all over the back of their thighs. Throwing his head back, he stared at the ceiling of his bedroom and let out laughter that shook his entire body. His head dropped forward and he saw his cum sliding down their wet skin.

"Damn...that shit felt amazing," he snapped.

Dropping to his knees, Erik took his time eating them both out until each of their thighs nearly suffocated him.

Any issues he had about dealing with two women at once went away once he got his second wind. He relaxed into the sex and it was good all night long.

###

Exhaustion and dehydration had him gulping down a bottle of orange juice in the kitchen without a glass. He padded into the living room naked and plopped his sated body on the couch. Athena and Giselle were piled on his bed fast asleep. He heard a buzzing sound and reached for his suit jacket that sat in a ball on the armrest.

"Fuck…"

Devika.

He totally forgot about her. There were several text messages from her and a voicemail message. He texted an apology and made up an excuse about being out with interns and getting drunk. Well, it wasn't an actual lie. He did get drunk. And he was with other interns. Just knee-deep in other pussy.

He watched TV and dozed off.

A key in the door woke him up, and he wasn't sure if he was dreaming until Maria walked in…

…with his Aunt, Uncle, and Walter.

"Shit!"

Erik jumped up and covered his lower parts with a couch pillow.

"Whoops!" Maria said turning her eyes away from him.

Erik's Uncle Bakari grinned and Walter doubled over with laughter.

"JaJa! Really?" his Aunt Shavonne said when she stepped fully into the living room.

"Surprise!" Bakari said.

"What are you doing here?" Erik muttered stepping back from his family and bestie.

"We wanted to surprise you," Bakari said.

"I just came back from Noel's place and found them outside," Maria said.

She no longer averted her eyes from him with his dick and balls covered up.

"Get dressed, we'll take you to breakfast," Bakari said.

"Um…okay-"

"Erik…"

Athena walked out wearing her bra and panties. She stopped near the bathroom when she saw the others.

"Oh…excuse me," she said.

Erik felt his face get warm and it grew warmer when Giselle walked out of his bedroom next wearing his tank t-shirt and her thong.

Bakari looked at Erik and shook his head.

"Boy, you are just like your Mama," he said.

"Excuse me for a minute," Erik said.

He backed away from everyone and both women followed him into the bedroom.

"Ohmigod, I am so…I want to disappear right now," Giselle mumbled throwing on her clothes.

Athena laughed.

"They don't know us, so I'm not going to trip," Athena said pulling up her skirt.

Erik put on jeans and a polo shirt. Slipping on a pair of Keen sandals, he wiped his hand over his face.

"Yo, Erik, we hungry," Walter called out.

"Who is that out there?" Giselle asked.

"My aunt and uncle, and my homeboy from Oakland."

"He's fine,' Athena said.

Erik glared at her.

"He is. Don't be jealous!" Athena teased.

"I can't go back out there. Maybe you all can leave first?" Giselle pleaded.

The doorbell rang.

"Erik!"

Maria's voice sang out to him.

"Let's go. Don't make a big deal and don't make eye contact," Erik instructed.

He rubbed a bit of deodorant under his arms.

"C'mon," he said.

Walter stood watching him outside his bedroom door with a lopsided grin and Erik punched his boy in the shoulder. Back in the living room, Maria had a pinched look on her face. Her eyes went to the front door.

"Devika," Erik said.

Devika had on work out gear and carried a tray of Starbucks coffee and a bag of Yum Yum donuts. Her eyes took in his surprise visitors, but they grew narrow when she saw Giselle and Athena.

"Sorry, didn't realize you had a full house," Devika said.

She turned around and left.

Erik ran after her.

"That boy is his father's child."

His Aunt's voice drifted behind him as he scampered down the steps. Devika's car was in a guest carport spot and she flung open her driver's side door.

"Devika, wait a minute."

"I waited up for you. All you had to say was that you weren't coming. I was worried…"

She stopped and looked at him.

"Here."

She handed him the coffee and donuts.

"I was drunk and I just stayed home—"

"I get it, Erik."

"My family is here visiting. Can I see you later?"

"No."

She hopped into her car and rolled down her window.

"Devika, it ain't what you think—"

"Erik. It's cool. I should've called first. Go be with your family."

"Wait—"

She backed out and drove away leaving him alone.

He turned around and came face to face with Giselle and Athena.

"You and Devika?" Giselle asked.

"I gotta get back to the Fam," he said.

Walking back up the steps to his apartment, Erik felt horrible. He let his dick make decisions based on lust, and he disappointed a woman he really liked.

"Fuck," he muttered.

He couldn't win for losing.

His cell vibrated again.

Stark.

"Yeah?"

"Good morning to you too, Stevens. I have some news for you. I'm ending your internship right this minute."

"What? Why?"

Erik stood outside his apartment. He could hear his family talking to Maria inside.

"Be in my office first thing Monday morning-"

"Why are you kicking me out?"

"Monday."

Erik held the phone to his ear.

His family was here to celebrate his internship, and he was being kicked out.

Fuck. Fuck.

