#` ✞ witness. ⁞ touch my mouth and cut out my tongue‚ i will never be your chosen one.

[sunlessea]

FINALLY. AT LONG LAST. GODS TAG DROP. FREE ME.

[thevillainswhore]

New Tricks: A Pure Love

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 11.5k

Summary: From first kisses to first dates, the two of you have come a long way from pining over the other in secret and innocent touches during an unplanned movie night. But now, what once was a forbidden fantasy for an unattainable crush becomes reality when you coach Bucky Barnes through losing his virginity.

Warnings: College AU, brother’s best friend!Bucky, fluff, swearing, teasing, smut, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex, nipple play, handjob, praise kink, size kink, big hints of subby Bucky, dorky Bucky, love confessions.

Author’s Note: Beta and dividers by @rookthorne, she’s been my rock through this whole AU. Words will never be enough to thank you my love ❤️ Here is part three and the final instalment to New Tricks’ main storyline 🥹

New Tricks Masterlist 🌼🐾

New Tricks Playlist 🎵

Your evening together has been magical, something pulled straight out of your dreams. The visuals of the bright, glowing stars and planets are nothing in comparison to the smile that pulls at Bucky’s mouth, even after the two of you left the museum.

During the walk back to your dorm with Bucky, he talks constantly and animatedly about the planetarium — recounting his joy for all the astronomical wonders he got to witness up close. And listening to your boyfriend’s contagious glee for a date you put together has you grinning from ear to ear.

In the late hour, you make a stop on your way back to the local twenty-four hour dessert parlour that is close to your dorm, opting for two single scoop ice cream cones. Bucky chose chocolate; you chose strawberry, and you stroll hand in hand down the Brooklyn cobblestones.

 

“I still can’t believe you don’t like chocolate ice cream, Bee,” Bucky accuses with his mouth full, shaking his head with a high sense of mock disapproval.

You roll your eyes playfully and scoff. He hasn’t stopped complaining about your dislike for chocolate flavoured treats since you revealed that snippet of information while you perused the options available to you at the parlour. “How many times are we going to go over this, Buck? Strawberry is superior,” you tell him with a proud smile. 

“Absolutely not!” Bucky gasps, outraged. “I refuse to listen to this slander against chocolate.” 

“Drama���” Your retort is cut short by him pressing you against the wall of the building next to you. The cone of ice cream in your hand almost topples precariously, interrupting you mid lick, and he ignores your surprised shout of, “Hey!”

“We are settling this right now, Buttercup.” He looks deep into your eyes with dire seriousness. “You’re gonna try mine and tell me that you like it.” The cone of chocolate ice cream appears in your peripheral vision. 

“Bucky!” You laugh. “I haven’t tried chocolate ice cream in years!” 

“All the more reason to try it now.” He holds his cone up to your mouth, a twinkle in his bright blue eyes and a pout on his plump lips. “For me?”

“Y’know, you can’t keep bribing me with those puppy eyes — No matter how handsome you are.”

With a cheeky smile, he whispers, “Is it working, though?” 

Sighing in defeat, you can’t help the upturn of your lips at his charm. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Hit me with it.” 

Like the cat who got the cream, Bucky closes the gap between you and the cold treat, letting it slightly touch your lips — the cold sensation makes you shiver, and you tentatively stick your tongue out, slowly laving it up the side of the scoop of ice cream. 

The strong taste of cocoa and sugar doesn’t impress you, and you flick your gaze towards your boyfriend to say as such, only, he’s homed in on the motion of your tongue while you lick the last remnants of cream from your lips. 

He shudders, the strong line of his shoulders shaking with the force of them, and he pants quietly. The rise and fall of his chest is uneven while his blue eyes darken to a stormy grey. 

It's difficult to contain the satisfied smirk growing on your lips as you ask teasingly, “You good, baby?” 

Bucky gulps, unsuspecting of such an innocent act to affect him so much. “I’m uh— I’m good.” His head bobs up and down, no real confidence in his answer, but his stare still pins you in place and he bites his bottom lip. “How’d you like it?”

 

“Hmm,” you hum, then you lick your lips again — just to make sure they are entirely clean, of course. Bucky’s eyes follow the movement with rapt attention. “I have to say…” The urge to use pretence to answer his question makes you want to burst into laughter, but you soldier on with the truth. “I’m sorry, honey. I still stand by my initial statement.” 

The erratic movements of his chest abruptly cease, and his eyes never leave yours while you lean forward, closer to his lips. “But,” you whisper, the tips of your fingers dancing up his chest. Every touch builds the deepening tension swirling in his eyes. “It doesn’t hurt to try something new every so often, Puppy.” 

You reach up to the corner of his mouth and swipe the smudge of chocolate ice cream left there with your thumb, then suck it into your mouth, releasing it with a wet pop — it feels like you well and truly break his resistance. 

Bucky’s fingers twitch against the cone by your lips, and it crumbles. The forceful puffs of air from his parted lips blow against your mouth, the inevitability of him pouncing on you any second undeniable. 

Rather than making it easier on him, you smirk and push him back by his shoulder. “Never hurts to experiment — Try new things. You never know.”

The dazed expression on his features is innocently sweet, and you try not to laugh as he reaches out for you to drag you back, but you dodge his hands and walk away, out of reach. You look at him over your shoulder and lick up the dribbling cream that almost reaches your hand. 

Bucky stares after you, mouth agape. “I— What—” He shakes himself back to reality, and he licks his lips, brushing his long hair back with his fingers and he throws his crumbled ice cream cone into the nearest trash can — no longer interested in that sweet treat. 

Bucky’s long strides work to catch up with you, a new kind of spark in his eyes you haven’t seen before. “Something new, huh?” 

“Yeah, handsome,” you purr. The steps to your apartment come up, and you take the first few with your back to Bucky, a smirk playing on your lips. Just as you reach the entryway door, you look over your shoulder at your boyfriend, who returns your coy smile with a hesitant one of his own. “Sometimes you’ve got to just let go and give in.”

Bucky stands behind you while you unlock the door to your dorm. The material of his button up shirt scrapes against the bare skin of your arm, and you try to suppress the shiver that runs down your spine, but it's useless. The air is charged with a thick tension unfamiliar between the two of you, and you feel as though you're swimming in new territory, wading into the depths of the unknown. 

“I had a great time tonight, Bee,” Bucky says quietly over your shoulder; the urge to kiss the skin there too tempting for him not to fall into. 

A shiver ripples down your spine from the sensation of his lips tickling your skin, and you stop just as you’re about to open the door. They move carefully over the slope of your neck and up to the lobe of your ear. 

Reining in your arousal, you turn around and agree with a broad smile. “Me too, handsome.” 

His eyes flicker between you and the door to your dorm. You hold his hand while the other rests on the handle behind you. “Ready to go in?” you ask. 

Bucky clears his throat. “Mhm,” he mumbles, and with his confirmation, you open the door. Immediately, the glow of orange lights grab his attention as they dance on the ceiling. Lit candles are placed on surfaces around the room, while your vinyl record turntable plays soft music.

The ambiance seems to both intrigue and calm Bucky, and you feel your own shoulders loosen. Thank you, Nat, you think inwardly.  

“Come on,” you whisper, urging Bucky further into your dorm room. He walks forward wordlessly, and with him out of the way, you close and lock the door behind you both — it affords you a solitary second to process the secret desire that has been stored away for so long. 

A guilty pleasure about your brother’s best friend that you revelled in at one point in time is becoming a reality. 

There is no means to do that now, to stow it away in secrecy — he stood behind you, right there in reach of you, no longer a fantasy. 

The door locks with a muffled click, and you turn around to see Bucky standing by the foot of your bed, head bowed and fiddling with the hair tie around his wrist. Slowly and steadily, you edge closer to him, careful not to make any sudden movements that will spook him. “Bucky?”

