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bcksbarnes · 9 days ago

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flowers in hand

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: unfortunately for bucky barnes, he is head over heels in love with you, and when you want something, it doesn't take much convincing.

word count: 3.6K cw: 🔞 some suggestive content (minors do not interact)

a/n: based off of this request! lots and lots of fluff.

Bucky Barnes was an ex-brain washed assassin who had been broken down and beaten time and time again. He had seen horrors that would leave most people catatonic, he had done things that most people wouldn’t even dream of. This was not a man that wore his heart on his sleeve.

Stoic. Brooding. An absolute brute, to put it mildly.

But there was something that Bucky never wanted anyone to know. A secret he’d take to his grave and would deny if ever asked about it.

What was this secret? Simple.

Bucky was head over heels in love with you.

He knew it the second the two of you met. When you stretched out your hand and told him your name, he felt his knees buckle. When you asked him for his? A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. He was nervous . A reaction Bucky had never had before.

It sent him into a spiral for several days after the two of you met. Weeks, actually, if he was being honest.

Everything after that had fallen into place pretty quickly. You had liked Bucky as soon as you met him and before you knew it months had passed, the two of you quickly found yourself in a budding romance that needed nothing but water and sunlight to grow.

The hardest part of learning to fall in love again was that he was so taken aback by how his body and brain responded to you, it was a bit jarring. It was like his entire brain had awoken a part of himself that had been dormant for years. One yearning for love.

It showed in the way you would get home from work and your favorite flowers would be waiting on the kitchen table, powder blue hydrangeas, with a handwritten note alongside it. Bucky’s handwriting was a little scratchy and hard to make out, but you didn’t need to read it to know what it said:

Thinking of you always. - BB

Or when he took you on a joy ride on the back of his motorcycle, never wearing a helmet himself but making sure the straps were just right when he helped you get yours on. His hands would carefully click the buckle together, biting down on his bottom lip in concentration as he made sure it fit you perfectly.

He didn’t want you getting hurt, not on his watch.

That was it - his big secret. You had him wrapped around your finger. Something so mundane and, frankly, obvious.

Though you never went out of your way to use this knowledge to your advantage. Bucky always came running at the sound of your voice.

“Buck?” you called out one afternoon.

The sun was high in the sky, it was a beautiful day - maybe a little warmer than you liked, but the cool breeze offered some relief.

You were sitting on the balcony reading a book in your favorite spot, overlooking the city that Bucky had loved so much, and that you’ve learned to love with him. It was different from the one he lived in all those decades ago, the apartment he had lived in as a child was small, cramped - to look out the window was to face a family he never knew, living their own lives.

Now, in this decade, the apartment was spacious, overwhelming, the view encompassing the bridge and the East River separating the two boroughs.

A different life, a different time.

“Yeah?” he called back, the door to the balcony slightly ajar so you could both hear each other.

“Can you bring me my sunglasses?”

Bucky chuckled to himself at such a simple request. He was working on fixing some issues in the kitchen, a leaky faucet to be exact - the one that kept dripping. Bucky had a hard time falling asleep as it was, hearing the pitter patter in the middle of the night made him feel like he was going insane.

“Hold on, honey.”

He was currently laying on his back under the sink, his shirt was discarded somewhere next to him and his black mesh shorts rode a bit lower on his hips than he had purposely intended.

It only took him a few turns of his wrench to tighten the compression ring around the pipe in hopes that it would stop the leaking.

“That should be it.”

A few moments passed as he placed the wrench down next to him. He held his breath, but Bucky, unfortunately, a second later felt another water droplet land on his forehead: unsuccessful.

“Shit,” he mumbles to himself before gripping the side of the counter and pulling himself out from under the cabinet.

Bucky hated that this wasn’t working - honestly, he wanted to run to the store and grab some new PVC pipes and just fix the entire thing from scratch. But, your request ran through his head and he quickly pivoted his priorities as he stood up, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Where’d you put them?” he calls, trying to look in the usual spots before finally stumbling on them. “Nevermind.”

You hear the door swing open, his footsteps alerting his presence but your attention stayed on the book in your lap, wanting to finish the page you were on.

“I couldn’t find them,” he says.

When you finally finished the passage, you placed the bookmark in the between the pages, saving it for another time.

Your head turned to look up at Bucky, his metal arm glistening in the sun and your sunglasses sitting right on his face - that goofy smile of his plastered on his features as he waits for you to notice.

A loud chuckle passes your lips as you reach your hand out for them, shaking your head as he slides them off the bridge of his nose and into the palm of your hands. Once you grab them from him, you put the glasses on, the world dimming a bit, but Bucky still shines bright in front of you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, tilting your head back to admire his half dressed physique. You whistle lowly, causing Bucky to roll his eyes at you. “Were you working on the sink? Sorry, I didn’t even realize.”

“Yeah,” he responds, taking a step closer.

Bucky gestures for you to move over and make room for him, groaning as he finally sits down. His arm rests on the back of the sectional while his fingers run through the hair on the back of your neck.

“I thought I’d be able to fix it by tightening it, but I think the pipe itself has a crack somewhere,” he huffs out, shaking his head. “I’ll have to go to the store later.”

You watch him carefully, your hand holding the book on your lap moving to rest on his thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You could see the concentration in his face, the way his brows furrowed until there was a crease between them. He hated unfinished projects.

“You’re not going to rest until it’s fixed, are you?” you ask, though it’s a question you already know the answer to.

“Absolutely not,” he shakes his head. “Why? Have something in mind for us today?”

“I thought maybe we could go to the park later” you hummed, your fingers tracing shapes into his skin. You tilt your head back to look at him, both of your eyes meeting. “They’re doing a movie night. Raiders of the Lost Ark, if I remember correctly.”

Bucky’s other leg bounced anxiously at the thought, it’s not that he didn’t want to go with you - it’s that he really wanted to fix this stupid sink.

He peaked over at his watch, it was nearly 5:30pm. The store would be closing soon, he’d have to find the right parts then fix the sink, and shower at some point before he’d be ready to go. He didn’t know if he had time to do both the movie and finish this project.

His eyes trail back over towards you and he was greeted with the most beautiful pair he’d ever seen. Were you batting your eyelashes too?

“You play dirty,” Bucky mumbles.

He brings his metal hand up to your face, squeezing your cheeks softly as he leans in to press a few soft, chaste kisses to your lips. He mumbles something about how unfair it is, but you’re so wrapped up in the feeling of his lips you don’t even care what he says.

Bucky begins to stand from his seat, though he doesn’t remove himself from your lips, hunched over to make sure he stays closely connected to you. Your hands now resting on his abdomen as if to keep him in place.

“I have to shower,” he hums against your lips. “And if the movie sucks I’m coming home and ripping the sink apart.”

“You did not just say that Raiders of the Lost Ark is going to suck.”

Bucky chuckles as he trails his lips down your jaw to your neck, giving it a few kisses and a quick bite before he pulls back completely, that same love stricken look on his face.

“I did. I mean it too,” he teases, backing up until he gets to the door of the balcony.

“You’re going to be very upset when you’re wrong, Barnes,” you call out after him.

He gives you a quick wink before dipping back inside the apartment.

You take one last look over the balcony, the cars that were passing over the bridge and the people walking on the streets below. All of them had their own little story. It makes you smile to yourself, thinking of this little life you had built with Bucky.

It kept you both going.

Finally standing, you stretched your arms over your head and grabbed your book before heading back inside the apartment. The cover made a soft thud as you set it down on the coffee table on your way over to the kitchen.

The sound of the shower trickling had your thoughts distracted, even as you began packing the tote bag. You tried to keep your focus on all the goods you wanted to bring and not your very naked boyfriend some 50 feet away from you behind one, probably not locked, door.

How easy it would be to slip in.

You shake your head and focus on the task at hand, packing the bag with: a blanket to sit on, two lime sparkling waters that Bucky had picked up a few days ago, and a mix of snacks to enjoy. The perfect picnic.

Right as you finished, you hear the door open and Bucky step out of the bathroom, the warm steam filling your apartment almost immediately. He looks striking with the towel draped around his hips, his almost freshly cut short hair now wet and combed back.

“You didn’t join me,” he teases, making his way past you and into the bedroom.

“I want to make the movie,” you say back, a smirk on your features. You knew well enough that if you took a step in that shower, Bucky would never let you leave.

The sound of shuffling comes from the other room as you can hear him looking through drawers and the closet for his clothes. Your feet walk you into the bedroom right as he slips his boxers on, a smile on his features as he catches your gaze.

He didn’t want to go out to the park and watch a movie. He didn’t even care about that stupid leak under the sink that he could still hear and was driving him up a wall.

No, he wanted to stay here with you and show you all the ways he loved and adored you. He wanted to worship you with everything he’s got.

His hand reaches out for you and he intertwines your fingers together before he pulls you towards him. You happily oblige.

“You’re still thinking about that damn leak aren’t you?” you whisper, your voice filled with jest.

“Every fucking second.”

The smile on his face is wide as he brings his hands up to your face and kisses your cheeks once, twice, three times, causing a soft laugh to leave your lips. In one fluid motion his hands are under your thighs and lifts you up, placing you on the dresser behind you.

He slots himself between your legs and watches you closely, your hands moving to grip his wrists.

“Let’s stay here,” Bucky pleads softly. “Let’s never leave this apartment ever again.”

“I’d love to never have to do that, but you know that’s impossible.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Not with that attitude, sweetheart.”

He manages to get his hands free from your wrists, sliding them down to your hips and pulling you forward until your legs wrap around his waist, your heels resting on the back of his thighs.

“Bucky,” you groan.

Your head falls back softly against the wall, in the same motion Bucky rests his head on your shoulder.