Chapter 19 HERE

###

Tag List:

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@bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78 @the-illlestt @terrablaze514 @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling

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@tyees @eye-raq @writerbee-ffs @chocolatedream30 @childishgambinaa @mygirlrenee @thewaysheis—awkward

#Stark's New Intern #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger #Tony Stark #Marvel Fanfiction #erik stevens #n'jadaka #uzumaki rebellion pantherverse

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xxxrubytuesdayxxx · 3 years

Text

If you admit you don’t really know what’s going on...

Word Count: 2,051

Disclaimer: This is part (54) of a Choose Your Own Ending!

Start here:

“Honestly? I have zero idea which,” you admit, with an apologetic grimace. “But I don’t think it would be fair to you to keep your hopes up while he and I fool around. I’m so sorry Tae-ssi,” you tell him sadly.

As if sad Taehyung and, once he hears the news from Tae, over-protective Jimin aren’t enough to deal with, you still have worried Jin and suspicious Namjoon to contend with as well. By the end of the week, angst-ridden Yoongi seems to have been added to the list and your roster of relaxing companions has been reduced to Hobi and an inappropriately over-affectionate Jeongguk.

It almost comes as a relief when Big Hit haul you and the hyung-line in for a meeting pre-Run BTS. None of you but Jin and Yoongi seem to have any idea what you’re all here for, and they’re both keeping pretty silent, although Yoongi’s mood has definitely improved exponentially, so you, Hobi and Joon exchange raised eyebrows and wait impatiently for management to show up.

Turns out that they’ve decided to allow the two eldest members to date as a kind of social experiment. Hitman Bang reiterates that there’s not strictly a dating ban, but that he is strongly advising the younger members to have patience and see what the public response is to the two hyungs dating before making any hasty decisions around their private lives. You all bow your heads and thank PD-Nim rather confusedly before heading back to the dorm to get everything ready for the episode filming this evening. You notice Jin busily texting before Yoongi pulls you aside with an anxious expression on his face.

“Can you invite Mai tonight, noona?” he asks you in an undertone. “So I can introduce her to Bang PD-Nim as my girlfriend,” he adds, gruffly.

“Uh, of course!” you assure him quickly.

“Please don’t tell her though. I want it to be a surprise,” he mumbles. You smile at him encouragingly and nod your agreement. He gives you one of his little gummy smiles in thanks and heads down to the van. You message Mai happy Chuseok and let her know that, as the boys are mid-recording and can’t get back to their families for the holiday, management thought it would be nice to invite a few close people who might also not be able to get home for the holidays. “You should definitely come,” you tell her. “It will be cool to see you and the boys miss you. Also wear something cute,” you add, refusing to explain further when she presses you.

Unfortunately nobody warned you that the boys were going to be dressed up in public-school boy uniforms with a distinct military air, or that the look would suit Jeongguk so perfectly. You try to ignore him, but it’s impossible, and you and he end up exchanging heated glances every time management look the other way. Attempting to escape, you head for Mai, but Jeongguk deliberately catches your wrist as you walk over.

“Do I look cute?” he asks you, coquettishly.

“Ne. You’re the sexiest school boy I’ve ever seen,” you murmur in his ear, pretending to adjust his bangs. He smiles coyly, lowers his lashes and bites his lip, playing along. Unfortunately Mai doesn’t miss the exchange.

“That is oh-so-gross and probably illegal,” she whispers when you join her. It takes you a second to realize that she heard you and Jeongguk.

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” you defend yourself. “It’s not like he’s actually a school boy or anything.”

“No,” she reiterates. “It’s just gross and tacky. Why would you flaunt that whole noona thing? Besides, what if management heard you?!” she hisses.

“Okay, fine. Maybe you’re right,” you admit begrudgingly. “But he does look hot in that outfit and anyway it wasn’t even my idea.”

“You’re just benefitting from the kink, huh?” provokes Yoongi. You roll your eyes at him to try and cover for the veracity of his statement, then head over to the rest of the staff to assist with preparations.

Management and staff leave once filming is complete and the boys are free to relax and have a meal, prepared by Jin and some drinks, courtesy of Yoongi’s cocktail-making skills. Mai accepts a cocktail from her man with a smile.

“Can you please take off the school boy uniform?” she asks him, before he can sit down. He looks down at her, smiles and then takes one of her hands and kisses her palm.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises her. She watches him leave with a smile on her lips, but when she turns back towards you and Jeongguk, her smile fades: Jeongguk has grabbed you around the waist and pulled you onto his lap so that you’re facing him, straddling his legs. As Mai watches, he starts kissing you passionately, pulling your top open to slake his thirst on your decolletage.

“Do you want me to take my school boy uniform off?” he teases, gazing up at you doe-eyed and already intoxicated from the Irish bomb cocktails he insisted Yoongi make him.

“Ani. Leave it on and come to my room,” you beg, kissing the side of his neck and completely forgetting yourself in your desire for him. You climb off his lap and pull him to his feet, desperate to get him into your bed. He grins as his hair falls into his eyes and follows you, staggering more than a little.

You’re barely halfway there before Namjoon steps in swiftly and cuffs him.

“Enough, Jeongguk,” he tells him curtly. “And what the hell is wrong with you, noona?” he pleads. “You’re really not helping.” You look at him pleadingly, turn to look helplessly at your lover, then back to Bangtan’s leader.

“Sorry, Joon,” you mutter, begrudgingly letting go of Jeongguk’s hand and returning to the kitchen to start clearing things away.