His body tenses slightly, his shoulders almost reaching his ears as you near him.

“Sweetheart?” you repeat, and you tuck back some of the hair that kept him hidden — a curtain he didn’t want to peer through. A dazzling pair of ocean blue eyes meet your own; swimming with anxiety and the desperate craving for direction. 

“Hi, you.” Your voice soothes him, and he instantly melts into you — callused, trembling hands rush to seek contact, finding their home around your waist.

“Hi, Bee,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. 

The soft instrumental of guitar chords pacifies the ambience. “How are we doing?” you ask gently. 

Bucky swallows the lump in his throat, and there’s a shaky, tremulous quality to his voice when he answers with, “Nervous.” 

You place a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, hoping to calm him. “About what, baby?” 

Leaning slightly backward to better look into his eyes, you notice there is a storm of emotions swirling through his irises. In an attempt to soothe the hurricane, you comfortingly rub your hands down his muscled arms. 

“S— Sex.” His neck flushes with patchy red blotches; a staple of whenever he is flustered. 

You hum soothingly and nod your head, acknowledging his worries. “You know, we don’t have to do it if you feel like you’ve changed your mind, sweetheart. I was nervous for my first time, too.” Your fingers wrap around his arm to squeeze gently, grounding him in the wallow of nerves. “It’s okay if you’re not ready.” 

“No.” Bucky shakes his head, gulping. “I— I want this. I really want this.” There is such conviction and assurity in his voice that you cannot help but kiss him softly. He pulls back and his breath shudders. 

“You’re completely sure about this?” you ask once more, making sure to give him the space to reject your advances if he feels the need to. 

“Mm.” Bucky nuzzles into your neck, taking comfort in your embrace as he mumbles into your skin, “With everything I have.” 

You grasp his face into your hands with the most care and love you can possibly manifest to bring him out of his safe retreat, and you connect your lips with his again. 

The motion comes easy to Bucky now, natural. He has no fear and certainly no hesitation to kiss you the way he likes, with tenderness and an urge to claim you as his own — his mouth moves over yours in a synchronised dance, the steps familiar, but it still feels new, thrilling in nature.  

Snaking your hands down from his cheeks, your fingers leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake over his neck. They stop over his collar, and you look into his eyes to gain permission to undress him. “Can I?” 

“Yeah.” He’s relaxed enough in your hold to not allow nerves to hinder him just yet. 

You begin to make your way down his covered chest, and with the utmost care, you unfasten each button effortlessly — tan skin, smooth as silk and dotted with a pattern of sun kissed freckles, is revealed with each undone button, and you have to tamper down your impatience to rip the shirt straight off of his shoulders. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Bucky,” you breathe in disbelief, and your palms slither back up his body, sneaking over the ridges of his abs. “And all mine.”

“Ah–” Bucky gasps and jolts — your nails, longer than usual, brush over a responsive area of his stomach and you grin into his neck. 

You skim the tips of your fingers over the planes of his pecs, and over his shoulders to finally slide off the material veiling the godly sight of his body to you. Of course, you have already seen your boyfriend without a shirt on before, but right now, in the glow of the candlelight and the orange hues dancing over his skin, he looks like he’s been sculpted from the angels themselves.

“Bee…” A dust of pink decorates his high cheekbones, still ever so shy with your compliments. 

You open your mouth to reply, but Bucky thoroughly shocks you as he begins to unbuckle his belt, the muscles in his stomach tensing as his hands work to free the leather from his slacks. 

You watch, breathless, while he pulls down the slacks to reveal a pair of tight black briefs that do nothing to hide the growing bulge. Bucky is fucking huge, that much you make out from the strain of the material, and you’re almost sure he isn’t even fully hard. 

“Oh my god.” The sensation of your quiet divulgence against his ear elicits a sudden moan from his lips. You will never tire of being the cause of that sound. 

The rush his vocalised pleasure evokes has you beginning to reach behind your back to unzip your dress. However, Bucky hesitantly stops your hands in their haste. “C— Can I do it?” he stutters, eyes wide and glossy. “Can I undress you — Please?” 

It would be a crime to not allow him after a plea so sweet. 

With your nod of approval, he takes a deep breath, calming his nerves before he makes his way behind you. You feel his fingers hover over your back, tentative and unsure and it takes him a moment until he sighs in finality. 

He pinches the zipper, tiny in his long fingers, and he slowly descends the barrier downwards. The spaghetti straps slip off one by one — his knuckles gently skim over your shoulders until they trail down your arms, and with a quiet flutter, the entirety of your dress falls to the floor, leaving you in just your lingerie.

You wait patiently, letting Bucky take in every inch of your half naked form. Moments pass by and your combined breaths — one steady, the other erratic — ricochet through the room. 

“Sweetheart?” You feel the strands of his long hair sweep across your skin as he looks up at the sound of your voice. “Would you like to get my bra?” It’s an offer, a choice for him to decide on his own terms without the pressure. 

Stunning you with his growing confidence, he begins to unfasten the material — the straps fall down your arms with ease and you gently let it drop to the floor. 

Bucky gulps harshly, then. The realisation that your breasts are on display for the first time to his eyes hitting him like a truck. 

Stepping around your figure to come to your front, he keeps his eyes on your face, never once looking away as he kneels to the ground. His nimble fingers work to slip your heels off, taking care to help you place your bare feet down onto the carpet without letting you trip, and he kisses your lower thighs. Once he’s finished, the palms of his hands rub up the back of your calves and squeeze while he rises to stand.  

His gaze still doesn’t stray. 

“You can look, Bucky — It’s okay.” 

Only with your go ahead do his eyes dart down, taking the entirety of your body in at once. A harsh inhale of breath catches in his throat, the rise and fall of his chest is rapid while his fingers twitch by his sides. His gaze locks onto your breasts — guilty as charged with his basic instincts.

“Puppy,” you call out to him, parsing through the growing fog of desperate need in his mind, visible by the glint of hunger across his irises. “Come here.” 

His eyes shoot up, searching your expression for any sense of mocking, and he finds none. There is a desperate gleam in his cloudy, misted gaze — frantic for guidance and reassurance still. “Come here, baby,” you whisper, holding your hands out for him to grab hold of. “It’s alright.”

The steps Bucky takes are rigid, robotic — not allowing himself to lose what little control he has left. You vow to change that. He stops at a small distance in front of you, further away than you care for, and you take the bait to bring yourself closer until your nipples skim across the bare planes of his skin. 

The sensation steals your breath away, and Bucky squeezes his eyes closed, clenching his fists at his sides — it takes you back to your movie night together all that time ago, when the voice in his mind told him to hold back, to not give in to the urge to reach out instead. 

And that just wouldn’t do.

“None of that, sweetheart,” you coo, softly. “I’m gonna need you to open your eyes so I can see you.”

Like magic, he flickers his eyes open, and he swallows around the lump in his throat. 

“There he is.” You smile reassuringly at him. “Deep breaths for me, baby. You’re doing so good.” 

Bucky takes a small moment to do as you say, treating your word as gospel. His mouth works furiously over the words that won’t seem to come, until he settles on a breathless, “You’re so beautiful.” 

The way he’s devouring you with his eyes says volumes of his true meaning, and you couldn’t find it in you to mind that he was speechless.

You gently tuck the hair that’s fallen into his eyes behind his ears. “Oh, baby,” you whisper back, holding his face in your hands while a torrent of emotions that vary from awe to trepidation threaten to sweep you away. “You’re something else. I’m so lucky.”

A small huff of laughter falls from his parted lips, and he begins to grin, a cheeky pull at the corner of his lips that spreads warmth from your core to the tips of your toes and fingers. “If only you knew how much the guys on the team make fun of me for saying the exact same thing.” 

The two of you share a small bout of laughter — a wholesome moment to cut the charged air and be yourselves for a second.