“Wishful thinking, huh?” he asks, a sigh leaving his lips afterwards.

It’s not that he hated the power that you had over him, it was that he didn’t know how you managed to affect him so much. You didn’t even put up a fight with him and he folded, all because you said his name.

He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before he untangled himself from you and moved to get dressed - a pair of black jeans, a t-shirt that was a little too tight around his muscles and a sweatshirt he knows you’re going to steal at some point.

Finally ready to go.

It only took a few minutes to get to the park. You’re greeted by a sea of people, most of whom have already laid out their lounge chairs or blankets. The sun hadn’t set yet, casting a warm glow as you two found a spot a little bit away from the rest of the crowd. More secluded, but you two would still be able to see and hear the movie just fine.

Bucky helped set up the blanket, a long red gingham pattern one that he may have muttered a sarcastic comment about how cliche it was. You may have, lovingly, given him the finger in response.

The movie started only a few minutes after you and Bucky set up the snacks and drinks. Both of you were laying on your sides, elbows planted on the blanket while hands kept your head off the ground.

Bucky was very into the movie, barely sneaking glances over at you like he normally did whenever. It captured his attention almost immediately. You watched as he popped a grape into his mouth, his tired eyes trained on the screen in front of him as he absentmindedly chewed.

It was calming to see him in this environment. You knew that deep down he would never 100% be present, that he always kept one part of his brain active to scan for any potential threats. But seeing Bucky in a state of, mostly, ease felt like finding a diamond in the rough. Rare, but valuable.

Halfway through the movie Bucky moves to sit up, stretching his arms over his head before holding his hand out to you. He always seemed to be reaching for you. Once your hand is in his, one swift motion is all it takes for him to pull you into his lap, nestling you between his legs, your back now resting against his chest.

His hands move to run down your arm and he can feel the goosebumps rising against your skin.

“You’re cold,” he mumbles in your ear.

You want to protest that it’s just from his touch, but the words die in the back of your throat as soon as you feel him sit back from you. He pulls off his sweatshirt and hands it over, watching as you carefully slip on the oversized material. Bucky wraps his arms around your torso once you’re settled, pulling you back as close as he can before resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Much better.”

Your heart flutters, as it seems it always does when he acts this way.

Cuddly. Soft. In love.

Bucky feels like his heart is bleeding out right through his shirt at this moment, you could tell him to do anything in front of this crowd of people and he would comply without hesitation. He didn’t even care.

Maybe that was the thing that kept him going in this life. The little pieces of calm he can get when you are around. When the tides don’t feel as strong.

He didn’t want to think about it, he wanted to enjoy himself: your presence, and the movie.

It’s a little while later when the movie finally finished, you craned your head back to look up at him, a smirk on your lips. He was staring ahead at the now blank screen, jaw slightly dropped.

“I thought you said the movie was going to suck,” you teased.”

“I didn’t know I was coming to see a cinematic masterpiece.”

You let out a laugh, and then another one as Bucky squeezes your sides as his response, falling back over his thigh as you wriggle to try and get away from his wandering, playful hans.

God, he wished you weren’t in public right now.

“And here you wanted to stay at home to fix that stupid sink.”

“No, I wanted to stay home so I could –”

“ Bucky ,” you cut him off before he can finish that thought, watching as a family walks past.

He lets out a scoff that sounds more like a laugh and pinches your side again as you start to stand up from his lap. Bucky admires you from this angle, the way that you towered over him was so jarring compared to how small you normally were when he stood next to you.

“I was going to say so I could take care of you , but if you were worried I was going to say something more vulgar than you need to get your mind out of the gutter, sweetheart.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

Bucky’s smile reaches his eyes this time as he throws his head back and lets out a laugh. You were so right and he loved being called out on it, because he loved how well you knew him.

He stands to help you pack the tote bag again, throwing it over his shoulder when it’s done. You grab his metal hand and intertwine your fingers together as you make your way back to the apartment.

The city was dark now, only illuminated by street lamps and a few fluorescent signs. Surprisingly the neighborhood was mostly empty, you and Bucky seeming to take up most of the sidewalk and filling the silence with your chit chat about the movie.

Bucky was blown away by the story, the action … well the whole thing.

You were biting back your tongue to not say I told you so .

“You always get your way, you know that?” he says once you're in the lobby waiting for the elevator. “I don’t think I’m capable of saying no to you if I really tried.”

“That’s not true,” you respond.

Though if you take a second to think about it, he’s probably right.

The elevator dings its arrival and dips slightly from the weight of the two of you as you step on. You press the button for your floor a few times before turning your attention back to Bucky. He’s standing right next to you, his hand slipping out of yours to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you against his side. Your head leans to rest against him, it always fits perfectly.

“It’s a little true,” he says with a shrug. “I’m not complaining.”

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“I’ve never had anyone to care about. Not in this way at least.”

“You cared about Steve.”

“That’s different,” he sighs. “I made sure Steve stayed alive. I didn’t dote over him. I look at you and I’d drop everything just to see that damn smile on your face.”

The blush developed on your cheeks at record speed, a smile accompanying it that was hard to hold back. Sometimes Bucky had a way with words that took your breath away. He could be deeply poetic. It made you wonder what he thought of in that brain of his.

“There it is,” he whispers, his gaze flickering down to your lips.

The ding of the elevator snaps the moment back into reality, but that doesn’t deter Bucky in the slightest.

No, instead he follows you down the hall and into the apartment, waiting for the door to shut before he picks you up from behind and walks you to the bedroom to toss you on the bed - the sound of your giggles filling the air.

The second you hit the mattress, and he crawls on top of you, your hands grab his face bringing him down to kiss him feverishly. It’s rushed and messy, tongues sweeping across lips, teeth biting and pulling.

You don’t need to tell him you need him for Bucky to know it, he can read you like an open book.

As he kisses down your jaw – his stubble scratching your soft skin, hands moving to slide your shirt up, ready to spend the night devouring you – all he can think about is how his love for you is the worst kept secret in the world. And not about the stupid leaky faucet.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #james barnes #james barnes fluff #bucky fluff #mine #one shot #100 #200 #500 #1K

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blueberrisdove-sideblog · 1 month ago

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𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐋, － 𝒻𝓉． ℳ𝒴𝒟ℰℐℳ𝒪𝒮

✧ tws : fem!reader. nsfw/smut, rough s*x, p*ssy eating, overstimulation, c*mplay, creampie (vaginal s*x), degradation, mydei plays with your aśś, marking, biting and manhandling.

✧ synopsis : Sitting on Mydei’s throne should’ve felt like power, but with him kneeling between your legs, devouring you like you’re his last meal, it’s clear who’s really in control. His touch is rough, his tongue relentless, and by the time he finally presses his cock inside you, you’re already ruined. He fucks you like he owns you—because he does. And when he spills deep inside, filling you to the brim, he makes one thing clear: you’re not leaving his throne until he’s had his fill.

note : art header is by : rororo_mg on X. minors do not interact.

The cold metal of Mydei’s throne presses against your bare thighs, the sheer weight of his presence settling between them as he kneels before you. His large hands, rough and calloused, grip your hips, keeping you spread wide for him. His golden eyes gleam with something dark and possessive, his smirk lazy but hungry as he leans in, pressing a teasing kiss against your inner thigh.

“Baby,” he murmurs, voice deep and smooth like honeyed wine, “look at you sittin’ all pretty on my throne. Think you deserve it?”

You can barely think, barely breathe, with the way his breath ghosts over your soaked folds. His fingers dig into the plush of your thighs, keeping you open, vulnerable—helpless beneath his gaze. The cool air against your slick heat makes you squirm, but he only chuckles, tilting his head.

“Don’t run from me now,” Mydei drawls, dragging his tongue up your slit in a slow, deliberate stroke that makes you jolt. He groans against you, lapping up the wetness that spills onto his tongue. “Shit… you taste fuckin’ sweet.”

His mouth is sinful, his tongue curling around your clit, flicking and sucking with the perfect amount of pressure. He devours you like you’re his last meal, hands tightening their grip every time your hips try to jerk away from the overwhelming pleasure.

You whimper, hands tangling in his dark locks, tugging helplessly as he buries himself between your thighs. He moans into your cunt, sending vibrations up your spine, his fingers slipping between your folds to spread you open further for his tongue.

“Mydei—!” you cry, thighs trembling around his head.

“Yeah, baby?” His words are muffled, spoken against your dripping heat before he sucks your clit into his mouth, making your back arch off the throne. His fingers sink into you, curling just right, stretching you open as he devours you like a man starved.

His throne was built for him, but right now, he’s worshiping at your feet. And from the way he’s eating you out—like he’d rather suffocate between your thighs than breathe—you might just have him wrapped around your finger.

But then he growls against your cunt, eyes dark as he meets your gaze.

“No,” he murmurs, licking the slick from his lips. “You’re the one who belongs to me.”

And with that, he presses you down against the throne, holding you in place as he feasts on you until all you can do is scream his name.

Mydei doesn’t stop. He never does. Not until you’re a shaking mess on his throne, your legs locked around his head, your voice hoarse from crying his name. His tongue works you open with slow, teasing licks before plunging back in, his fingers thrusting deep, curling just right—just how he knows makes you break.

You’re soaked, dripping down onto the throne, onto his face, and the sight of him between your legs—golden eyes hooded, lips glossy with your slick—is enough to have you clenching around his fingers. He groans at the feeling, his cock straining against his pants, aching to be inside you.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, pulling back just enough to breathe, to watch the way you tremble. His fingers pull out of you, dragging through your wetness before he licks them clean, smirking when your breath catches. “You’re gonna take me now, yeah?”