Jeongguk drifts out to “get some water” still in his schoolboy outfit and you mouth “noraebang” to him when Namjoon is preoccupied. He winks, nods and retreats back into his room with his water, leaving poor Joon none the wiser when Kook subsequently announces that he’s ordered one of the company cars around to take him to the local singing rooms for a couple of hours.

“Whatever,” Namjoon sighs, sinking onto the couch and flicking through the television controls to find something to watch. If he smells a rat when you slip out half an hour later, he chooses to ignore it in the name of getting some peace and quiet.

You sign in at your local noraebang and pay for your own room, chatting amiably to the hostess at the counter. She knows both you and Jeongguk as you regularly use the booths, and she knows you work for Big Hit but doesn’t know exactly what your job entails, so she doesn’t think anything of you both turning up separately on the same evening. You surreptitiously note that one or two of the surveillance screens behind her are blank, and you incline your head to ask her to turn your camera off as well, slipping her the extra payment the lounge accepts for the privacy privilege that makes them popular with idols. She nods at the unspoken request, flips a switch causing another screen to display static and leads you to an empty, numbered booth. You sit down with a sigh and text Jeongguk to let him know you’re there. Your phone vibrates almost instantly, displaying a text with just a number on it. You gather up your microphone and clutch and pop out into the corridor to slip into his private, unmonitored booth.

He’s mid-song when you arrive, but he smiles at you and inclines his head to take a seat, which you do, after glancing at his playlist to make sure he’s got a few songs lined up to cover for your assignation. You slide along the velvet-covered bench to lay your hand on his thigh and he winks at you, without missing a note. You let him keep singing, as you climb into his lap, loosen his tie and pull at his schoolboy shirt with your painted fingernails. He drops one hand from the microphone he’s singing into to cup one of your breasts. You drop your head to attach your lips to his clavicle, kissing your way up to the underside of his jaw, as your hands grope his increasingly-exposed chest, searching for his nipples.

“Unf...fuck, noona, I want you so bad!” he gasps, dropping his microphone onto the couch and pulling your head away from his throat to press his lips to yours as his song continues, forgotten, in the background. You lose no time wrenching his shirt from his trousers and getting to work on his belt buckle, leaving his tie askew across his shoulder.

“Oooh, you’re going to get a terrible karaoke score,” you tease him, palming his growing erection over his pants. He nibbles his perfect bottom lip and moans softly. “Tell you what…” you suggest, gently extricating his cock from its cotton prison and prompting another airy moan from his primed vocal chords. “Why don’t you try and get a top score for the next one? I’ll help you hit the high notes.”

“Oh please,” he scoffs. “Like I need any help.” You watch his face as he immediately regrets his cockiness, your hand slowly but firmly pumping his dick as he swallows hard. You smirk.

“I mean under normal circumstances, of course not,” you affirm. “But these will not be…” you pause to run your tongue languorously over one of his painfully-erect nipples, “normal…” sliding the pad of your finger over the slit in the tip of his cock until he gives a strangled groan and a ribbon of precum trickles forth, “circumstances.”

“Okay, let’s get it” he murmurs, his voice breathy with desire.

“Let’s try one of your showpieces then?” you suggest, moving swiftly to type the matching digits into the keypad.

“Ohhh you bitch,” he half-laughs, half-pleads, when the title flashes up. You let him off easy for the majority of the song, just toying with his cock, stroking your fingernails along his inner thighs and sating yourself on his dark nipples as you wait impatiently for his vocal solo. The bridge fades into screen-Jeongguk’s vocal as you wrap your lips around his swollen, quivering member and let your tongue slide along his shaft. Gagging yourself with his cock, you listen in fascination as the flesh-and-blood man in front of you meshes his voice with his counterpart on the screen in a searingly passionate rendition of one of BTS’s most recognisable tunes. He barely makes it through the solo before he ejaculates straight down your willing throat, rounding out the song with considerably less vehemence, but just as much volume. You collapse, spent, in each others arms and await his score.

“100?!” you yelp, disbelievingly.

“Can’t do better than that,” he gloats, with an impish grin. “Now...come here!” He grabs you by the waist, flings you onto the couch and climbs between your legs, where he insists on riding out the remainder of his orgasm until you’re shaking and screaming for mercy. Once you’re done, you clean yourselves and the booth up, finish your set and then head down to reception together, intending to claim you had just bumped into each other in the building. Only the look on the hostess’s face stops you dead in your tracks. You blush, Jeongguk blushes and you all avoid each others’ eyes. The hostess opens her mouth to say something, changes her mind, closes her mouth and smiles at you both expectantly: “Oh, you guys ran into each other after all!” she comments a little too brightly. You give her a bemused look, knowing the game is up and hoping to just salvage the situation.

“You peeked, didn’t you?” you ask her flatly. She nods guiltily.

“I’m sorry, unnie!” she squeals.

“Can I have the tapes?” you ask her, wryly. She nods again, mouthing further apologies to Jeongguk, whose cheeks are still flaming, as she removes the tapes from the machine and hands them to you with a small bow. You take them with a muttered ‘gamsahamnida’, before you and Jeongguk make your escape, praying Namjoon won’t put two and two together when you return.

THE END

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop fan fiction #kpop story #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction #BTS story #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook smut #jeon jeongguk #BTS jungkook

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linebreaker · 5 years

Text

Birthmark

Also on AO3.