You slide your hands down from his face down to his chest, feeling the steady pitter patter of his heart that’s calmed down from the fast thrum — the soft smile you give him forces a heavy exhale of breath from his lungs, and you revel in the one you’re given in return. 

“Good to keep going?” You check in once more. 

Bucky nods his head, certain. “Please.”

“Sit on the bed for me then, Puppy,” you softly direct him. 

Following behind him, sure to stay close for both his benefit and yours, he climbs onto your mattress and sits against the headboard. He holds his hand out to you, routine embedded into him to guide you onto his lap. 

It registers to him then, as your bare skin melts against his, that you have never been in this position with so little layers between you. 

Carefully, you rest your crotch — covered by your thin layer of underwear — against his. A thrill of tension stiffens Bucky’s muscles, and you smile gently at him while you shuffle your knees comfortably on either side of his thighs — fully aware that the sensation is much more intense than usual. 

“Bee…” His warm, callused hands hover over waist as you readjust yourself, and while you set yourself down on his lap, the lace of your panties swipe over his hardening cock. “Oh— Fuck.” He chokes out.

Immediately, you still. “What’s wrong, baby?” 

“I wanna touch you,” Bucky forces out, breathing heavily. “So bad—” 

“Remember to breathe, Buck,” you remind him gently, not wanting him to overwhelm himself — not this early. “You’re okay, I’m here.” 

His chest shudders with a harsh breath, and he whimpers, “I don’t know what to do.” 

The lack of experience and inadequacies that stem from it run rampant through his saddening expression, from the sheen of tears that start on his lash line, to the deep frown on his pouting lips. They lock him in place and render him frozen under you — the tense line of his thigh muscles taut beneath yours. 

You realise with a shock that while he is so eager to please, a mingling sense of shame screams that he won’t be able to make this good for you. 

“Hmm. Baby, listen,” you soothe, gathering his attention once more. His hands intertwine easily with your own and you kiss his knuckles. “How about we start off with something you do know?” 

Bucky looks at you with all the innocence of someone completely out of their depth. “O— Okay,” he stutters. “Yeah, I can do that.” 

You smile, placing a single, loving kiss to his lips. “I’ve got you, baby.” 

Sitting back upright, you slowly test a gentle roll of your hips over his crotch and instantly, Bucky gasps loudly. You grin salaciously as you witness his eyes flutter closed. But you still take care to stop, to wait a second and look for any signs he doesn’t like it — there are none, much to your satisfaction.

Slowly, you rock back and forth over his bulge, drinking in the slight, hitched moans and whines that fall from his lips. “You’re doing so well — Proud of you.” You bring the tips of his fingers to your lips and kiss them gently. “It’s only you and me, okay?” 

Bucky’s eyes flutter; heavy breaths escaping his mouth. “You and me,” he whispers.  

“That’s right. Just us.”

“You don’t have to worry your pretty little head, Puppy,” you tease gently. Bucky bites his lip. “I need you to just relax — Sit back and let me do the thinking.” 

“Buttercup–” 

“Here.” You guide Bucky’s hands to your sides, smoothing them down the slopes of your hips, and you repeat the motion a few more times to better allow him to feel accustomed to the feel of your naked skin. “There you go.”

His hands, rough and calloused from his football training, stain your body for an eternity — caressing you with a ceaseless love and compassion. 

“Touch me,” you say, unable to simmer the blooming heat within you. 

Transfixed, Bucky’s thumbs brush back and forth. There’s still a sense of hesitation in his movements — the way his fingers twitch and tickle over your skin. But it lasts only a moment; a path of his own choice decorates your sides, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Your skin is so soft,” he sighs in awe. 

He rests his head back against the headboard with a soft sigh, and he tilts his chin down to watch you grind against his bulge. Leisurely, he tenderly brushes his fingers over your stomach, the touch of his hands beginning to drift upwards under the slope of your tits. 

“Please, Bucky,” you plead with him, the tease of having him so close is too much to bear. “Touch me.” 

“‘Kay,” he mumbles drunkenly. 

The pad of his thumb swipes over the peak of your nipple softly, a barely there sensation that makes you keen. “Yes, just like that, Pup.” 

It’s all the reaction he needs. 

With a surge of confidence, Bucky begins to massage your tits, continuing to use his thumbs to rub circles over your sensitive nipples while you grind against his growing cock. “I— Is this okay, Buttercup?” 

You almost scoff — the thought that his experimental touches are anything less than okay absurd to you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you whine, and the reassurance of your pleasure invigorates him to move faster, steadier and more firm with his touch. “Making me feel so good, baby, keep going.” 

Lost in the feel of his touch and the insistent pressure of his clothed cock against your folds, you tilt your head back and close your eyes. The flutter of butterflies in your stomach crescendo into a frenzy the faster you move. All the while, you miss the way Bucky’s gaze is intently focusing on the way your breasts sway with the grind of your hips; how he licks his bottom lip with an urge to claim.

The sharp, intense sensation of his fingers pinching a peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger forces a shout from your parted lips. “Fu–uck, Bucky — Ohmygod.”  Your cunt pulses and aches when his fingers stay hovering, spooked at the sudden reaction. “More, more—”

“Fuck,” Bucky groans, and he bucks up into you, matching your rhythm and this time, it’s you who’s soaking the material of your panties. “Bubs, I— Holy shit — I need more.”  

It’s an achievement you’re most excited for, that he’s freely telling you, unprompted, what he needs. 

Though, the teasing nature you held could not be dissuaded — you meet his gaze with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, Puppy?” Your hands hover over his lower stomach, the tips of your fingers dancing over the twitching muscles, and you move your index finger beneath the fabric. “Wanna get rid of these?” 

The elastic waistband of his underwear snaps back against his lower stomach, making him yelp in surprise. “Ah— Mhm,” he begs deliciously, eyes wide and completely surrendering to you. “Take ‘em off, Bee, please.”

Your bare skin brushes against his while you shuffle backwards, slowly crawling down his legs all while marking his skin with kisses and teasing nibbles, until you reach his briefs.

 

Looking up at Bucky under your eyelashes, you blink sweetly, eyeing the sweat that begins to build on the ridges of his abs. Your breath ghosts over the material of his underwear while you ask, “Can I have your cock?” 

“Oh, god,” he chokes out while his dick twitches in uncontainable excitement.

“I need your consent, Bucky.” The statement brings him back to the present, grounding him to the sight of you between his thighs and softly reminding him that everything is on his terms.

 

“Yeah,” he gasps. A few deep breaths cause his chest to rise and fall, steadying the rabbiting pulse in his neck. “Yes.” 

With his confirmation, you slowly, gently ease your fingers underneath the fabric that hid what you truly wanted — the waistband slides easily down his tense thighs. Your eyes are focusing on the new inches of skin revealed, the sculpted line of his Adonis belt that runs down to the one part of his body you’re desperate to see. 

Bucky watches you with bated breath — you’re so close to his cock, and it’s still not enough for him.

The small whine of frustration makes you flit your gaze upwards. A sheen of moisture shines over his eyes, and the pout of his lips are shining slick with spit — he looks absolutely wrecked, and you hadn’t even taken his hard cock from the confines of his briefs. 

Deciding to put him out of his misery, you finally pull his briefs down until his twitching length bursts free of the material, standing tall and thick, curved and almost purple from the strain of arousal. Your eyes follow the veins trailing up his length, and you lick your lips once you spot a pearl of precum already forming from the tip of his dick — a sweet temptation that’s teasingly begging you to have a taste. 

You’re speechless, literally awe stricken while you salivate over the length and girth of his cock. “Oh.” The slow blinks of your eyelids leave them hooded, but you continue to stare, hypnotised at the sight of your boyfriend’s huge cock. 

“B— Buttercup?” he whispers, voice tense with worry after the few seconds of silence that stretch while you stare, transfixed. “Is— Is everything okay?” 