You barely have time to nod before he’s undoing his belt, freeing his cock from his tight pants. He’s thick, flushed, leaking at the tip, and the sight alone makes your cunt clench in anticipation. Mydei leans over you, caging you against the throne as he lines himself up, rubbing the swollen head of his cock against your entrance.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “Yours, Mydei—please, just—”

He thrusts in all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs. The stretch burns, your walls clamping down around him, but fuck, it feels so good. He groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Shit,” he hisses, his hands gripping your thighs, pushing them up to fold you beneath him. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby. Always takin’ me so well.”

He doesn’t wait. Mydei fucks you like he owns you—because he does. His cock drags against your walls, hitting deep with every thrust, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the grand throne room. His grip is bruising, his pace relentless, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he growls against your skin.

Your moans turn into broken cries, pleasure coiling deep in your gut, winding tighter with every rough snap of his hips. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast, and that’s what does it—your body seizing as your orgasm crashes through you, leaving you gasping, legs trembling as you milk his cock.

Mydei curses, his rhythm stuttering, his thrusts growing erratic as he buries himself as deep as he can go. His cock twitches, his grip tightening, and then—warmth floods you, his cum spilling deep inside, filling you up until you feel like you might overflow. He stays there, panting against your neck, rocking his hips just enough to push it deeper.

After a moment, he pulls back, dragging a hand through his damp hair as he looks down at you—fucked-out and still spread open on his throne, his cum leaking out of you. A smirk tugs at his lips as he gathers some on his fingers, pushing it back inside with a lazy hum.

“Not done with you yet, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your lips, his cock already hardening again. “You’re sittin’ on my throne. That means you gotta handle everything I give you.”

Mydei doesn’t give you a chance to recover. His hands grip your thighs, keeping them spread as he watches his cum leak from your overstimulated cunt, glistening against your skin. His golden eyes darken with something possessive, something insatiable.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, dragging his thumb through the mess he’s made, pushing it back inside with slow, deliberate strokes. “You’re still so fuckin’ full, baby… but I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you can respond, he’s lifting you, turning you over so you’re kneeling on the throne, ass up, your face pressed against the cool metal. His large hands spread you open, admiring the way his cum drips down your thighs. You shiver as his fingers tease between your folds, smearing the mix of your slick and his release.

“Stay just like that,” Mydei growls, his voice thick with hunger. “Gonna make sure you really know who you belong to.”

The blunt head of his cock presses against your soaked entrance again, and he thrusts in without warning, forcing a strangled moan from your lips. The new angle has him hitting even deeper, his cock stretching you open all over again, pushing the cum inside even further.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, gripping your hips tight as he starts moving, his pace rough, unrelenting. “You feel so good like this… takin’ me so fuckin’ well.”

Each thrust slams you forward, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the grand throne room. He grips your ass, spreading you wider, his fingers digging into the plush flesh as he watches his cock disappear inside you over and over.

“You were made for this,” he mutters, dragging a hand up your spine before tangling it in your hair, yanking your head back so you arch for him. “Made to be fucked right here, on my throne.”

His hand slides down, palm smacking against your ass, the sharp sting sending heat straight to your core. He groans at the way you clench around him, his thrusts growing rougher, more desperate.

“Mydei—!” you cry, your body trembling as another orgasm crashes over you, your walls tightening around his cock. He curses, his rhythm stuttering as your tight heat milks him, dragging him to his own release.

With a low growl, he slams deep one final time, spilling inside you again, his cum filling you up until it leaks past the tight seal of your cunt. He stays there, panting, pressing kisses to your shoulder as he watches it drip down your thighs.

After a moment, he pulls out, watching his seed spill from your spent hole. He smirks, gripping your hips to keep you from collapsing.

“Don’t think we’re done yet, baby,” Mydei purrs, running his fingers through the mess between your legs before pressing them against your other hole, smearing his cum over the tight ring of muscle. “I said I was gonna fill you up, didn’t I?”

His cock is already hardening again. And from the way he spreads you open, teasing at your untouched hole, you know he means it.

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miupow · 9 months ago

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★ ── EST-CE QUE TU AIMES LE SEXE 。。。?

what happens when you give the boys an aphrodisiac 。。。 (requested)

╭♡ PAIRING 。〃txt ot5 x fem!reader ! GENRE 。〃pure filthy smut ! WARNINGS 。〃minors do not interact ! aphrodisiacs , breeding kink , unprotected sex , creampie mentions , mommy mention , public sex , exhibitionism , oral (m. receiving) , hair pulling , oral (f. rec) , squirting , mating press , slight somno if you squint , anal mention (my obsession with kai and anal will never end)

𝕾OOBIN ⸝⸝

he didn’t believe it for a second, all of those overblown testimonials printed on the chocolate’s wrapping; he agreed to take it with you simply because you had gone out of your way to surprise him with the sweet, your flirty excited smile and sparkling eyes enough to get him to agree to anything at all.

imagine his surprise when a primal lust overtakes him like something he had never felt before, his eyes greedy in its appraisal of your pretty face, your collarbones, your breasts. he felt possessed, just couldn’t stop himself from taking ahold of you and marking up your heated skin. you moan so pretty underneath him, clearly affected just as much as he was; with his bunny lips suctioned around your perky nipple, top pulled down for your tits to spill out, soobin is overtaken with an inhuman need to not just fuck you, but breed you. make you his forever, fill your womb with his love.

“can i cum inside?” he pants into your tits as his fat cockhead kisses your cervix, hips moving at a speed impossible to keep up with. “please, honey, can i? wanna— wanna put a baby in you, make you a mommy, please!”

𝖄EONJUN ⸝⸝

yeonjun has to make a game out of it, simply because that’s what he loves to do the most; play with you like a toy, and have you do the same to him. share some aphrodisiac chocolates he saw online before you go out on a date, see who can last the longest before you both can’t take it anymore. you bet everything that yeonjun breaks first.

you think it’ll be easy, that there was no way a little chocolate could effect you that much, but soon you’re burning up in your little tight dress, rubbing your thighs together to soothe the ache that had settled in your cunt. and yeonjun fares no better, pink in the face and squirming in his seat, too busy looking at you to focus on his expensive meal— you can’t help but slide your hand down under the table to feel if he was as hard as you thought he was.

you win just as you knew you would, yeonjun pulling you out of your seat and to the bathroom without a word; you giggle as your knees hit the tile floor, feeling triumphant even with your boyfriends cock down your throat in the bathroom of a fancy restaurant. you choke and gag around his shaft as he whispers to you every little detail of what he plans to do to you later, hand tugging at your hair and brutal pace so different than the adoration in his eyes as he fills your mouth up with his cum. “can’t ever get enough of you,” he coos, caressing your swollen cheeks, “even without the chocolates.”

𝕭EOMGYU ⸝⸝

beomgyu is willing to try anything once, especially when it comes to his dick— he’s so adventurous, in fact, that he’s always coming to you with crazier and crazier ideas, lopsided and salacious grin always managing to convince you to do whatever he wants with wet panties. he’s the one who brings the candies home, goads you into eating the entire box with him until your kisses turned heated and sticky.

“need more,” he gasps against your lips, cock tenting his jeans and bucking against your inner thigh, nimble fingers tearing you out of your clothes, “need to be inside of you..” you let him manhandle you with ease, preening as he pulls your panties to the side and delivers playful spanks to your dripping folds.

he slides his throbbing cock in with barely any prep at all, so wet you don’t even need it ; your pussy squelches loud and obscene as he bottoms out, makes beomgyu throw his head back and groan deep in his chest. you watch over your shoulder as his adams apple bobs, your chest against the mattress with your ass up in the air, held still with beomgyu’s big hands gripping tight to your hips. “fuck yeah, take it—!” he hisses, beginning to thrust in and out of your sloppy hole at an overwhelming strength and speed. “such tight fuckin’ pussy, all for me, yeah? say it, tell me whose pussy this is! fuck, i’m gonna cum already..”

𝕿AEHYUN ⸝⸝

he refuses to try them at all at first, calls them dumb placebos when you point to a display of “aphrodisiac” chocolates excitedly in the sex shop. but you don’t stop bringing them up, and taehyun would do anything if it made you happy… so he caves in and purchases them as a surprise, pulls them out one night when it’s just you and him.

he fully expects for nothing to happen at all, yet in under an hour he’s all over you, face buried between your legs as he fists his thick cock— he’s so hard it hurts, twitching and throbbing, fat tip almost purple, but he just can’t seem to tear his mouth away from your wet little pussy. “tastes so fucking good,” he moans against your engorged clit, the vibrations making you cry out. “can’t get enough..”

he doesn’t stop until you’ve squirted all over his face, his chin dripping with it as he throws your legs over his shoulders and bullies his cock into your fluttering hole. the stretch is overwhelming in the best possible way, taehyun immediately beginning to thrust up against your cervix like a man possessed. you plead with him to slow down, pussy still sensitive from your orgasm, but he’s deaf to your cries— pounding into you at a dizzying pace, those sharp teeth grit like an animal. “can’t stop,” he pants, hiking up his leg to thrust into you impossibly harder, deeper. “i gotta make you cum again!”

𝕳UENING𝕶AI⸝⸝

kai is already so insatiable, giving him an aphrodisiac was a mistake— he hasn’t let you leave the bed in hours, the both of you exhausted and sore but still so horny. your swollen abused holes leak thick globs of his cum, staining the sheets but neither of you have the energy to be bothered. not when you were so cozy in his arms, his broad chest against your back as you both drifted in and out of sleep.

you squeak in surprise when you feel kai’s hips grind lazily against the swell of your ass, cock still hard even after the countless loads he’s pumped into your womb; it slides hot and heavy between your asscheeks, teasing your gaping creampied asshole, makes your pussy ache for attention despite how worn out you were. without a thought you lift up your leg to give kai the access to slide up between your wet pussy lips.