Warnings: light angst; brief mentions of past violence; mentions of past discorporation; discussions of historical anti-Semitism and violence against Jewish people.

=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=

Aziraphale first noticed the mark one morning when Crowley was puttering around the kitchen. The buttery sunlight was filtering through the herbs in the cottage window and fat bees were bumbling about outside, bumping against the glass in their search for flowers.

Crowley had just awoken from one of his week-long naps and stumbled out into the kitchen. Aziraphale regarded him over his reading glasses. He looked soft and sleep-worn, red hair flattened charmingly on one side. His yellow eyes were half-lidded and he was rubbing at one of them with his knuckles.

“Coffee?” he grunted.

“Afraid there’s nothing fresh, dear, but I can—” Crowley flapped his hands at him when Aziraphale went to snap his fingers.

“No, no, no. No. I can get it,” he muttered and then promptly banged his hip against the table corner as he made for the kettle. “Shit!”

Aziraphale huffed out a breath of laughter. “If you insist. That’s what you get for doing it the hard way.”

“It doesn’t taste the same when it’s miracled.”

Looking no more alert—but decidedly more aggravated—than he had before, Crowley went about preparing the kettle. Aziraphale’s morning paper was open in front of him, but it was mostly for show now. He enjoyed watching the demon do mundane things like cook and tend to his garden, so he took ample time to glance up and observe between each line he read.

—carry out services themselves rather than employ private firms, the chancellor has said. John McDonnell said he—

Crowley was still in his sleep clothes. He normally kept to his waistcoats and jackets and sinful trousers, but he’d been noticeably more lax in his apparel over the last few months of their retirement. Aziraphale didn’t mind.

—wants to limit the outsourcing of services such as bin collections by obliging councils to run them—

His loose-fitting pyjama bottoms were slung low on his hips. The long-sleeved grey shirt he wore looked soft, its collar wide enough to drape aside and expose a portion of the demon’s shoulder. Aziraphale let his eyes trace along his skin, forming constellations out of the freckles there.

—when existing private contracts expire. Cleaning and school dinners could also be taken back under the plans. The government—

Crowley was barefoot. As he filled the kettle, Aziraphale watched his toes curl against the tile. He rocked up onto the pads of his feet, exposing their delicate arches briefly, before settling again.

—said decisions should be left with local councils. The Confederation of British Industry said Labour’s proposal was “an extreme move devoid of evidence yet—

He managed to get the kettle on without further incident and turned to rest against the counter. With his back to the window, the morning light streamed in around like a halo, silhouetting him. Dust motes drifted lazily through the beams of sunlight.

—dripping in dogma.” In a speech on Saturday, Mr. McDonnell said outsourced contracts were costly and lacked accountability as decisions—

“What’re you looking at, angel?” Crowley asked when he glanced up again. The sunlight made it hard to see his face, but Aziraphale thought he sounded amused.

He smiled and, heart stuttering, answered, “You.”

Crowley froze momentarily. Aziraphale watched as his entire frame went rigid, his edges rippling like a mirage in the desert, before he relaxed again. He scoffed and grumbled something incomprehensible, then turned away again.

Something small and fragile unfurled in Aziraphale’s chest like a blooming flower. He smiled to himself and went back to his paper.

It wasn’t much longer before the kettle started whistling. Crowley moved to take it off the flame and go about preparing his coffee. It was while he was reaching to retrieve (see: steal) Aziraphale’s novelty angel mug off of the top shelf that his shirt rode up to reveal a band of skin. Aziraphale’s eyes were drawn briefly to the divots at the base of the demon’s spine, a little thrill running through him at the sight of them.

Then he noticed the mark.

It was a swath of skin—paler than that which surrounded it, a small swirl of white—that sat just above the jut of Crowley’s hip. Aziraphale squinted, but the shirt fell down and obscured it from view before he could get a decent look.

“Crowley, what is that?”

“Hm?” He was distracted adding heaps of instant coffee to his mug. Personally, Aziraphale detested the stuff, but Crowley was unaccountably attached. Probably because he’d had a hand in inventing it. “What’s what?”

“That mark—there, on your side.”

Crowley finished his preparations and took a sip, smacking his lips in satisfaction. Then he seemed to take in Aziraphale’s question. He paused, rim of the mug pressed against his mouth, and blinked his reptilian eyes at him. “Huh?”

Aziraphale scowled at him as he made his way over to the table—he had a feeling that the demon was being deliberately obtuse. “What is that mark? I don’t think I’ve seen that before.”

Crowley looked bemused as he took his seat across from Aziraphale, mug firmly clutched between his palms. “Never seen it before? You’ve seen me without my clothes on, angel.”

He lifted one eyebrow suggestively and Aziraphale felt his face go hot. Images flashed through his mind—Crowley beneath him, his sweat-slicked thighs up around Aziraphale’s hips, his body arching up like a bow and his slitted pupils blown wide as he came—and he quickly looked away.

“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat and focused on folding his paper for a moment. “I was rather preoccupied at the time.”

When he glanced up again, he noticed that Crowley was sporting a lopsided grin and there was a rather fetching shade of pink staining his cheeks. “Yeah?”