You swallow, trying to rid the sudden dryness in your mouth. “Bucky,” you say roughly, and you look up into his doe eyes. “If I weren’t a more patient woman, I’d have your cock in my mouth and down my throat already.”

He sputters, the blotchy redness beginning to creep up from his chest to his neck. 

“You’re so fucking big, baby. Holy fuck— how do you have such a pretty cock?” you wonder aloud. 

“Shit, you can’t say that,” Bucky groans, squeezing his eyes shut as his dick twitches. The far more rapid rise and fall of his chest makes his stomach muscles contract and flutter — the sight lends ideas for the future idea of working him over into the line that blurs pleasure and pain, all to see how he takes it.

 

But you lick your lips, promising yourself to revisit that thought later. Tonight was about him. 

“Fine. I’ll behave,” you tell him, waiting until his eyes open and focus on you before you grin wolfishly. “For now.”

Bucky’s lips part to speak, but before he can work the words past his tongue, you sit up and grab his hands, directing them to your hips and over the fabric of your panties. The hold you have over the back of his hands leaves him unable to pull away — not that he desires to. 

The fabric glides over your hips with your guidance, revealing the bare skin. “Oh— Fuck,” Bucky murmurs, watching the journey the fabric takes until it lands on the floor next to your bed. 

“Buttercup,” he gasps in wonderment. “You— You’re perfect.”

It’s difficult to remain confident while your boyfriend looks at you as though you put the stars in the sky just for him — like he’s seeing an angel. “You’re a true gentleman, aren’t you?” you laugh, trying to hide the way his stare makes you flustered. 

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head, his eyes soaking you in with such a reverence that’s dizzying. “You— Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m taking about because — Fuck. Believe me, you’re fuckin’ unreal.” 

The world seems like it stops on its axis right then and there. You know Bucky’s emotions are heightened and at an all-time high, but you also know that he means every word of what he says — his sobering eyes tell you the truth alone. 

You’re the one who becomes a stuttering mess for a moment, and you stumble over your words before you manage to regain your composure, and you clear your throat. “T— Thank you, baby.” The pause in heated touches gives you an opportunity to check in. “How are you feeling?”

Still trying to gain some semblance of control, he audibly gulps. “I— I’m good, yeah.” 

“Yeah?” You begin to steadily shuffle forwards on your knees, further up his legs to hover over his crotch, careful to not let your body graze him just yet. “You know you can back out whenever you’d like, okay? You say the word and we stop.” 

The small distance between your most intimate parts is dangerously in the balance. 

“No,” Bucky says finally, shaking his head as his hair sweeps over his face. A few strands settle over his cheeks. “Wanna keep goin’.” 

You bite your lip and smile wickedly. “You got it, baby.” 

His bottom lip is trapped between his teeth as he watches you begin to lower your body. “We’re just going to keep doing what we’ve been doing, okay, baby?” You reassure as his breathing picks up. 

But his eyes stay focused and fixated on you.

When your cunt lowers against the base of his cock, the movement pushes his length down until the tip almost reaches his belly button, and even with the visual of you resting over his length as you always did in the past, Bucky isn’t prepared for the feel of his bare dick sitting snug between your folds. His eyes shoot open while he gasps loudly and balls up the bedsheets tightly in his fists. “Shit, shit — Fuck, oh my— God—” 

The palms of your hands smooth over his tense stomach.  “Easy there, big guy,” you coo softly. “It’s okay.” 

His breathing becomes erratic as his back arches against the headboard. “Oh god, you’re— You’re fuckin’ soaked, Bee.”  

You are. Nobody else ever had this kind of effect on you, and so you certainly aren’t ashamed for Bucky to know how much he turns you on. “That’s what you’re doing to me, baby — Can’t help it,” you keen. 

His chest rumbles while he groans deeply, throwing his head back. 

The urge to move is compelling, almost swallowing you whole — Bucky isn’t the only one struggling to keep calm, with his thick length brushing your entrance and putting constant pressure on your clit, it’s a challenge to not take him then and there. 

“Do you remember when we first kissed?” you ask breathlessly before you begin to squirm. “And I asked you to think about how wet and tight I’d be for you?” 

Bucky’s muscles strain as he frustratedly tangles his fingers in his hair. “Fuck, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since, baby.” 

Your hips work a little quicker over his cock, the slide seamless from how aroused you are, and to your surprise, you feel his hips work against you, too. “How does it feel to know your inches away from slipping inside my pussy?”  

The rocking movements of his hips falter as he jerks up and jostles you, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter in a crazed frenzy. “It feels— Please— You’re killin’ me—” 

“My sweet boy,” you utter. “Don’t worry, you’ll have it soon.” 

Each and every plea and whimper that falls from his red-bitten lips only serves to turn you on even more. He tries to flex his hips to push his cock into you, to feel the warmth of your cunt around him, but even he isn’t ready for the sensation that ripples down his spine once the tip catches on your hole. 

“Fuck!” he curses. 

Hurriedly, you move yourself away before he can slip in any further. “Nuh-uh, sweetheart, I need you to be calm for me, alright? You can have me when you're calm, not just yet. Breathe for me.”

“No — I, no no, Bee, please, don’t do this to me. I want—” Bucky vehemently shakes his head from side to side, the vein in his neck almost popping from his exertion to hold back. His hands grip your waist, digging into your skin as he drags you back down onto his cock desperately. “Please, I wanna feel—”

“Oh, Pup,” you sigh with an all too innocent smile. “You wanna be a good boy for me, huh?”

“I can, I can,” he whines. The feel of his hands pawing at your waist sends a thrill up your spine. “Fuck, I can!” 

“Yeah,” you mumble, unsure if you can hold out much longer yourself. “You can, Pup — I know you can.”

“Bee—” Bucky is a pure wreck, his chest heaving with breath, and a film of perspiration builds on his temples. You know it’s impossible for him to garner any more control, and you grant him mercy as you slightly lift your hips up to line the hole of your pussy up with his cock. 

“Bucky, baby,” you call to him, waiting patiently until his wild eyes lock onto you, and you forewarn him, “You're sure about this?”

His bright blues cloud over with a haze of lust, and you shiver when he cries, “Please.” 

“Okay, okay,” you soothe. “Alright, baby — Wait, hang on, sweetheart.” The bed creaks as you shuffle backwards once more. “Let’s get you off the headboard, so you’re comfier.”

The two of you move in tandem so his head rests back against the pillows, and you settle back over his hips, reaching out to smooth your thumb over his cheek. “Better?”

Bucky smiles and nods once, turning his head to kiss your palm.

“Okay.” You brace yourself with a steady breath, and finally sink down onto Bucky’s cock, the tip easing into your cunt with a pop. The stretch from his head alone has you squeezing your eyes shut, but you revel in the way he freezes under you, then the sluttiest whine you’ve ever heard falls from his slack mouth. 

The effort to work past the thickness of his head causes your hands to rest on his stomach, allowing him to hold your weight, and your mouth falls open with a silent scream as you drop down further, taking more of his length. 

Glancing down at your boyfriend to check on him, you find only the whites of his eyes through his hooded lids, and his fists balling so tightly in the sheets of your bed that they begin to tear. 

With a whimper, your walls clench around his cock. “A— Almost in, baby.” Another inch fills your cunt. “Doing— Doing so well, Bucky,” you pant. 

Your nails create indents into his skin while you internally build up the courage to take the entirety of his length. It feels an impossible task, one you desperately underestimated, but you were no quitter. Your walls rhythmically squeeze around him, and your breath hitches when you feel him twitch against the stimulation. 

“God, I want you,” you moan, hanging your head. An unintelligible mumbled string of words or sounds fall from his lips in reply. “Fuck it.” 

With a deep breath and a prayer for mercy, or strength, you arch your back — the wrecked moan that Bucky rasps sends a thrill of hunger up your spine. The slide of his cock against your walls makes you cry out, and you quickly drop your hips until you're fully seated against his crotch. 