“can you take more?” kai whispers into your ear, voice deep and groggy, and you can’t stop yourself from nodding, pushing your ass up against him. his big cock slips in so easily, tiny pussy that usually needs so much prep sucking him in so greedily, aided by all of his cum. you both moan in sync as he bottoms out, fat flared cockhead kissing your bartered cervix so sweetly. “i’ll be gentle, baby, i promise.” he purrs, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

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cordelianewman · 7 months ago

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Excited, not really nervous. Other than wondering what the weather will be like and asking the girls to be in my morning getting ready party. We're not having a traditional wedding party where we'll have bridesmaids and groomsmen but we want our friends with us when we get ready the morning of. I haven't yet that'll be my top thing to do after we get done with the wedding! Fall is a wonderful time of year isn't it? I love that I'm breaking out my favorite sweaters and outfits again. I did enjoy it, a lot actually. How can I not? What about you?

How are you feeling? Excited? Nervous? Okay, you have a little bit to go until then, in that case. Did you ask Raf about shadowing someone in the office in the meantime? Creek Fest went great! I did spend quite a bit of it helping out at our office's tent but even then, the start of fall is one my favorite things. So, Creek Fest is a highlight, no matter what. Did you get to enjoy the festival?

#✧ * º • — words dripping like honey ⎧interactions.⎫#✧ * º • — filling up the empty space ⎧reyna.⎫

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swordsandholly · 1 year ago

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Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

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darlingdaisyfarm · 7 months ago

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˚⋆｡ thinking about Ford who. . .✧˚ (x fem!reader)

minors don’t interact

Who can’t help himself.

His mind never really stops working, even when he’s inside you, moving so slow that has you writhing beneath him. His cock buried inside you, stretching you out inch by inch, but even now, his thoughts are somewhere between the galaxies and the stars. His cock pulses inside you, making you feel so good, but it’s not enough and yet he's still talking about the fabric of the universe.

“You know. . . mmm, parallel dimensions have an infinite number of variables, but if you—" his breath hitches as he rolls his hips deeper, forcing your body to arch. “if you narrow them to specific constants you find— hahh, patterns.” little moan escapes your lips, needy, as his cock drags slowly against your walls.

His voice is calm, even steady despite the unhurried, delicious way he's fucking you, but you're barely listening. How could you? Every thrust has your mind blanking, leaving nothing but pleasure pooling low in your belly. Your nails digging into his back, you feel so abandoned each time he pulls out, only to have him slide back in with agonizing precision.

"Forddd. . .” you moan, head falling back into the pillow, begging for more, for faster. But his rhythm is controlled, measured, its like he’s savouring the way your cunt grips him, tight and so damn warm as he’s balls deep inside you.

“Dimensional travel. . . it’s not just theoretical, you see,” Ford’s voice is calm, as if he’s lecturing a class and not thrusting into your slick, dripping pussy, as if you’re not clenching around him so tight it’s driving you both insane. “If we can manipulate space-time— like this. . .” he punctuates his words with a deep thrust, his cock dragging against your soft walls in a way that makes your whole body shake. “we can alter outcomes. Mm, t-that means every choice you make branches into— fuck, you’re tight— into infinite possibilities.”

You can hardly breathe, can barely think because of the pressure building between your legs and he’s still talking. God, he’s still talking. You hear him, even if barely, something about gravitational fields and parallel worlds, but it’s all turning into a blur with your eyes rolling in the back of your head when he hits that sweet spot inside again and again.

“You like it when I explain things to you,” Ford claims. “It turns you on, doesn’t it?”

You can’t even find the words to respond, because yes, you love it and fuck, you hate that you love it. All you can do is mewl and whimper, your hips rolling against him in a futile attempt to make him pick up the pace. He knows, god, he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Ford, please—!” his cock slides deeper, but that serious, calm tone, fuck, it’s driving you wild. You want him to stop talking, to focus, to pound into you like you need, but his voice just keeps spilling from his lips like honey. Your head rolls back, lips parting in pathetic little gasps and moans, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You can’t take it anymore, he’s teasing you, playing with you, dragging it out just to see how far he can push you before you break. “please, faster!” you plead, desperate for more, desperate for him to stop talking and just fuck you properly, hard and fast. But he’s still so calm, still so fucking unflappable.

“Oh? you’re getting impatient?” Ford’s hand slides down your trembling thigh, lifting it higher, opening you up even more to him. “You wanted to learn about interdimensional physics, didn’t you?” he mumbles under his breath as he grinds into you, his cock plunging deeper, completely filling you and it feels like a dream for both of you. “I’m just giving you what you wanted.”

His fingers find your needy clit, rubbing in torturous circles as he continues that slow rhythm inside you. He’s barely breaking a sweat, his brow furrowed in concentration as if this is just another experiment to him meanwhile you’re such a mess under him. His cock twitches inside you as he changes angle again, deeper now and he takes a sharp breath, but he doesn’t stop talking.

He doesn’t stop and you hate him.

Ford’s eyes roam over your trembling body, reveling in the sight of you, desperate and needy. Your eyes watery and mouth open in a breathless moan.

“The fascinating thing about dimensional shifts— god, you feel so good,” he trails off for a moment, and you think, finally, he’s losing focus. You roll your hips against his, hoping to break his composure. But instead of faltering, he chuckles, leaning down only to plant a small kiss on your lips. “you’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, p-pleasee!” you whine, spreading your legs wider, trying to press up against him, but he pins you down.

“Clever girl,” he mutters, voice rougher now, losing some of that composed edge as he looks at you, the desperate need written all over your cute face. “letting me teach you like this.”

He pulls out, almost completely, leaving you aching, empty, before slamming back into you hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs. "That’s my girl." his words make you cry out his name over and over again, your nails digging into his back as he starts to fuck you better, properly, his pace quicker, rougher now, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

He’s no longer focused on explaining the mysteries of the universe, he’s focused on you, on how your body responds to him, on how good it feels to have you wrapped around him, hot and wet and perfect, on how your wetness and slick coating his length. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the air, mixing with your desperate, needy moans and his groans when he finally fucks you the way you wanted, he ruts into you faster, harder, and it’s everything you needed, everything you craved.

“Ford— oh fuck,” you cry out, head thrown back and he’s there, finally losing himself in the way your cunt clenching around him, making such wet squelching sounds, he’s lost in the way you’re moaning his name, voice so beautiful. You’re nearly drooling as you give him a silly smile, begging him to finish inside you.

“Cum for me,” he growls, his hand sliding down, thumb finding your clit and pressing down in fast circles what makes your head spin. “I want to feel you— cum for me, now.” you arch your back as the orgasm crashes through you, you walls flutter around him, the sensations are so intense you can’t even scream, only shake and try to cross your legs because pleasure is fucking overwhelming, though Ford never stops thrusting into your wetness. You’re trembling, mind blank as you cling onto him, holding him, feeling him.

Ford groans at the beautiful sight, his clever girl looks so pretty when she’s dumb fucked and cock drunk. However Ford is lost in pleasure too, your pussy feels so warm, so tight and good he just can’t stop fucking you. But he’s damn close. He grits his teeth, taking a deep breath, thrusting into you so hard, burying himself so fucking deep, his cock twitching as he spills into you, filling you up with every last drop. Finally, finally. He’s breathing heavily into your lips, glasses fogged, his chest heaving. You just lay there, taking it like a good girl you are.

Ford can’t stop looking at you, he kisses your forehead, softly and gentle. “Now. . . where were we? Ah, yes. Dimensional theory.”

You can’t help but laugh, head still spinning as he pulls you close, already starting to ramble again about parallel worlds and universal constants, like he wasn’t just inside you, fucking you senseless.

And honestly you wouldn’t have him any other way.

#gravity falls stanford #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #x reader #gravity falls smut #ford pines smut #stanford pines #gravity falls #stanford pines x reader #ford pines x reader #ford x reader #ford pines #gravity falls ford #stanford pines x you #smut

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cordelianewman · 9 months ago

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Eggs were a staple in Cordelia's house, she was actually not even sure how many they went through in a week if she was being honest. They lucked out from having chickens on their property, and not needing to run down to the local market all the time. "I've not had paneer, I don't think." she said, it not having sounded familiar but she might have had it in a dish not realizing it, she was always pretty open with trying new things. "But I have had halloumi and it's delicious, and they do have it!" she said. "And there's always chocolate with crunchy bits in it but I would say both. Cookies and chocolate. Both are different things and hit different at different times."

"I definitely have eggs," Meera replied with a nod. "But you are right about protein, I was going to get some paneer but they don't have any. I wonder if they have any halloumi." Grinning at Cordelia she nodded towards the next aisle, "I actually think I might get some cookies rather than chocolate since I want something crunchy. Ooh unless I find chocolate with crunchy bits in it."