Aziraphale huffed and rolled his eyes. “You know perfectly well that I was, you wicked thing, so stop trying to distract me. What is that mark?” he asked again, pulling off his reading glasses and pointing them at the demon. He knew he sounded petulant, but he was terribly curious.

Crowley’s grin faded slowly, an ember burning out until it curled black and lifeless at the corner of his mouth. He shrugged and the wide neck of his shirt draped further down his shoulder. “That mark’s the reason I hate the 14th century.”

Aziraphale, whose gaze had been inextricably drawn to the gentle slope of demonic clavicle that was now on display, blinked and looked back up into his eyes. “What?”

“Well,” Crowley quickly amended, “it’s the main reason, anyway.”

“I thought you once told me that you hated the 14th century because of the Papal Schism?” Aziraphale asked.

“That was certainly part of it, yes,” he confirmed and took a sip of coffee. He looked more alert now. The soft, sleep-mussed air that hung around him after his naps was quickly dissipating. “As well as that Hundred Year War thing and The Plague.”

“As I recall, those were both terrible things that you took credit for,” Aziraphale reminded him with a quirked eyebrow. As much as Crowley seemed to despise the 14th century, it hadn’t been all fun-and-games for Aziraphale, either. Three simultaneous popes, millions dead, revolts and uprisings—it was all enough to make an angel crazy.

“Yes,” Crowley whined, slumping forward in his seat dramatically. “It was full of terrible things and I was terribly busy.”

“Oh, well, you poor dear.”

Crowley scoffed. “Angel, I get the distinct impression that your sympathy is not entirely genuine.”

“My sympathy for devils—you or otherwise—is limited, but I do genuinely adore you, so do with that as you will.”

“I shall,” Crowley said with an absurd waggle of his eyebrows. Aziraphale’s stomach swooped and he rolled his eyes with a fond tolerance.

“Crowley,” he said mildly and tried again. “The mark on your side?”

The demon’s bright yellow eyes regarded him over the top of his mug and, for the first time, Aziraphale could see weary resignation in them. It suddenly struck him how difficult Crowley was making this. A frisson of worry ran down his spine.

“Is—is there something you don’t want me to know? I mean, if so—” he hastened to say when Crowley’s mouth opened. “—that’s perfectly fine. We don’t have to tell each other everything. I just—Well, I just thought—”

“It was an exorcist.”

The rest of Aziraphale’s sentence died in his throat. He felt it whither and turn to dust, coating his tongue with bitter ash. He coughed and asked, “I, uh—beg pardon?”

“An exorcist gave me this mark,” Crowley repeated calmly and gestured towards his left side with a nod of his head. He’d put his mug down and was now focused on Aziraphale. “Back in 1349.”

Aziraphale’s mind began to race. 1349? Where did this happen? Italy? It must have been. Wasn’t I in Italy around that time? Why didn’t he call me for help? Unless—no, we still weren’t really considered acquaintances then, were we? Let alone friends. I don’t think The Arrangement was even in place for another few hundred years—

“Stop.”

The gentle command cut through his increasingly distressed train of thought and Aziraphale jerked in his seat. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and blinked up at Crowley. At some point, he had gotten up and come around to stand beside Aziraphale’s chair, half-sitting on the edge of the table.

“W-what?” he asked, thrown by the demon’s sudden proximity and still reeling from his confession. An exorcist. Why would—

“I said stop.”

Aziraphale blinked. Crowley crossed his arms with a beleaguered sigh and stared down at him. He’d pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and Aziraphale’s heart gave a squeeze at the dusting of light freckles he could see across his skin.

“I know your brain,” Crowley said. “I know it’s going hell for leather right now trying to figure everything out and I’m sure you’ve somehow managed to blame yourself.”

Aziraphale swallowed and looked away, his eyes lowering to study the wood grain of the table.

“Angel, we weren’t even friends back then,” Crowley said in exasperation, echoing his earlier thoughts. Aziraphale looked back up at him. “You thinking that you were in some way responsible for a run of bad luck I had nearly 700 years ago is just your—” He stammered briefly, jostling his shoulders like he was trying to knock the right words loose. “—angelic guilt or whatever.”

“You saved me more times than I can count and I couldn’t even—”

“I saved myself,” Crowley insisted.

Aziraphale swallowed around the lump in his throat. “You shouldn’t have had to,” he said softly, heart fluttering like a wounded bird within the cage of his ribs.

Crowley made one of his incoherent little noises and then turned away, casting his angular features into profile. The corner of his mouth was pulled down in a frown, jaw grinding back and forth. Aziraphale wanted to reach out to him—to press love in the shape of fingerprints into his warm skin. However, he didn’t think his touch would be well-received at the moment.

Instead, he asked, “Will you tell me about it?”

Crowley looked at him out of the corner of his eye, seeming to consider him. “I think it’ll just upset you,” he finally said.

“I’m afraid that ship has sailed, my dear,” Aziraphale told him. His throat squeezed around the words as he spoke them, rasping against them until they were little more than a whisper. “Please tell me.”

The sigh that passed Crowley’s lips was an ancient thing—something he’d been carrying around for nearly a millennium in his chest. He rolled his neck back and forth. Then he said, “It was in Basel.”

“Switzerland?” Aziraphale asked, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t Switzerland at the time, but the sentiment is the same. That’s where it happened. Y-you remember how, after The Black Plague, there were—well, um, there was a lot of hatred towards the Jewish community?”