“Oh shit!” Instantly, Bucky shoots up from the mattress and wraps his arms firmly around your middle, crushing you against his heaving chest. “Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move — Please — Don’t fuckin’ move.” 

You sling your arms around his shoulders in reply, and the two of you cling to one another with only your heavy breaths disturbing the quiet music in the background. The bare skin of your bodies sticks to each other, glistening in the candlelit room while the silent moments pass. 

Hot, heavy breaths fan over the skin of your neck while Bucky nuzzles his face against the juncture of your shoulder — the movement effectively burying him entirely into your form. There is no way for him to get any closer, or any way to hide his muffled sniffles and gasps for air. 

The beat of your heart steadies and thumps evenly — you pray that it is enough to calm his overwhelmed senses. “Steady, Pup — You’re alright, I’ve got you.” Gently, slowly, you comb your fingers through the damp strands of hair by his temples. “Just stop and let it happen, feel it, don’t fight it. It’s okay, baby.”

“S’too much, too much, Bee— Please, please, I don’t—” He stumbles over his words, working himself up.

“Bucky,” you say, firm but gentle, trying to reason over his rambling. “Do you need to stop?” 

“No!” He holds you even tighter. “Please no, no no, don’t go, don’t move, don’t take— Please stay.”

“Hey, hey— I’m here, I’m here. I’m staying — Breathe, baby.” You rub your free hand over his back, shushing his pleas and continuing scratching your fingers over his scalp. 

As you pacify Bucky, he begins to calm down — his breathing softens, the heightened intensity of emotions flowing easily into a quiet, content peace between you. Cautiously, you slightly lean yourself back and ask, “Can you look at me, please, sweetheart?” 

It's a gradual process as he plucks the courage to lift his head out of your neck and surrender to your request, and your heart tightens when his teary eyes bore straight into your soul. “Oh, baby,” you sigh, bringing your hands round to hold his cheeks. “Was that a lot?” 

Bucky timidly nods, his arms still caging themselves around your waist to keep you close. 

“It’s okay — You’re okay, sweet boy — Doing so good.” The deep-rooted need to reassure him takes hold, an instinct that’s embedded within you to make him feel as safe as you possibly can. “Take your time.” 

“Mm.” Bucky rests his forehead against your chest and listens to the steady beat of your heart, tethering himself back down to earth. 

The charged air that holds the weight of tension finally breaks when he blows a long breath onto your skin. “This is— This is so much better than I imagined. Fuck, this is— Bee, I think I’m seeing stars.”

“Oh my god, you fucking dork.” Your laughter fills the room, full of pure happiness and glee to be able to find such fun in sex. 

He smirks lopsidedly at you until you sigh, the amusement turning to fondness, and you kiss his forehead — almost able to forget the position you’re in. 

But you’re soon reminded as Bucky quietly rasps, “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight — Can barely breathe.” Goosebumps run down the naked skin of your arms at the same time your cunt pulses. He grunts deeply with a sharp hiss. “You really were right.” 

“I did warn you,” you tease, giggling when he lifts his head up and playfully glares at you. Closing the distance, you kiss him deeply, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth as you whisper against his lips, “Ready for me to move now, baby?” 

“Fuck yes,” he groans.  

You don’t waste any more time. Tangling your fingers around the locks at the back of Bucky’s head, you pull and begin to smother his neck with wet kisses, the taste of salt delicious on your tongue. 

Raising your hips, his cock slides out of your pussy, leaving behind a hollowness you crave to fill immediately. Without forewarning, you swiftly lower yourself, sobbing with pleasure at how perfectly he fits inside you. “Bucky.” 

“I know,” he moans, long and low, sounding as wrecked as you feel. “Fuck, Bee — I feel it too.”  

Words fail you, the delightful feeling you’ve waited so patiently for holding you hostage as you pant into his shoulder. 

It becomes easier with each stroke to fuck yourself onto his cock, making sure to grind yourself deeper into his lap each time you come down. 

“I— I can’t fuckin’ think straight.” Bucky’s palms slide over your ass and grip it firmly. 

You laugh deliriously, high on the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and you barely notice the way you instinctively change the motion of your hips, beginning to grind into his lap in circular motions. 

A strangled sounding moan causes your focus to snap towards Bucky.  “Oh— Jesus fuck!” His fingernails dig into your ass as he hysterically pleads, “Like that, baby — Exactly like fuckin’ that.” 

Huffing with a smirk, you breathe, “You like that, huh?” 

“Yes,” he admits shamelessly. You start to speed your motion up, and the filter between his mind and lips completely crumbles. “Your— Your p—pussy feels good — So good. You have no idea — Shit — Keep goin’, please—” 

The words tumbling from his lips are cut off when you push against his shoulders, sending him off balance to lay back down on the bed with a thump. Then, resting your palms on his chest, you lean forward to kiss him. You whisper against his lips, a sly smirk creeping onto your mouth, “Hold on tight, baby.” 

Using Bucky as leverage to hold your weight, you begin to bounce on his cock. The position allows his length to sink all the way into you, his tip hitting your cervix at the right angle to make you whimper. 

“Oh, it’s so— Fuck, I’m so deep— In you.” He struggles to breathe, the wind totally knocked out of him, but he’s mesmerised and completely drowning in the sensation. 

“I know, baby — Stretching me out so much.” A fire simmers in your eyes. The muscles of your thighs burn with exertion, but you refuse to stop — especially not when your boyfriend is a fucked-out mess beneath you, trying to control the subtle flexes of his hips. 

While you’re riding him, far too engrossed in making sure you keep the rhythm steady, you miss the feral glint in Bucky’s eyes. He’s possessed by the sight of your cunt sucking in his cock so deliciously; your slick dripping down onto him and coating his dick. 

Licking his lips, his eyes lock onto your puffy clit, enlarged and throbbing in pleasure, and he inches his hand forward to experimentally swipe his thumb over your nub. His gaze snaps up to you with the unleashed moan you scream to the roof. “Fuck, Bucky!”

You're quickly pulled back forward as Bucky grabs you behind the neck, bringing you down to kiss him. His tongue slithers into your mouth, his muffled groans rumbling against your lips while he continues to buck up into you. 

The need to catch your breath has you pulling away, gasping for air.  

Bucky looks drunk — eyes hooded with a hunger blurring the blue of his irises and the black of his pupils. His pink swollen lips hang open, wet from clumsy kisses with too much tongue for his hazy mind to process.  

You hang your head low between your shoulders and cry, “Why are you so damn big, baby?” 

His hands slink down to your hips, and he gropes at the quivering muscles desperately. “Buttercup,” he tries to warn you — the cries over the size of his dick are sending him into a deeper pit of hunger. 

Your head’s already too hazy to process anything other than the feel of his cock. “I’m aching, how the fuck am I taking you right now?” 

The thrusts of Bucky’s hips speed up, and he bends his knees to plant his feet on the bed, his sole mission to fuck up into your cunt.

“Feel so fucking full, Bucky — Filling my pussy up so good.” The breathy moans fall like chants from your lips. 

The steady, punishing rhythm you maintain falters, and your breath hitches when his cock slips from your cunt — the obscene, slick sound of it slapping against his stomach filling the room. 

You pant and press your hands down on his chest while he groans to the ceiling. “Shit, I—” Bucky’s eyes glaze over when he looks down at his body, the twitch of his cock in time with the hammering of his heart under your palm. “I didn’t mean to—” 

You can’t help but giggle, and the sound immediately calms his worries — the cinch between his brows smoothing over as he looks up at you. “Don’t worry, baby.” 

The movement of your hand towards his cock has his entire focus — his tongue moves over his lips, and you watch the shine of spit; how it makes his lips an even deeper red. “Oh, fuckin’— Fuck.”