#✧ * º • — words dripping like honey ⎧interactions.⎫#✧ * º • — filling up the empty space ⎧meera.⎫

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cordelianewman · 1 year ago

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So, this is totally possibly hypothetical but I figured if there was someone to talk to about it, it'd be you. Would you say real estate has been a fulfilling part of your life? I get you have the whole business and law side to things but I'm ... curious. @rafaelcb

#✧ * º • — words dripping like honey ⎧interactions.⎫#✧ * º • — filling up the empty space ⎧rafael.⎫#hope it's okay i started something for them?#<333

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hcerin · 2 years ago

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♡ ◞ location ... 'thirsty' launch party ♡ ◞ timestamp ... 8:10 p.m. ♡ ◞ featuring ... bambi lennox ( @lilacrespite )

this was supposed to be a momentous day for her — rina had just released a new single! she had been working on the song for months; and after sleepless nights and days that seemed to never end, her record label had finally decided on a release date. she should be celebrating. instead, she found herself in a secluded corner, hidden away from PRYING EYES. she couldn't believe that she had managed to slip away from everyone somehow. in attendance was every friend and anyone who has ever supported her. they were here to congratulate rina, they had given her presents to compliment her latest achievement. however, when her eyes scanned the crowd, all she could see was the one person that couldn't be there. rina honestly didn't mean to run away; but as soon as she felt the lump in her throat, she was determined to not let anyone see her cry. she thought she had kept her weeping as quiet as possible, so when she heard footsteps getting louder, she cursed under her breath. quickly wiping her tears, she looked up to give the approacher a sorrowful smile. ❝ you've found me. ❞

#‹ interactions › — ❝ words dripping like honey. ❞#‹ featuring › — ❝ bambi lennox. ❞#I HOPE THIS IS OKAY #u dont have to match the length!! i was just setting the scene

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bernardsbendystraws · 8 months ago

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Red Eyes (Dealer!Chris x Reader)

➢ “--didn’t mean to—’m sorry, okay? I…hmmm…have you always smelt this good?”

⚠︎ MDNI, SMUT, p n v, public sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, angst, crying, and more → 3277 words

A/N: Interaction is appreciated! I do not give consent for my work to be plagiarized or uploaded on any other platform.

With love and big tits, ᡣ𐭩 Rose → Navigation [ Previous Part ]

♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢

2: Don't You Wanna Make Me Proud?

I could feel his cum dripping out of me. The mirror in front of me captured his face perfectly, the slight layer of sweat on his forehead matching the way his lips parted and huffed for air.

Our routine of lounging in his room had been interrupted. One minute his hands were all over me, the next they were answering a call—her call. I knew exactly who it was. Riley had a habit of calling him up too much. Sometimes she didn’t even need any more weed, it was simply to ‘help’ him out and invite him to her parties.

He didn’t need her help. Chris was fine, he got business constantly. I don’t know why, but for some reason, he always made sure to go to her parties. He had dragged me to a couple before, but this was different.

Right before his phone had rang, his hands were all over me. He had insisted on giving me a more innocent stress relief, but I couldn’t help but squirm and beg for more as his hands massaged all on me. Chris took his sweet time lingering his groping hands on my thighs, ‘accidentally’ grazing my pussy.

His hands were softer than usual. It drove me insane. The slight circles he rubbed on my clit through my clothes was clouding every thought that didn’t revolve around him. Layer by layer, I had finally been naked and his hands were working magic, toying with my clit playfully as he laughed at me squirming.

And then the stupid phone rang.

Not only did he pick it up, but he started getting ready while talking to her. I was pissed to say the least. I was even more pissed watching him entertain her all night, giving her smiles that belonged to me. Jealousy was an understatement. My skin raged with offense watching him pick her over me.

I couldn’t help but drag him away from her and towards the bathroom. Although, it didn’t seem like he minded. He had me slightly bent over the counter sink, gripping my shoulder to pull me back into each thrust, directing me to keep my eyes on the mirror to watch everything.

It all felt so good. I almost forgot how fucked everything was, how stupid it was to be so desperate for him when he shrugged me off for a dumb party. But shame didn’t overpower how much I needed him to touch me. Shame didn’t come close to how good he felt fucking into me from behind.

“I’m gonna go back out, clean up and we’ll leave in a few.”

Shame. That’s all that overtakes me, churning my gut with nausea as he yanks my dress down, kissing the side of my head and sneaking out the bathroom door.

He came with me to the bathroom. He fucked me. But, he was going back to talk to her. Looking back into the mirror, I wince at my smudged makeup. The black mascara starts dropping streaks down my cheeks as I sniffle.

This wasn’t worth it anymore.

Grabbing my phone, I call up the only other person I knew I could call.

“Hello–”

“Could you come pick me up?”

“It’s him again, isn’t it?” My silence explains wordlessly while sharp sniffs echo in the bathroom. “Oh honey…I’m on my way.”

____

I couldn’t stop shaking. Mostly because I couldn’t stop thinking. Once it all came crashing down, it really all sank in. He didn’t love me. Not in the way I wanted him to. All I was doing was hurting myself, letting myself think something would change.

“Hey, it’s okay…I got you, let it all out,” her voice soothes. Vee had been there for me. Not that we were necessarily super close, but our late night study sessions had revolved in a lot of trauma dumping. I didn’t remember the last time I hugged someone who wasn’t Chris. I couldn’t even remember it ever feeling like this—so utterly bare.

“I’m so dumb–”

“You’re not dumb. You’re human, it’s okay, you just….you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please? For me? Promise you’ll stop torturing yourself like this. I can’t watch.” Sighing at her words, I attempt to sit up, only to have her pull me into a tighter hug. A cry leaves my lips. I’m not even sure how anymore, everything feels so drained, but the second she pulls me closer…I can feel my heart shatter with the mantra; this has to end.

“I love him so much, you…you—you don’t understand. He’s always there for me, he’s been there for me—”

“Where is he now?” she asks.

My lips fall into a silent pout. He’s with her. Did he even notice I was gone? Did he even care? Maybe he was fucking her in that same bathroom. Maybe he would give her more than one quick glance after cumming inside of her.

It made me sick.

I could see it. His hands grabbing her waist, his smile looming over her shoulder as she looked in the mirror. Maybe he’d even look into her eyes and lean in closer.

Fuck. I couldn’t think about it.

“Are you—”

Vee is running behind me as I rush into the bathroom. Not a sip of alcohol had entered my mouth, not even one hit of anything to give my brain some sort of euphoria except for sex. But, it didn’t feel like it. Contents rushed out of my mouth and into her toilet as I felt her pull my hair back, rubbing my shoulder.

Physically, mentally, and emotionally sick.

As I sit back trying to catch my breath, I heave for air while tears rush down my cheeks. It all feels so heavy. My heart feels like it’s weighing down my entire body.

I can’t take it.

____

Three days. I had made excuse after excuse in my mind, but none of them added up. Not a single text or call from him. Chris didn’t even seem to notice my absence. Maybe he had someone—her to fill the void of what I usually gave him though.

I kept picturing them together. Him fucking her from behind like he did with me, but even worse…him fucking her face-to-face.

How many times did she make him cum?

Was she better than me?

Vee had made me promise not to reply to him. I agreed, but I didn’t expect this. Silence was not something I assumed would’ve happened. And technically…I wasn’t replying, I was reaching out.

I didn’t care what happened—I didn’t even know what I wanted to happen. All I knew was I needed to see him, I needed to hear him, and I needed to know. I was tired of rotting in my bed, wondering what position they were, how deep he was in her. He was mine.

The drive wasn’t long. Arriving at his front door, I was almost debating turning around. What was I doing here? What was I hoping would happen? But, the door opened before I could give it a second thought.

“Oh…hey? What are you doing here?”

A familiar face, one similar to his. Matt pulled me into the house, his eyes dancing over my appearance with concern. We weren’t nearly as close as Chris and I were, but him and I just got each other. He could tell when I was just done, and I saw the signs he gave too.

Sometimes the music would just be too loud in the car altogether and he would look at me from the rearview mirror, turning it down while offering a sympathetic smile. Other times, I’d see him getting frustrated with how much energy Chris had and I’d let Chris play with my hair or redirect him to something else to level his energy out. We just got each other.

“I…you…” He looks up to my face, his eyes scrunching with concern. “What’s going on?” he asks.

What’s going on?

My brain raced to find an easy answer. Settling on a dismantled junction of thoughts and shards of truths lingering together, weighing my shoulders down as I let out a sullen huff.

‘I fell in love with your brother and now I’m so consumed with thoughts of him loving this other girl that I get physically ill.’

But I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything as Matt tugged my arm lightly, having me follow him up to the living room as we sat on the couch. Nick looks up from his phone, offering me a head nod with tired eyes.

“Hey,” Nick states.

Matt picks his phone up, dropping it on the table before running off to his room with a giddy laugh. My eyes float over to Nick, watching him shrug with a judgemental expression.

“Bitch, I don’t know either, don’t look at me.”

____

Sweet fucking relief. Matt had decided to bring out his lego sets. We all worked on them together, joking around as I felt the weight of reality lighten. It had all felt so out of control, this felt like some sort of grounding—something telling me I wasn’t completely hopeless of feeling joy.

“What’s up though? You usually don’t come over unannounced, not that I’m complaining though. I can’t stand living with two straight men alone sometimes.” Nick remarks. I snicker at his statement, shoving in the last piece to complete the lego sculpture as Matt flips him off.

“Don’t know,” I shrug, brushing it off as reality creeps in. I can almost hear the thump of my heart echo, but I realize it’s footsteps—his footsteps.

“What’re you guys—oh, hey.”

My jaw clenches from his dry words. He ghosted me, didn’t even care to check if I was okay, and all I got was that. I loved this man. I loved how sweet he was, how his arms felt like the softest blanket imaginable, how his laugh made everything seem okay….I loved him and he didn’t even like me enough to see if I was okay.

Everyone seemed to fall silent. I could hear my breaths getting heavier as I glared at him, but I couldn’t help it. He hurt me by making me feel so stupid—by making me want to ruin everything holding me together for just a moment of feeling like it was us against the world.

“I….I’m just gonna go to bed…night, guys.” Matt starts getting up to walk towards his room, Nick following after him as he starts to wander towards his own bedroom.

“Yeah, me too. Night.”

As they disappear behind closed doors and hallways, Chris sighs, walking over and sitting next to me on the couch. My teeth clamp into my cheek as I feel myself growing hot with anger.

He couldn’t even check up on me.

Was he too busy spending the whole night with her?