Aziraphale nodded once, a grim set to his mouth. “I remember,” he said. “The pogroms.”

The Jewish Black Death massacres. They’d started up in 1348 as a result of the plague sweeping across Europe and had lasted for a few years. Christians killing Jews because they thought they were somehow responsible for the disease that had ravaged the continent—that they had invoked the wrath of God or were poisoning the well water. Ridiculous, Aziraphale thought viciously.

Crowley uncrossed his arms so that he could gesticulate while he spoke. “Right. It was a crazy time; everyone was dying and people wanted someone to blame.”

“They usually do,” Aziraphale said without humor. He reached across the table for Crowley’s abandoned coffee, brushing his arm against the demon’s hip. “Human nature.”

“There’s nothing natural about wanting to wipe out an entire race or religion.”

“I don’t disagree.” He took a tentative sip of the coffee and grimaced, quickly holding it out to Crowley. “That is terrible,” he coughed, smacking his lips to try ridding himself of the burnt flavor.

“You just don’t have my exquisite taste,” Crowley sighed, taking the mug out of his hand. His fingertips slid across Aziraphale’s knuckles and an involuntary shiver ran up the angel’s spine. “Anyway, that’s what I was doing in Basel. My people had sent me there a few days before the massacre—I didn’t want to be there and I didn’t have anything to do with the previous pogroms in Savoy or Erfurt or Toulon, really. I think they just assumed I had.”

Aziraphale believed him. Though Crowley had definitely softened during the course of their 6000 year acquaintance, he had never seemed the type to tempt people into mass-slaughter. He was more the inconvenience-people-into-sinning kind of demon. He’d said so himself that, many times, the humans basically took care of the big stuff themselves. No tempting needed.

“And Basel is where you met the, uh, exorcist?” Aziraphale asked.

“Mm-hm,” Crowley mumbled, staring down into his mug with pursed lips. “And, really, I use the term exorcist extremely loosely. He wasn’t what I would consider a professional by any means. I think he just got lucky.”

What Aziraphale wanted to say was that, if the man had truly been an amateur, maybe it was Crowley who had gotten lucky. He bit his tongue, though. Crowley’s posture was hunched, defensive—his shoulders curled forward and his back bowed. His eyes had a distant, vaguely haunted look to them. So Aziraphale swallowed down his anxiety and waited.

Eventually, Crowley blinked like he was coming out of a trance and looked over at him. His yellow irises were blown out, encompassing his eyes. “He got me the day after the riot. There was still ash in the air from, um—from where the townspeople had locked the adults up and set the building on fire. There were kids that the Christians were forcibly converting and I was—I had been drinking. I just, uh—” Crowley paused. Took a breath. “I just don’t like it when they get kids involved.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said, infinitely gentle.

“Anyway, I think my—my glasses slipped and he saw my eyes or—I dunno, he smelled sulphur on me or something—”

You don’t smell like sulphur, Aziraphale thought, but didn’t dare interrupt. You smell like frankincense.

“—but I p-passed out or he knocked me out and the next thing I remember is that I was strung up somewhere. It was dark and smelled like—like hay and shit. Probably a barn. He, uh . . .”

Crowley trailed off, looking away again. He was running his nails along the rim of his mug, filling the silence with a low, chittering resonance that set Aziraphale’s teeth on edge. He longed to reach out and lay his hands over Crowley’s—to still them and imbibe some comfort. He linked his fingers together on the tabletop instead.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked in an even tone, trying to sound as though he wasn’t crawling out of his skin.

Crowley’s eyes skittered back over to him. Tension was evident in the set of his jaw and the stark whiteness of his knuckles where he gripped his mug. “Do you want to hear about it?”

Aziraphale frowned, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. He’d been present at an exorcism before. Rome, around the turn of the 19th century. He’d stood back and observed as two Catholic priests attempted to drive the demon Leraje from the body of a young woman.

It had laughed and snarled threats, and Aziraphale had felt its opalescent eyes rake over him. Then Father Cancio had begun chanting his Latin phrases and Father D’Agostino had thrown blessed oils and holy water in its face. The demon’s skin had split and steamed, blisters forming over blisters as Leraje writhed and shrieked. Its dirty fingers had gouged marks into the arms of the chair it was tied to, blood pooling along its cuticles as the nails snapped off, its joints buckling. It bit off the woman’s tongue—spat it onto the floor at their feet—and blood had boiled in its mouth as it shouted obscenities at them.

It had lasted for hours. In the end, Leraje had been exorcised and the woman had died in the chair. Aziraphale could still smell the blood; could still hear her skin sizzling under the holy water.

Then he imagined Crowley in Leraje’s place and his stomach turned so violently that he nearly threw up.

“I never want to hear about you getting hurt, my dear,” he eventually whispered. “But I am here if you want to—”

Crowley waved a hand, cutting him off. “No, I, uh—I’d rather not discuss the details of that, if it’s all the same to you, angel.”

Aziraphale’s breath left him in a messy rush and he felt lightheaded with relief. He had asked Crowley to tell him. He would listen if the demon wanted to explain what had happened to him during his own exorcism attempt, but Aziraphale would rather peel his own skin off than have those images in his head.