His exclamation makes you freeze. “What’s wr—” 

It clicks. 

Though you took him in your heat, felt the pleasure he can give you, the realisation hits you like a freight train that not once this night had you felt the weight of his fully erect cock in your palm; to wrap your fingers around the length and work him over.

“I can’t—”

“Shh, you’re alright,” you soothe, and carefully, you wrap your hand around his girth. Your eyes widen when you can only just connect your thumb and fingers together. “Fuck me—” you gasp, beginning to lift yourself up to line him up to slide back in. “God — You can barely fit in my hand, baby. Here we go.” 

It’s unclear to you what exactly causes Bucky to snap. 

The room whirls in your vision and you gasp with surprise as his body suddenly shoots up and with ease from the mattress, flipping you over in one smooth, fluid motion. “Oh, fuck!”

One second your back is resting against the mattress, over the rumpled covers, and the next, your boyfriend's hands are pushing your thighs as far up your chest as they can go. 

“I’m so sorry, Bee,” Bucky groans, kneeling between your spread legs — one hand holds your legs in place, the other brushes featherlight over your soaked lips. The sharp gasps for air make his voice sound hoarse and raspy.  

He stares down at your pussy, licking his lips. “I can’t—” The fingers that danced over your lips move to grab his cock, encircling it in his large palm before he rests the head of it against the fluttering entrance of your cunt. “I can’t hold back anymore, need this.” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply — the tip of his thumb brushes against your clit and you keen upwards, just as his cockhead slips into you. The slide of him easing into you is smooth, and the drag of his length stretches you inch by pleasurable inch. 

“Oh my fucking god, baby!” Bucky bites the inside of your calf while you whine loudly, your walls clenching down onto him — a tear rolls down your cheek, the size of him is almost too much. “Yes!”

“Fuck, s’deep. I gotta move, Bubs — Please, lemme move.” His weight shifts to cover you, pinning you against the bed while he leans close to pepper needy kisses and bites over the column of your neck. 

“Do whatever the fuck you want, Bucky, please,” you beg, “I want it all.” 

Raising your arms up to hold the headboard, you steady yourself for what is to come, and offer yourself to him on a platter, free for his taking. 

Immediately, his eyes dart towards the movement of your tits, the natural bounce of them with every aborted thrust he makes. “Hnng— Yes,” he rasps. The slow thrusts turn rough, his skin slapping against the back of your sweat-slick thighs. 

Your nipples, hard and pebbled, become his new target. “I want every fuckin’ inch of you, Bee,” he growls, swooping down and sucking your nipple into his mouth. 

The room spins from the dizzying pleasure; the veins on his cock scrape your walls, his wet tongue playing with you, the hairs above his cock teasing your clit. It all begins to wind the knot tighter and tighter in your stomach. 

“I need more,” you gasp while Bucky drags your nipple with his teeth and releases it with a wet pop. Your arms slither around his neck and bring him into your hold. “Fuck, Bucky, please.” 

Corded muscles move you up the bed, and he forces his forearms under your back to hold you close. “Whatever you want, baby.” The fast thrusts slow to a deep, dirty grind — the length of him going deeper and deeper on each circle of his hips. “Gonna— Fuck, gonna give you anythin’ you want.” 

The two of you crash your lips together and whimper into the other's mouth — heavy breaths and pants mingle while your combined sweat builds between your heated bodies. 

“Wanna cum, Buck,” you plead desperately. “Want you to make me cum; feel s’good in me.” 

A huff of breath fans over your lips, and a sly, lopsided grin pulls at the corner of Bucky’s mouth. The covers rustle and from the corner of your eyes, you see him planting a hand beside your head, next to your ear. “Don’t you worry,” he coos shakily through his grunts and moans. “I’ve got ya, Bee.” 

His free hand drifts between your breasts and over your stomach, down to where you are connected. You gasp as the pad of his thumb settles over your clit, and he rubs in tight, fast circles, keeping pace with the thrusts of his hips into your pussy. 

Your thighs begin to shake as you cry into his neck, “Please, keep going — Don’t stop!”  

“Come on, baby,” Bucky coaxes gently. “You can do it. You can cum for me — C’mon.”

The tension in your stomach becomes unbearable — you slap the covers of the bed and ball them into your fist for something to ground you against the onslaught. “I— Ha, fuck!” You heave for breath, panting. “I’m gonna cum!”

“Let go — Can feel you, how tight you fuckin’ are. I’ll catch you, Bee.” 

Your ears ring as your eyes roll to the back of your head, the pleasure insurmountable in its height, when it finally hits you. You convulse through the waves of it, letting it consume you whole while ragged pants for air and hoarse moans fall from your parted lips. “Baby, baby — I’m cumming!”

He still continues to fuck you through your orgasm until the last tendrils of electricity run their course, leaving you a twitching mess. 

An overwhelming urge to be close to Bucky forces your hands to blindly reach out to grasp a part of him. The tips of your fingers graze the warm skin of his bicep, and he suddenly pulls away entirely — your cunt gaping and weeping at the loss of him.  

“Pup?” You whimper. “Come back, what are you doing?” 

“I’m h— Here, Buttercup,” he manages. Unknown to you, the feel of your walls fluttering against his dick almost had him finishing inside of you. His length glistens with your cum, and Bucky has to close his eyes tight and breathe to control himself.  

Stubborn as you are, you intertwine your hands with his and pull him into you, smirking lazily at his shocked gasp when his cock grazes over your cunt. 

Strands of his slick hair tickle your cheeks, and his cheeks are a deep hue of red. “Why did you stop, sweetheart?” you ask. The pupils of his eyes blow impossibly further. “You made me cum so fucking hard.” 

You’re delighted to hear the whine he tries so hard to hide. “I— I panicked,” he admits. “You almost made me cum.” 

Looking down, you see his cock twitching viscously, like he’s about to blow any second. “Aw, baby.” 

You grab his length and start stroking him in your fist — the twist and pump of your fist making him choke and sputter. “Buttercup— What are you— What are you doin’?

“Go on,” you urge him, squeezing his thick cock at the base, and twisting on the pull upwards. “Cum on me.”

“I—” Bucky shakes his head rapidly. “No— I can’t do that — Fuck this feels too good — Can’t finish on you—” 

“Bucky,” you gently interrupt him. “I’m telling you that you can.”

But he shakes his head again, trying to hold out. “Fuck, fuck — Oh, fuck — Baby I can’t please, I—”

You click your tongue and tighten your hand around his cock, pumping him harder faster, a spark in your veins and mischief on your mind. “Why not, hm? I need it — Don’t you want to give me what I need?” 

“Bee—” he pleads. “Don’t do this to me.” 

Though his words say one thing, the way Bucky thrusts into your fist tells you another — he’s dying to cum, the throb of his cock in time with his rabbiting pulse. 

You refuse to have him holding back because the voice in his head is sabotaging his pleasure.

 

“Please, baby,” you beg of him, blinking your eyes and reeling him in on your invisible line. “I want it. Give it to me.”

Bucky bows his head, the curtain of his hair concealing his blown-out eyes. There’s a heavy sigh of defeat from his lips. “Fuck, Bee— What the hell are you doin’ to me?”

Biting your lip, you move the fingers of your free hand up the back of his sweaty neck to thread them through the hair at the base of his neck, and you pull him down to rest his forehead against yours. A wicked grin dances on your lips. “I’m gonna make you cum for me.” 

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you speed up the pace, taking care to focus the pressure of your grip around the head of his cock. 

“Oh—” Bucky chokes on his own spit, his toes curling while his hips work in tandem with the pumps from your fist.

“That’s it, Pup,” you murmur delicately, scraping your fingers over his scalp. “There’s a good boy.”  

“Feels like fuckin’ heaven,” he slurs, whining as he seeks out your lips. “S’close, baby.” 