Maybe he held her all night when he didn’t even bother to pull down my dress all the way.

“Hey, are you okay?”

My head whips to stare at him with a slacked jar. Is he serious? Am I okay?

“You’re fucking kidding me. Chris, you’re—” I squint my eyes shut, rubbing the bridge of my nose as I take a shaky breath.

He didn’t even care to think how hurt this would all make me.

“I…let’s go talk in my room, okay?”

____

Everything was just building up more and more. We both sat on his bed in a dead silence, a silence he needed to break.

“So…”

I sigh hearing his clueless words. Did he really not think this much? Did she consume every thought of his?

“So what, Chris? You didn’t even bother to check up on me–”

“I saw you leave with Vee that night, what are you talkin’ about, kid?”

Oh.

“Don’t call me that,” I mutter.

Was I really that stupid?

It felt like every word that left my mouth was just confirming how fucking dumb I felt.

His body scoots closer to mine as he slugs his arm around me, nuzzling my head to his chest. “Hey…don’t be mad at me, okay? Talk it through c’mon. The last thing I wanna do is stress you out more.”

My body stiffens. I lean against the headboard, shying out of his arms. With my arms crossed in front of my body, I can feel his stare intensify on me, trying to read me like a book. My tongue clicks on the side of my cheek. Tears flood and warm my face as I stare up to the ceiling, letting out a sigh of frustration as I blink furiously.

It wasn’t his fault, it was mine. There was nobody to blame except for me and I was taking it out on him.

“I’m sorry, I guess I just….I don’t know, Chris. You—you left me the other day in the bathroom like that. That…that was kinda fucked up, ya know?”

I cringe hearing the way I undermine every emotion with casual words. He hurt me. Even if he didn’t mean to—he hurt me.

“Ma….” he whispers, trying to pry my arms apart. I keep them clenched against my chest, watching him sigh in defeat as he lays his chin on my forearm to stare up at me. “--didn’t mean to—’m sorry, okay? I…hmmm…have you always smelt this good?” he asks, whispering to himself as his lips brush against my stomach peeking out from the bottom of my shirt.

Fuck. I forgot how good it felt.

His eyes gleam up at me. The scene of him so far buried in giving me affection leaves me forgetting everything, but as soon as his teeth nibble slightly onto my hipbone, I’m met with a brutal reminder of the bruise still lingering from the bathroom counter he had me bent over.

The anger fuels my hunger more, leaving me shifting to sit up despite his hands pushing me down into the bed.

“Oh, please, ma? Just wanna kiss ya…” he trails off, lingering the tip of his finger to trace subtle patterns onto my bare hip, pulling the fabric of my sweats down slightly.

I bring my hand up, caressing the pout of his face before starting to adjust my body weight. Slugging my leg over his hips, I grin hearing him hiss as I sit on top of his hardening dick.

The vibrance of the room is dark besides the glowing TV behind us, paused on some sort of scene that leaves a blue glow gliding along his skin to highlight his features. I place my palms on his stomach, sliding them up and underneath his shirt teasingly, leaning down as I nibble on his neck and ear.

A groan falling from his mouth makes my teeth ache to bite harder. He shifts underneath me, quickly stripping his shirt off. Chris grasps me tightly from the back of my neck, guiding my lips to his as he holds onto my hip, grinding his cock up into me.

He smirks against me as a moan vibrates from my lips. “Yeah? That feel good, ma?” he taunts.

Pushing him down by the shoulder roughly, I start to grind my hips more intently. Chris’s hands quickly grab onto my hips, his nails digging into the fabric of my sweats as he tries to grind up into me.

“Nope,” I say, hovering over him as he lets out a huff of frustration. “I get control or you get nothing.”

His eyes furrow as he fiddles with the hem of my shirt. Frustration covers his features. The fidget of his hands meddles and tickles my skin, my gut clenching as I feel him linger his hand down a line from my belly button, stopping just above my sweats.

“Oh, c’mon….don’t you want me to–”

I start getting off of him, biting back a smirk as he pulls me down and gives me a pleading look. “Wait! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just….just touch me, ma. Please,” he rambles, grabbing my hand and guiding it to the bulge in his sweats.

The desperation of his hard grip leaves me prideful. He needs me—he wants me.

“Yeah? You want me to touch you, baby?

____

Clothes had been discarded and arrayed around the floor. None of the articles of fabric being from my own body. In fact, I was completely clothed. The tops of my tits were nearly spilling out due to him grasping onto the area, but it just made me even more happy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckkkkkkk,” he strains, his abdomen clenching and restricting as I keep my even strokes of my hand up and down his cock, my thumb gliding over his throbbing tip that’s already coated in cum.

With his head thrown back into the pillows, I watch him fall apart. His eyes roll while he squints with a silent moan falling from his parted lips.

As he rides out the high, I keep my hand just the same, fucking him through the high and keeping the same, lazy pace. “Ohmygod, ma, I—”

“C’mon, Chris…don’t you wanna make me proud?” I purr, watching him furiously nod as his hips fuck into my hand.

“--’m—shit, I—” His words are cut off by breathless heaving and strangled moans.

Licking over my lips, I feel satisfied watching the scene before me play out; his desperation written in his body and spoken with words as I please him with just my hand.

“That’s it, come on, be so good for me, that’s right,” I soothe, watching as his body squirms into the mattress from side to side, trying to find relief from the overstimulation while chasing another high at the same time.

“Fuck yeah, I—mygod,” he rasps.

I slow down my pace in the slightest, nearly laughing as he grips onto my wrist, desperately pulling it to go faster. “Say you’re mine, Chris. Say you’re mine and I’ll let you cum,” I announce, stroking his cheek for comfort as he leans into the touch, sucking my thumb into his mouth and letting it pop from his lips with a puddle of drool.

“--’m yours, fuck—’m yours, ma. All—all fuckin’ yours,”

Cooing at him, I speed up my hand. His mouth is silently hanging open, his lips and chin both glazed from sloppy drool.

“Can I—need to cum, oh–please, please, please, ma. I—need to, to make a mess—for you,” he slurs.

Brushing a hand through his hair, I place my lips onto his, smiling as he struggles to reciprocate the motion while my hand strokes up and down on his cock. I feel his hand tangle up into my hair, forming a fist as he yanks me roughly to him, a desperate attempt to keep himself grounded as his mouth opens wide, a sharp moan leading into a whimper as I feel his warm cum fall down my hand.

“---’m cumming, cummming–fuck. I…ohmygod, I fuckin’ love—”

The words are cut off by his body tensing impossibly more, his lips sloppily landing onto mine as my eyes go wide.

What did I just do?

What was he gonna say?

It was all in the heat of the moment, but as his body relaxed I felt my heart thump into my ears, drums pounding against my tightened chest as his words chanted through my head.

Any pride falls short as shame sinks in. His muddled brain didn’t even know what he was saying, it wasn’t his fault.

It wasn’t his fault that I was breaking my own heart.

It wasn’t his fault that I had broken every rule and every promise just to have this moment—the moment that always ended in the same realization.

He isn’t even mine to lose.

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semisasseater · 2 months ago

Text

YOU’RE MINE

forever.

SUMMARY ‘ Sunghoon has been obsessed with you since childhood, and now that you’re his, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you by his side—forever.

𓊆 成勋 𓊇 x fem!reader 㞫⠀⠀ ִ ⠀ 760 obsession stalking manipulation gaslighting psychological & physical abuse murder solation degradation yandere themes — 类型 dark romance psychological thriller horror

✴︎ LIBRARY ✴︎

‧˚⠀⠀ 🤍⠀⠀ ɞ 作者注 : this is what i really like to write.

From the very beginning, Sunghoon had been obsessed with you.

It started when you were children—when you’d grab his hand and giggle, when you’d ask him to help tie your shoes, when you’d lean against him after a long day, never noticing how he held on just a little too tightly.

But by high school, his love had turned into something darker.

You were too beautiful, too kind, too naïve for the world. And Sunghoon knew that meant he had to protect you.

Even if it meant watching your every move.

Even if it meant following you home at night.

Even if it meant making sure no one else got too close.

You never noticed the way he lingered in the background, how his sharp eyes tracked your every interaction, how every boy who dared flirt with you eventually disappeared.

One day, a classmate would be laughing with you in the hallway. The next, he was gone. His seat in class empty. His locker left untouched. No one ever questioned it.

And you? You just pouted, twirling a strand of hair.

“Weird… I thought he liked me.”

Sunghoon would only smile, brushing a soft hand against your cheek.

“He didn’t deserve you baby.”

And like the bimbo you were, you just nodded, leaning into his touch.

Because Sunghoon would always be there.

⸻

The day you confessed, he almost didn’t believe it.

“Hoonie I like you.”

The words rang in his ears, sinking deep into his skin. His fingers twitched. His breath hitched.

For the first time in years, Park Sunghoon was stunned.

“You’ve always been there for me,” you continued, smiling up at him, your eyes sparkling with innocence. “And you’re, like, really cute so… do you wanna date?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just stared.

Then, slowly, a smile crept onto his lips.

“Of course baby.” His voice was soft, but his grip on your hand tightened. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

⸻

Moving in together was effortless.

Sunghoon took care of everything. He cooked, he cleaned, he made sure you didn’t have to lift a finger.

And you, being the sweet, oblivious girl you were, just smiled and kissed his cheek.

“You’re the best hoonie!”

But he wasn’t just taking care of you. He was controlling you.

And you didn’t even notice.

“Baby your friends aren’t good for you.”

You blinked up at him from the couch, your pink nails tapping against your phone screen. “Huh?”

“They talk behind your back” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “They don’t want what’s best for you.”

You frowned. “But… they’re my friends.”