“Of course,” he said, voice weak.

Crowley set his mug down on the table behind him, then folded his arms across his midsection, hands grasping loosely at his own elbows. “In any case, after—after everything, I managed to get loose and kill the silly bugger.”

Good, Aziraphale thought viciously.

“I was in pretty bad shape,” Crowley continued, staring blankly off into the middle distance. There was a fine sheen of sweat glistening at his temple and Aziraphale watched his throat move with a swallow. “I got out of Basel and only just managed to make it to the next town before I collapsed. The exorcist—he didn’t have any holy water, thank Somebody, but he did have this, uh, I dunno—a coin or a pendant. I didn’t get a good look at it. It must’ve been a holy relic or something, because it burned like a blessed sonofabitch; left welts all over that I couldn’t heal.”

Crowley reached down absentmindedly and touched his side where Aziraphale knew the mark to be. “This one was the worst. It got infected and I got a fever. I’m sure you can imagine what that looked like back in 1349.”

A lump of dread settled in the pit of Aziraphale’s stomach, poisonous apprehension seeping out into the rest of his body like lead into drinking water. “Like you had the plague.”

Crowley clicked his tongue and said cheerlessly, “Got it in one, angel.”

“What happened?” Aziraphale asked and Crowley sighed wearily.

“The fever wiped me out—put me into a coma, most likely. The townspeople thought I had died, so they buried me in a mass grave with other plague victims—”

“What?” Aziraphale gasped, horrified.

“—and I don’t remember much after that. I discorporated at some point; wound up back in Hell. After lots of paperwork and whatnot, I got back topside around 1378.”

“Y-you discorporated? How—how did I not know that? You, erm—” Aziraphale stopped. Drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to center himself. When he opened them again, he found Crowley’s gaze on him. The yellow of his irises had retreated back to their centers. “You don’t look any different,” he told the demon. “You got—what? A-a copy of your body?”

“Did I mention: lots of paperwork,” Crowley said and Aziraphale was relieved to hear humor in his voice.

“1378?” he asked, then sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just in time for the Papal Schism, I see.”

“Three popes are three too many, angel.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he said lightly, letting a small smile pull at his mouth. Then he amended, “In this case.”

Crowley chuckled and the pressure seemed to ease off of his shoulders, the tension that had gathered around him like graveyard mist breaking apart and abating. The soft morning sun had transformed his hair into a coppery halo; it caressed his face, highlighting the delicate lines around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth.

Aziraphale watched him for a few moments, then asked hesitantly, “And, um—the mark was, uh, still there when you—when you came back?”

“Yeah,” Crowley said. “It was the only one. Everything else hadn’t left so much as a scar, but this one—it stayed. Dunno why. Maybe because it was the deepest wound or maybe because it was the one that eventually discorporated me. Or maybe Hell just left it there as a reminder when they remade my body.”

“A reminder?”

Crowley shrugged, the loose nonchalance he was trying to affect ruined by the way his eyes flitted away from Aziraphale’s face. “A reminder that I’m weak or—or maybe reliant on them?”

Aziraphale ached for him. His heart was a crushing weight in his chest. You aren’t weak, he thought.

He swallowed and lifted a hand towards Crowley, hovering just shy of touching him. “May I see?” he asked in a quiet voice.

There was a moment when he thought that Crowley would refuse; would push himself away from the table and disappear into the bedroom; would hole himself away and sleep for a hundred years. But then Crowley sighed, resigned. He reached down and lifted the edge of his shirt, pivoting slightly so that Aziraphale could view the back of his hip.

The mark was obvious, but Aziraphale let his eyes drag over the rest of Crowley’s golden skin before he examined it. He ran his gaze along the shallow dips between each rib, counted the lumps of his spine. Patches of freckles stood out like tiny galaxies.

“You’re beautiful,” he said absentmindedly. Then he blushed.

Crowley huffed out a laugh, relaxing. “Thank you, angel. You’re not so bad yourself.” Aziraphale looked up at him just in time to catch a cheeky wink. He rolled his eyes.

“You’re also ridiculous.”

“You like me.”

“I certainly do not,” Aziraphale said airily and his heart gave a little flutter when Crowley chuckled. With a smile, he returned to his perusal of the warm skin before him, finally letting himself look at the white mark on Crowley’s side.

It was smaller than Aziraphale had initially thought—no bigger than a two pence—and was almost perfectly round. He suspected that whatever had made the mark had been intricately decorated, but the curving lines it left behind were now blurred and he couldn’t make out any details.

“You didn’t try to miracle this away?” he asked.

“Oh, I did,” Crowley said, sounding resigned. “No good. It’s one scar that I can’t make go away.”

It doesn’t really look like a scar. More like a patch of vitiligo, he thought, reaching up unthinkingly to touch the mark. He laid his fingertips against its edge and Crowley hissed out a shocked breath.

Aziraphale jerked his hand back, distraught. “Oh, I’m sorry!” he stammered. “I-I didn’t—”

“You’re fine,” Crowley said, a slight tremble in his voice. His shirt was still pulled up, but he’d reached down to cover the mark with his own hand, rubbing at it. “Just startled me is all.”

Aziraphale watched him run his fingers along the skin, worry gnawing at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You can touch me, if you want.”