You direct him, pulling him impossibly closer to slot your lips over his; tongue and teeth caressing with little finesse. “Give me it, Bucky — Please.” The words fall against his parted mouth.

“Gonna—“ The excitement for his climax builds when you feel his cock swell in your hand, the violent twitches of his mounting release. “Gonna cum, B— Buttercup.” 

Lighting a fire to the match begging to burn, you tug his hair back in your fist, the grip tight and unyielding to bare his neck in an arch. The skin of his throat is damp with sweat, and the thunder of his pulse can be seen next to the frantic bob of his Adam’s apple. “Let go — Let go for me.” You lap at the sensitive skin with your tongue. “Make a mess of me with your big cock.” 

The long wait, the weeks leading up to this very moment are entirely worth it when Bucky collapses onto you, his moans unending and agonisingly pleasureful. His hips stutter and thrust with no real rhythm while his cum shoots from the swollen head of his cock, painting your bare skin all the way up to your tits. 

His release seems to never end, it pools over your stomach with no signs of slowing down. 

Bucky trembles with the waves of pleasure, and he buries his face into your neck, nuzzling you to try and retreat from the nonstop sensation of release. Against the sheets, you can feel the way they rustle as his toes curl — the taut line of his shoulders makes him feel bigger while he shivers and jerks over you.  

“Buttercup.” His palms frantically feel over your skin. “It won’t— Fuck — It’s not s—stopping.” 

“Shhh,” you instantly soothe him, running your fingers through his hair and holding him close to you while you continue to pump your fist gently, milking him for all he’s got. “Almost there, Puppy — let it all go.” 

Bucky sobs into your neck as the last few drops leak from his tip, and the pretty sounds of his moans vibrate against your chest. “Oh my god.” 

“So fuckin’ good for me — Did so well, my sweet boy.”

Finally, his cock stops pulsating and begins to slowly soften in your hand. As carefully as possible, you remove your hand and smooth it over the heated skin of his waist. “Take it easy for me, baby,” you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss against his tear-stained cheek. “Remember to breathe.” 

Bucky’s limbs loosen with the lull of your voice, and he eases his body down onto yours, letting you take his weight. 

The two of you lay peacefully connected together, only your shared breathing to fill the quiet of your room. The needle on your vinyl long since raised, the song finishing with a gentle lull while you were wholly focused on him — much like the simmering high that had been building since your first kiss. 

You are loath to interrupt the peace, but his heavy breathing told you that you will lose him to sleep any second now. “Bucky baby?” 

When the rumble of his muffled, “Mhm,” tells you he’s returned back to you, you smile contentedly. “Do you think you’re able to let me clean you up now, hm?” 

It's difficult to not laugh at the way he clings to you, tightening his hold and groaning, “No leavin’ me.” You smother the growing smirk creeping up your face. 

The palms of your hands rub up and down his back, and you kiss the top of his head. “I’ll be quick, sweetheart. I promise.” 

He sighs, much like a tired puppy, and begrudgingly slackens his arms and carefully lifts up off of you, rolling onto the bed next to you. “Hurry back, please.” The slight whine to his voice melts your heart. 

“Thank you, baby.” You quickly shuffle off the bed, placing your feet on the floor. “I’ll be right back.” The floor creaks under your feet, and you rise from the edge of the bed, only, you overcompensate your judgement to hold your own weight so soon — the tremble of your thighs and weakness of your knees almost has you toppling to the floor. “Oh, boy.”

A snort of laughter sounds from behind you, and you look over your shoulder to find a dazed, smirking Bucky. “I did that to you,” he gloats drunkenly. 

Your eyes widen in shock before you giggle along with him. “The cheek of you.” 

Taking slow steps, you manage to make your way into your bathroom to retrieve a washcloth. You take the time to clean yourself up while sitting on the edge of the bathtub, smiling like an idiot to yourself and rebuffing the urge to squeal. 

Upon walking out of the bathroom, your keen eyes catch the subtle peek Bucky makes through the mess of his hair, the wandering of his gaze over your still naked body. 

The blush that covers his cheeks and neck when he sees that you have caught him staring is endearing, when only moments ago he was inside of you, desperate and moaning for more.

  

To humour his shyness, you choose to pretend you didn’t see, and you make your way back to him. It is a true struggle to not give in to the twitching strain of the muscles in your thighs, or how your knees almost buckle from under you.

 

“Here we go, baby,” you sigh happily, both from seeing his soft smile and how you made it to the plush mattress without falling over. 

The warm cloth in your hand goes ignored by Bucky in favour of wrapping his arms around your middle, and he pulls you backwards into the covers until you are propped up on one side of your bed.

You hum warmly while wiping the mess of Bucky’s lower stomach, though you pause when you hover, uncertain, over his softened cock. “Am I okay to clean you up, baby?” 

Looking up at you with his puppy eyes, he nods sleepily. “You’re okay, Bee.” 

Taking care to be gentle, you wipe his most sensitive area and once satisfied, you toss the cloth towards the hamper of your room in favour of sideling up to Bucky. In the process, you turn onto your side and frame his face with your hands, waiting for his eyes to focus on you before asking, “How are we doing, handsome?”

The sound of his small laugh couldn’t make you happier, and his pearly whites gleam with his bright smile. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Buttercup.”

You giggle, a little high from the comedown too. “I take it that’s a good thing?” 

He groans deeply and licks his lips. “Absolutely.” 

You shiver and swat his chest. “Don’t be looking at me like that, you menace.” 

Bucky hums sweetly. “It was amazing— No, wait. It was better than that.” His eyebrows furrow in thought. “It was — Um— Can’t think of the word — Oh, I’ve got it! Astronomical.” 

Exhaustion is beginning to kick in for him, the very last dregs of his energy is being used to be a comedic clown — you fall for him even more. 

A sudden, hesitant doubt creeps into his eyes, the need for reassurance coming forth. “Was it—” He pauses, his eyes searching yours. “Was it okay for you?” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” you coo. The sheets underneath your body rustle as you lay down more comfortably, and you guide his head to lay on your chest, over your heart. “It was perfect — you were perfect.” Kissing the top of his head, you drive his worries away. “Trust me when I say it was fucking incredible.” 

The tenseness of his muscles begins to ease away. “Thank you…” Bucky hesitates, then moves even closer to you — once he is close enough for his liking, he angles his head up to blink at you dazedly. The emotion in his voice makes it waver when he says, “Thank you for taking care a’me.”  

“Always, my sweet boy.” You look down, watching his eyes droop. “It’s all I ever want to do.” 

“You’re so amazing, Buttercup,” he exhales blissfully. “So lucky to have you.” 

Your heart beats out of your chest. “I feel the exact same way.” Unsure you could handle any more of his sweetness, you mumble, “Now get some sleep, Puppy.” 

“Hmph — Fine.” He gives in, finally closing his eyes. “G’night, my Bee.” 

Resting your head on your pillow, you brush your finger over his forehead, sweeping his hair out of his eyes while you sigh contentedly. “Goodnight, baby boy.” 

Warmth floods your heart and a happiness like no other fills your bones, making you glow from the inside out. You’re not sure this night could be any better, and with that thought, you know you’ll rest easy tonight with the man of your dreams huddled in your arms. 

On the verge of surrendering to sleep, the quiet of the night is disrupted by Bucky's sleepy mumble, “I loves you.” 

Your eyes shoot back open, and you instantly look down, finding your boyfriend’s cheek squished against your breast with a little bit of drool gathering in the corner of his parted lips. 

“Bucky?” you whisper, the quick thump of your heart stealing your breath. There isn’t a response, not even a twitch of acknowledgement. With more urgency, you whisper, “Bucky?” 

This time you get a small, soft snore in reply. 

You lay your head back down onto your pillow to stare up at the ceiling. The thoughts and doubts swirl viciously, the intensity of each and every one making you gulp, though one stands out among the rest: did he just confess his love for me? 