His fingers curled around your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His smile was still there, but his eyes were cold.

“Do you not love me anymore?”

Your eyes widened. “Of course I do!”

“Then why do you pick them over me?” he murmured, voice dripping with honey. “Bad people over the person who keeps you safe?”

You hesitated.

And then you gave in.

“You’re right hoonie. I don’t need them.”

Sunghoon smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Good girl.”

⸻

It didn’t take long before you were completely his.

No phone. No friends. No one but him.

And the best part? You never even questioned it.

He had trained you well.

Until one day, he saw you talking to another classmate at the store.

That night, you learned what happened when you disobeyed.

Your soft, delicate skin was marked with bruises, your lips trembling as you whimpered under his touch.

Sunghoon held you close, whispering against your ear.

“It hurts me more than it hurts you baby…”

“I’m sorry doll.”

“I had to teach you a lesson it’s normal for me to do this.”

And you, being the stupid, naïve little thing you were, believed him.

Because Sunghoon loved you.

Because he kept you safe.

Because you were exactly where you belonged.

Right in his arms.

Forever.

@semisasseater

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ceilidho · 1 year ago

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landscape with honey

summary: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 4. (read the whole thing on ao3 here) tags: light daddy kink, breeding kink, very nsfw, she/her pronouns for reader

He starts showing up at your house at odd hours.

You’re fixing coffee in the morning, still fuzzy and warm from sleep, only to hear the sounds of hammering outside. Wrapping yourself in just a housecoat, you find John fixing the loose step on your stairs, barely sparing enough time to greet you before returning to the task at hand. When he finishes, he brushes off your attempts to pay him for the job, just loading his tools back in the car and driving off.

You sip your coffee and wonder. Odd.

The next day, you find him raking the leaves in your lawn. Two days later, he shows up at the grocers when you’re picking up produce, and helps you carry all your bags to the car. He also adds a peculiar amount of canned goods to your order and when you fret and try to tell him that you don’t need the pickles and sauerkraut and beans and all of that stuff, he just lays a hand flat on your head and drags it down your hair until you go quiet.

He pays for the whole order.

You’ve never had to wonder about a man’s actions. Men are largely inscrutable to you, ever-shifting. They say one thing and mean another. They look at you like one might look at an oil painting, entitled something like Virgin Meeting Her Lover’s Eyes From The Top Of The Staircase or Landscape With Virgin. They speak to you as though an answer were entirely antithetical to their purpose in conversing with you.

John listens to you with a focus that borders on intimidating, like he wants to hear each word enunciated exactly how you might enunciate it. It has the sharp clarity of respect, of a mutual acknowledgement of humanity. He also comes over to fix your sink without you having to ask. The world of men is still largely confusing to you.

John grows surlier as the days grow shorter though. He doesn’t snap or snarl at you the way he does sometimes with his recruits (you rarely see him interact with them, but sometimes you’ll drop him off his lunch on the days when you’re feeling particularly generous and that’s when you’ll have the rare pleasure of hearing him shout at a trembling twenty-three year old for littering on the trail like a military captain), but it’s a near thing.

The worst is when he catches you on a jog one morning on his drive to work. You see his truck with the faded red paint pass you by and you give a short wave that he returns. He passes you by about half a yard before coming to a full stop and reversing. You stare at him as the window rolls down, brows furrowed.

“Hi Jo—” you start.

“Get in the car,” John growls. You hear the doors unlock.

“…My uh…my shift’s in two hours, John, I can’t just—”

“Get in the car.”

“This is my only time to exercise!”

“If I have to get out of this car and drag you inside, honey, I will. Don’t play with me. Get in.”

You get in the car. Probably wisely. Still dripping sweat and shivering from the cold—you’re not used to jogging in the winter, or at all for that matter, but it seemed like as good a time as any to start—you glance over to stare at the side of John’s face. His jaw is set, almost as if in anger. His knuckles are white over the steering wheel as he makes a U-turn and drives back into town. The cab of his truck smells like flannel pulled out from the back of a closet, almost musty, but comforting in the way that old clothes can sometimes smell. There’s a cigarette ashed out in the dish in front of the centre console.

He takes you to the nearest bakery for coffee and a breakfast muffin and stares you down until you eat the whole thing. You feel like you have to scarf it down. Customers bustle into the bakery to order coffee to-go and fresh cookies and scones in waxy paper bags; everyone in town knows each other so you try to avoid the more curious stares when they’re turned on you.

“This is weird,” you say, staring down at the crumbs on your plate. “This is really weird.”

“This is what you get for exercising before winter,” John says, flagging down the barista for another muffin and a refill on your coffee. “Waste of calories.” The last part is said derisively, almost with a scoff.

You frown. “Lots of people exercise. Even when it snows.”

“Winter is a time for hibernating. Not…sweat,” he says with a grimace, like the very thought is anathema to him.

"Hibernating?" you repeat skeptically, scrunching up your nose. "I mean, I spend a lot of time indoors, but I wouldn't say I'm hibernating."

John stares at you until you look away, flushed. "Finish your breakfast."

The barista returns with another blueberry muffin and a fresh cup of coffee. At least John's the one paying. When he finally seems satisfied, he hustles you home and leaves you off at the door with a stern warning.

“You gonna be good for me this time?” he asks, a finger curled under your chin, tilting your head up. One of his hands curls around the doorframe and your heart jumps when you hear the wood creak under his grip. This close, you can see the faintest silver streaks at his temples and the flecks of it in his beard.

“It was just a light jog,” you mumble, looking away.

“Not a light anything,” he warns, ducking closer until you feel like shrinking back, like disappearing into your house. “Bake a cake if you have to burn off energy so bad. I’ll be over around seven, alright?”

You mumble something, the words getting lost in themselves. It’s impossible to think with John in your space like this. It’s only when he finally pulls away and ambles back to his truck that you rock back on your heels, let go of whatever spell he had you under.

The first week of December hits town like a truck.

You’re trudging home alone after your shift when you make the decision to cut through the forest because you missed the last bus and you don’t want to spend an hour walking home. The first snow of the season has caught you off guard, clad in boots too autumnal and a sweater too thin for the biting cold. The flakes fall in thick chunks that stick for a brief moment before melting into the skin.

It’s not the first time you’ve travelled through the forest alone. The town is surrounded by pockets of the forest, like it can’t help enveloping whatever space is left for it. Oftentimes it’s easier just to cut through the woods rather than travel the long way around. You wouldn’t even call this the forest proper, not like the acres of trees sprouting over the mountains just off in the distance.

A bush rustles. Your eyes flick over for a second, breath hovering in your chest before you decide that it’s just a squirrel. Nothing ever happens in a town like this. The man from the other day notwithstanding, nothing truly bad ever happens. You keep walking down the partially demarcated path, lit only by the full moon overhead. It’s so dark that the snow around you is almost blue.

The bush rustles again. You stop this time, feet staying planted in the snow long enough for your feet to grow cold. You stare at the dark shoots covered in a layer of snow; it stripes the branches like candy from a time ago, licorice twisted with white bark, and it doesn’t move when you look at it. The bushes and trees are dense, impossible to peer through. Even walking through the forest doesn’t make you feel immersed in it. You follow a barely marked path, hard to see through the recent snowfall, and stare out into the dark woods with a kind of animal sense. Not sure whether you’re alone, whether something’s there with you, and whether it’s sensed you or if you’ve sensed it first.

You start walking again when your feet go numb. Better to just get home.

It comes behind you again as a slightly louder rustle. It’s harder to shake off the fear this time, harder to say that it’s just the wind. The snow crunches under more than one set of feet, branches cracking under the weight of something larger than you.

You don’t want to turn around, but the sound of something chuffing makes your stomach drop. The first thing that emerges when you turn to face it is its massive head, a white frosted muzzle, and the visible hump on its back. The wispy smoke of its breath puffs out when it breathes. Its eyes are dark, hardly reflecting any light at all. Then the rest of it emerges, the saplings bending out of its way as it clambers out of the woods and onto the path, staring you down all the while.

You’ve never seen a bear before. Not this close. Not so close that you know it’s been stalking you, know that it didn’t come upon you by accident. You’re staring down at your own body from somewhere else, fear displacing you. Rending you from your own body. There’s no way to guess its weight at a glance, but it’s easily twice the size of you, easily more than that.

When it takes a step forward, everything goes dark.

You wake up snuggled under the warmth of a thick blanket. Sleep is creamy thick, engulfing you on all sides, only the faintest prickle of awareness letting you know that you’re awake.

It’s unpleasant to leave the cotton miasma of sleep, you think. Your nose scrunches up and you let out a tired huff, trying to will yourself back into it. The harder you try to force yourself back into it though, the farther away it floats.

Still it weighs you down. It takes an age to work up the energy to so much as twitch a finger. Even your eyelids insist on staying shut. Yet, the prickle of consciousness needles at you as if to say hello, wake up, you need to get up. You sigh and try to shimmy up onto your elbows.

A hand shoves you back down. The breath rushes out of you.

“Get…back down,” a rough voice grunts from over you and then the full weight of a man settles on top of you, pressing you deep into the mattress.

Consciousness snaps back into you, elastic sharp. The weight of him pins you to the bed, makes you sink into the plushness of—and this is gradually coalescing in your mind—an unfamiliar place. All four corners of your body are trapped under him. The voice is familiar though. Ragged, brutal. A saw taken to the trunk of an old, thick tree, too many interior rings to count. You whisper John’s name and he grunts, making you flinch from how the sound reverberates through the side of your head.

Exhaustion is thick though and it leaves you heavy, even when John slowly lifts himself to his elbows from behind you. You feel him drag his body down the length of the bed, beard scratching into your skin with every petal soft kiss dropped along your spine during his descent.