“Well, dear, I always want to touch you,” he said without thinking and with far more levity than he felt. Crowley lifted his eyebrows at him and Aziraphale huffed. “Oh, hush. You’re hardly scandalized.”

Crowley grinned. “Here,” he said with a little sigh and reached over to take ahold of Aziraphale’s hand. His grip was a loose circle around his wrist, fingertips stroking over his pulse point and sending frissons of pleasure up his arm. Crowley pulled and Aziraphale went willingly, his heart in his throat. He let the demon press his palm against the mark, his own fingers smoothing over the back of Aziraphale’s hand before he let go.

His skin was warm and pliant, and Aziraphale let himself enjoy having it beneath his fingers once again before he really focused on the mark. He ran a thumb along its edge. It was smooth, not raised like he expected a scar to be—more like a birthmark.

And then it struck Aziraphale. That’s exactly what it was: a birthmark. Crowley had been tortured, branded, killed, and then had carried the mark into his new body after his resurrection. A reminder of his failings.

Before he could think about what he was doing, Aziraphale leaned forward. He placed his lips over the mark, sucking a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the white skin. Above him, he heard Crowley hiss in a startled breath. Fingers wove through his hair, caressing his scalp.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, sounding breathless.

He kept his mouth where it was. Using his tongue and teeth and lips, he pressed love and reassurance down into the skin, marking Crowley’s side. The demon’s ragged breaths filled the kitchen and his fingers dragged through Aziraphale’s curls when he pulled back to examine his handiwork. Where the white birthmark had once been, the skin now stood out red and blotchy.

“Did you just give me a hickey?” Crowley asked, sounding equal parts offended and impressed.

“Not really,” Aziraphale said and passed a thumb over the red mark. Angelic power tingled like a static charge as he miracled the erythema away and Crowley gave a little jolt.

“Hey! What did you do?” he huffed and craned his neck to take a look.

Then he froze.

Aziraphale watched him, his pulse thrumming like hummingbird wings in his throat as Crowley touched the skin where the mark had once been. In its place, a mass of dark freckles now stood.

An angel’s kiss.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Aziraphale told him, his voice reedy. “I just—I adore you. I worship every inch of you. And if there is a part of you that causes you pain—a mark that reminded you of an event so traumatic you would despise an entire millennium because of it—Well, if I could take that mark away . . .”

Crowley looked up at him, his eyes wide, but said nothing. Aziraphale swallowed down the worry that threatened to choke him and continued.

“You aren’t weak,” he told Crowley. “You are wily and resilient and you care so much. I know that you’re a demon and you don’t want to hear it, but I see so much good in you that naming everything I love would be like counting the stars. I can’t do it. You are made of starlight. I wish that I was half as strong as—”

He didn’t get to finish. Crowley swooped down and caught his mouth in a bruising kiss. Aziraphale gasped into it and reached up to catch ahold of Crowley’s shoulders, hanging on. The demon’s fingers traced over the tops of his ears and down along his jawline as he kissed him, eliciting tiny shivers from Aziraphale.

It lasted only for a few seconds before Crowley retreated, playfully nipping at Aziraphale’s bottom lip as he went, but the angel was left winded. Crowley smiled at him, looking beautifully rumpled, and said, “Thank you, angel.”

It sounded remarkably like I love you, too.

Aziraphale grinned back, relief and happiness pouring out of his bones like sunlight and warming the garden blooming in his chest. His heart pounded. “You’re quite welcome, my dear.”

They spent a few moments quietly regarding one another, Crowley absentmindedly touching his side through his shirt. Then he reached out to Aziraphale, laying a hand against his cheek.

“I,” he said in a gentle voice, drawing out the syllable as he swept a thumb across the skin just beneath Aziraphale’s eye, “am going to take a shower.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Been asleep for a week,” Crowley said by way of explanation. He dropped his hand and pushed himself away from the table. Aziraphale watched him go, eyes drawn to the sway of his hips, and tried not to feel disappointment that Crowley was walking away instead of kissing him.

He sighed and mumbled, “Well then, I suppose I’ll make some tea.”

“Or you could join me?”

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley. He was standing in the kitchen entrance, leaning heavily against the doorframe. There was a smile on his face, and he looked soft and vulnerable in his too-big shirt and bare feet. Then his eyelids fluttered and his smile morphed into a predatory grin, lips curling up to reveal his straight, white teeth. Arousal dropped into Aziraphale’s stomach like a lead weight; his breath shuddered out of his lungs.

“C’mon, angel,” Crowley said, his voice a deep rumble like the beginnings of a summer storm. “I’ll put marks all over your skin this time.”

Then he disappeared through the doorway, leaving Aziraphale gaping in his wake. The angel sat there for a moment, listening as Crowley moved about on the other side of the small cottage. The shower started up.

Aziraphale thought about Crowley’s naked skin; about steam curling up around his legs and hips and back; about water beading along freckles instead of white birthmarks. He smiled and stood.

The tea could wait.

=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=

Based on the prompt: “Why does Crowley hate the 14th century?” Requested by @needscaffeine. This took FOREVER, as I had to wrestle it to the ground and get it back on track several times.

#good omens #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #fic prompt #fic request #crowley #aziraphale #angst #light angst #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #oneshot #this turned out a longer than i thought it would #holy jeebus it's a monster

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