Kinktober 2024

【 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡... 】

〖 𝑇𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒 〗 : Big Brother (TV Show)

〖 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 〗 :  If there's one thing you know for certain about Big Brother, it's to expect the unexpected. You certainly didn't expect Gavin to put you on the block, and you certainly didn't expect to have to beg for his forgiveness 

〖 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 〗 :  nsfw 18+, inappropriate use of the HoH room, ye old missionary, clothed sex, orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, pull out method, dirty talk, porn with plot

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The scalding studio lights of the Big Brother house buzz overhead as you watch Gavin at his place at the front of the table, nomination block in hand. Nerves prickle against your skin as you sink deeper into your chair, secretly wishing it'd swallow you whole.

You always thought that being in this house would be fun— a chance to play the game and maybe win big. Gavin, with his usual arrogance, had nominated you for eviction along with your closest ally. Your eyes met Connor's across from the table, and he gave you a soft, pitying look as your portraits showed up on the wall.

The nomination ceremony adjourns, and your chair scrapes against the kitchen floor as you stand. A whirlwind of emotions surges through you, and you're nearly on autopilot as your arms wrap around various houseguests.

You save Gavin for last, and time seems to slow as you meet his gaze. A week ago, you would've done anything for him. You were the first he ran to when he won Head of Household and the one he squeezed the tightest. That rush of exhilaration is long gone as he pulls you into a brief hug.

"Come talk to me later," he whispers against the shell of your ear before releasing you.

Your gaze hardens as you push him away from you. You make your way to one of the bedrooms, sulking. You wrap your arms around yourself, letting out a shaky breath as your face crumples and warm tears make their way down your cheeks. You push the heel of your hand into your eyes willing the tears to stop.

Gavin's been a wild card the entire season. His sharp tongue and overall unpleasant demeanor intimidates or pisses off most of the other house guests. Nevertheless, he draws you in. You, America's sweetheart, find yourself watching him more closely as the weeks pass. You notice how the side of his mouth quirks up when he's trying not to laugh at one of your jokes or the rare moments when his gaze lingers a bit too long.

The door to the bedroom you'd scurried off to clicks open, and you hurriedly wipe your face. Hank, one of the older houseguests you'd grown close to, enters the room, and his features soften as he meets your gaze.

"C'mere, kid," he says as he steps forward and pulls you into a hug. "It's nothing personal, you know that."

You doubt that it isn't personal with Gavin. Everything with him is personal, whether he means it to be or not. You'd spent countless nights whispering about anything and everything under the covers, sharing lingering glances that always had your cheeks flushing, and exchanging banter that walked the line between friendly and something more.

"Talk to him, kid," Hank urges as he releases you. He squeezes your shoulders and you nod, steeling yourself.

You wonder if all those nights meant nothing. Maybe it's just him playing the game and nothing more. The thought puts a bad taste in your mouth, and you frown.

Your heart races as you climb the stairs to the HoH room later that night after everyone else has gone to bed. You press the doorbell and stand outside the door, rocking on your feet as you wait for a response.