“John?” you whisper, only just able to turn your head, not even able to struggle up to your elbows. “J-John?”

He doesn’t answer you. The room is near pitch black, only a window on the other end of the room with the curtain pulled back the smallest amount enough to let the moonlight in. Even the moonlight isn’t enough. You know from the shape of the window that this isn’t your house, that it must be somewhere else. You can only surmise from John’s presence that it’s his, but that thought passes over you like a rock skipping over water.

“Wher’m’I?” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut when his lips press over the small of your back. Sensitive there.

Rough hands with callused fingertips smooth over your ass, pressing into the flesh. His fingers pry your cheeks apart, thumbs dipping into the space between and pressing over your hole, making you burn all over. You’re too far gone to worry about any hair on your legs or anything about your body other than John’s hands undulating over your ass and thighs. You flinch violently when his teeth sink into the meat on the underside of your ass, so tender that even exhausted to the bone your body lashes out.

Big hands pry your legs apart. You flinch at the sudden hot breath over your sex, a whine tickling your throat. His face hovers so close to your centre that the tip of his nose presses on the tender skin near your entrance.

“Wha’ d’you…think you’re doin’...” you ask breathlessly. Your brain tries to order your leg to kick, but it stays flat and limp on the bed.

The first touch of John’s tongue along your slit makes you melt, the flat of his tongue lapping upward and making your hips tilt up with it. It almost makes your mind go blank again, almost tips you back into the unconscious world because the synapses in your brain stop firing the second you remember that it’s John between your legs licking hungrily at your cunt. John from the grocery store, John from the ranger’s station in the mountains—the John you’ve been crushing on and coveting for months now, content to just be friends with the gruff, handsome man in the house next to yours. Now sucking one of your nether lips into his mouth and tracing his tongue up the inside, gliding it over the supple flesh.

“Yer in the den,” John mumbles into your pussy and it’s like he sears the words into your brain. “‘N I’m takin’ care of you, honey.”

“The…the den…?” It’s so hard to keep your thoughts in order. Each flick of his tongue makes you gasp, pussy growing wetter and hips grinding languidly down on his face.

He hums instead of answering.

“Why’m’I so tired?” you slur.

His tongue saws over your clit from behind. It tears a broken whimper from you. You feel every textured ridge, the way it flicks around in a circle and then up and down again.

“Winter season,” John says, sucking your clit into his mouth until you whine at the top of your lungs. “Bear’s sleep in winter.”

“Tha’s silly. M’not a bear,” you moan.

“No,” he agrees, humming into your sex. “Jus’ mated to one. Makes you sleepy too, honey.”

“Mated?” you repeat back, but it’s lost in the way you moan when he eats your pussy from the back, licking into you with renewed vigour. Hungry like a bear. Grunting like a satisfied man, slurping loud enough to make your face heat up.

Words and old memories about bears hardly matter when the handsome man from next door spreads your legs wide, almost to the point of pain, and sinks his tongue into your hole again. You never would’ve expected John to be vocal, but he’s noisy behind you, groaning into your cunt. He keeps mumbling things under his breath that you can’t catch.

“John—” you gasp, biting your lip when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. “John—John—”

He only has to give you a single finger to tip you over the edge, feeds it in nice and slow. Your cunt clenches down at the intrusion, teeth nearly breaking through the skin of your lip.

When he crawls back over you, anticipation makes you shudder. You hear something faint in the background that grows steadily louder as John rests his elbows on either side of your head, until you realize that it’s your own voice murmuring, “Put it in, put it in, put it in—”

He obliges. A thick, steady plunge that hardly manages more than a handful of inches before you’re crying, and it’s too much, too much, too much. Pleasure not a limpid pool anymore but something cavernous and deep-dwelling, pulling you in or trying to make a home inside of you for it. John’s biceps tense with the strain of holding himself back.

You balance on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. There’s a single thought in your head that it might burn you up from the inside; it runs a jagged hole through you.

His nose drags through your hair. “Never expected you. Thought I’d go another season alone ‘till I started smellin’ you around town.”

You hiccup. “Y’never—never paid me any attention ‘for— before, ah—”

“‘Course I paid attention to’ya, honey,” John says into your ear, grunting when he drives deeper into your pussy, still just a languid grind of his hips, so mind-numbingly slow that your thoughts sizzle out of your head. He keeps dragging his hips back and plunging in, barely pulling away from you, all skin on slick skin. “Made a home for m’self in your house. Made sure we had ‘nough to eat for the winter.”

“The winter?”

“Won’t be goin’ anywhere for a few months.” He brushes your hair out of the way to kiss down your neck, giving in to the urge to bite just a little. His body stays pressed tight to yours, hardly an inch of space between the two of you. “Wasn’ sure at first if it’d be here or in your house so… fuck, I had to get ready. Make sure you’d be safe when it hit.”

“Don’ even…know wha’ that means,” you mumble into the mattress, then squeal and fist the fists when John shoves a hand under you to grope your chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shushes you. “All y’have to do now is lie there ‘n take my cock, okay, honey? Can’ya do that for me? I’ll get some food in you after we’re done, then send ya back to bed.”

Only a whine comes out when you open your mouth. John’s arm by your head forces you to breathe in the scent of him, musky and rich. You stare at the hair on his knuckles and his thick fingers gripping the sheets as well, old nicks and scars decorating his hand. You can’t stop staring at his fingers and thinking that he had one of those in you before, that he’s felt you from the inside.

He never pulls away, never changes positions, just fucks you on your tummy in his bed. You’ve never been in John’s bedroom before, but this has to be his room—even the pillowcase smells like him, pine needles and cigar smoke. He keeps up a steady pounding into your cunt, rutting like a wild animal. Has to be close. Gets so close to you that you feel smothered, trapped in place. Like if you struggled, he wouldn’t let up. You want to test it, see if you could, but the heaviness is still in your limbs, keeping you docile. Convenient. A little convenient thing for him to use, like a doll to get himself off with.

“Never coulda imagined such a pretty girl f’r me,” John groans, getting a grip in your hair to twist your head, tugging you into a kiss. Your whole body sparks to life, so shocked that you can’t even kiss him back at first. You wait until he pulls back, staring into his half-lidded eyes through the mess of your hair all tangled up around you. “Gave up on thinkin’ there was anyone out there. Thank fuck I found you first, honey. Can start workin’ on all the good stuff now. Get you to give daddy a baby.”

“D-daddy?” you gasp back, almost scandalized.

He pants into your shoulder, worked up now. “Yeah, honey. Don’ I take care of you? Buy y’r food, fix y’r house? Give you someplace nice ‘n warm to sleep?”

You feel soaked with sweat, twitchy, on the verge of something dangerous. Vision all fogged up, heart beating so fast that your skin buzzes. Stretched out on a fat cock and pinned in a man’s bed, nowhere to run or hide.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter when John gets a bit rougher, his breathing getting more staggered, laboured.

“That’s right, girl,” he grunts, “I’m y’r fuckin’ daddy then, aren’t I?”

Magma bubbles up from deep inside of you. Rockslides off in the distance beat against the ground. When you cry out, it gets lost in the rubble.

You stumble into the living room maybe hours later after using the washroom across the hall. Maybe a day later. It’s hard to say how many times the sun has risen and fallen behind the mountains. The clock face stares back at you uncomprehendingly.

Come drips out of you onto the floor. Thick droplets run down your inner thighs. John is still sleeping in the bed where you left him, snoring like a chainsaw. It must’ve been what woke you up. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been since he first brought you home, since he left a mess in your pussy, which is still puffy and sore from rough use. You walk with halting little steps to try to minimize the ache.

You stare bleary-eyed around the room. It feels somehow different than the previous times John’s had you over; there are more throws and blankets draped over the couch, candles scattered around the living room with a lighter on the mantle.

There’s a fire roaring in the fireplace, blanketing the house in a layer of warmth. It makes you sluggish, stumbling forward only a handful of steps before the shaggy rug in front of the fire drags you back down to the floor.

“What’re you doing out of bed, pretty girl?” someone rumbles from behind you.

“Had t’pee,” you say, blinking. You try to rub the sleep out of your eyes unsuccessfully. “Why’m’I still so tired? It’s been…I slept so long…”

“C’mon, honey,” John says, coming up behind you and curling his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Told you it was gonna be a long winter. Maybe just one more and then somethin’ to eat, okay?”

It’s easy to sink to the floor, so easy. Especially with the fluffy rug under your feet. Especially with the fireplace toasting you from the outside in, the tinder crackling in the hearth. Everything in the house is dark and warm, only the fire giving you any light at all. Outside the window, the moon is still heavy in the sky.

Something about the humidity of the den makes you suddenly so tired, boneless, pliable when he goes to move you, when John curves himself around you in the furs and reaches down to slide a hand between your thighs.

He grunts when he finds you wet and wanting, sinking a couple fingers in and palming your clit. He doesn’t talk much still, but he says good girl when he cants your hips and slowly stretches you out on his cock. Feeds it into you achingly slow, like molasses. Like nothing’s due for another few months, so why rush it? He’ll take his time so you’re nice and happy and sweet come spring for cubs.

You’re not sure what that means. The pace is slow and deep, like before but less intentional. Like he just wants to savour the warmth of your body.

When he finally comes deep inside you, your body goes limp, collapsing in a heap onto the rug. You expect John to pull out and turn over, maybe pull you onto his chest so you have somewhere to rest. Instead, he sighs all tired and content, and stays in you, still plugged up in your cunt, his spend only just starting to leak out into a pool beneath you.

“Are we gonna eat?” you mumble, already half-asleep.

Somewhere behind you, he laughs; it’s soft like a snowfall in winter. “Yeah, honey. After a nap, we can eat.”

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