There was the possibility of you hearing things — the comedown of the high you’ve been floating on messing with your head. 

It’s not long before all of the day’s events catch up with you. The slowing blinks of your eyelids lasting longer and longer each time; the laxness of your muscles as they settle in for a much-needed sleep. But the question on your mind bears a heavy weight while you succumb to sleep. 

Does Bucky love me? 

The rays of the morning sun shining through the white drapes either side of your window are the first thing you become aware of as you wake up the next morning. With your eyes closed, you can see the yellow and amber glow of the sunrise. 

A strong envelopment of warmth and comfort keeps you rooted in place, as well as the heavy weight of an arm across your middle. You don’t want to move from your spot, you don’t want to wake up yet; still basking in the afterglow of yesterday’s events. 

But the second sensation, the mantra of light fingertips mapping over your face tips the balance of sleep overtaking you in favour of letting your consciousness creep to the surface.

 

Lastly, the final push, the soft, steady puffs of air tickling your nose persuades you to wave your white flag and flutter your eyes open. 

The blurriness of sleep forces you to blink until the fog clears your vision — once you’re able to see the dancing, warm light of the sun, you’re given the gift of your handsome boyfriend, already awake, admiring you with his bright blue ocean eyes. 

They’re the most clear they have ever been. 

The lined skin besides his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the pull of it making his nose scrunch adorably. “Bee,” he whispers, his voice rough from sleep. “Good mornin’.”  

It's a damn killer, the expression of his face — full of true elation and contentment, and it has you falling in love all over again. 

That’s when it hits you — the memory of last night, and what you think you heard him say when he was half asleep. 

Trepidation makes your nerves impossible to conceal, especially when Bucky is noticing every minute expression on your face. It's only a matter of time before the natural courage, granted to you with the haze of the morning, fades away. 

With a heavy gulp, you open your mouth and lick your lips. “Did, uh— Did you—?” The words die on your tongue.

Bucky’s thumb gently presses against your lips, his head gently shaking from side to side — a secret he wishes to keep just between the two of you, not shared with the birds that sing outside your window or the rays of the hopeful morning sun. 

Your eyes are wide, beginning to water with the anxiety coiling inside your chest. 

The crippling worry, however, dissolves when Bucky runs the pad of his thumb over your lips, the motion of back and forth touch grounding you. His eyes find their home deep into yours, and he finally speaks, “I love you.” 

And it’s with an ease, one that has you cursing your inner voice for ever doubting yourself, you say those three words that battled to be said so, so long ago. “I love you, too.”

[luvsupa]

PRINCE GOJO ENGAGED TO WHO?

tags:fem!reader x prince! gojo satoru, childhood enemies to almost lovers to enemies (☹️), smut, (pussy slapping, fingering, etc.) GOJOS A MUNCHH, ōral (f. receiving), spit gojo gets jealous, ANGST, royalty, arranged marriage, forbidden love, kissing, mdni idk what to add..

w.c: 2.8k

a/n: THANK U GUYS AGAIN FOR ALL THE SUPPORT 😙😙 and this is my first time writing smut like thisss so go easy on me </3

+ likes and reblogs are appreciative 👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽

prince gojo masterlist

engaged?

your heart races wildly as the crowd of guests erupts in applause, celebrating your supposed “engagement.” you tug against his firm grip, but he refuses to let go.

looking up at him, you find him already gazing at you with pure admiration, effortlessly convincing everyone that you two are a happy couple. scanning the room, you spot your parents in evident distress, and your heart sinks further seeing the king in hysterics, his guards struggling to calm him down.

speechless and stunned, you stand by gojo’s side in the center of the ballroom, all eyes on you both.

still reeling from the shock, gojo thinks of another absurd thought. he leans in, cupping your face, and pulls you into a passionate kiss. you gasp at his boldness as his tongue slips into your mouth, eyes widening at the unexpected kiss. the crowd claps even more in awe. gojo then withdraws, his face flustered, planting a kiss on your cheek before lowering to your neck, his quiet moans fill your ears as he deeply inhaled your sweet scent.

“s-satoru, people are watching,” you nervously whisper into his ear, pushing him away, but he doesn’t budge. “mm, let them watch,” he murmurs, raising to whisper in your ear, biting it as you begin to find his audacity strangely attractive.

just as everyone admired at your display of affection, all attention shifts to a horrifying scream echoing loudly through the gala. the crowd near the garden doors parts, and you turn to see ayana, staring at the two of you in absolute shock. she looks utterly unhinged, her always-perfect hair now messy, makeup smeared as she lets out another piercing scream, startling everyone, including you.

she moves closer to both of you, and gojo instinctively guides you behind him, protectively. “you whore!” she screams , pointing directly at you, causing the entire audience to gasp at her words.

“everyone, this pathetic lowlife stole my husband! we were together first, planning our future!” she exclaims, her voice cutting through the room as guests start to murmur to each other. for the first time, you find comfort in gojo's embrace, his touch easing your nerves despite the turmoil he has brought into your life.

but he's also the man who has made it his mission to destroy you.

“says the woman who intended to kiss prince nanami in the garden, knowing he's engaged,” gojo replies sharply, causing your heart to race with fear that he might reveal your connection to nanami. “and hired another man to witness it, ayana. you're different,” he adds, prompting you to loosen your grip on his arm.

hiring another man to witness it.

you never informed gojo about the other man; you only shared about nanami and ayana. your eyes flutter as you glance between ayana and gojo—he knew.

he knew about the plan; he orchestrated this.

“you knew?” you whisper, your voice trembling, as he turns to face you, watching as you begin to step back.

ayana appears amused, realizing you were unaware of gojo's involvement in this scheme. “oh, ruru, you didn't inform her it was your plan?” she taunts, approaching both of you as the audience gathers around, their murmurs growing louder.

the situation overwhelms you—gojo closing in, ayana exacerbating things, and the stares of the audience. i need to get out.

just as you're about to turn and run off, you bump into someone. startled, you look up to find nanami standing there, his gaze piercing as you wish you could disappear, never to face the public again.

“kento...” you whisper tearfully, but his expression remains impassive, focused on ayana.

“everyone, please follow us for dinner in the other room,” ayana's father announces loudly, once again startling the guests, who shuffle away with loud footsteps toward the adjoining room for the next event.

you shut your eyes, dreading the judgmental stares of the guests. after a while, the sound of the doors closing signals that the guests have moved on.

“what the hell are you two doing!” the queen exclaims angrily, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor as she approaches. your mother trails behind her.

“do you two understand what you've just caused?” mrs. gojo's voice cuts through, making you feel like you've ruined their reputation. “we've planned for a perfect prince—or rather, a perfect king—to marry you, and now you decide to take matters into your own hands?”

gojo rolls his eyes at his mother's outburst, turning his attention to you. he reaches toward you, pulling you into his chest, away from nanami, glaring intensely at him. your mother dramatically wails how naturally you've grown closer to gojo.

“y-your majesty... she's been plotting to steal your son away from me,” ayana interjects, her tone laced with feigned sorrow, pointing at the two of you for proof. hoping to gain the queen's sympathy.

“satoru, you knew she was to marry nanami. stop interfering!” the queen directs her frustration at her son, who continues to disregard her.

“i knew you would do something, but don't worry, i will fix this,” the queen declares confidently as she strides away toward the extended area where the guests have gathered, leaving the four of you alone in the empty ballroom.

you push out of gojo's grasp and exit, needing to distance yourself from everything and process what just happened.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

you sit in the carriage—well, gojo's carriage—waiting impatiently for him, knowing no other carriage would dare depart without its intended passenger. voices murmur among the guards, and you strain to hear gojo's footsteps nearing.

the carriage door opens, and gojo steps in, his eyes locking onto yours. “i don't want to speak with you,” you say quickly, cutting off any attempt from him to start a conversation. he nods silently and takes a seat opposite you, his gaze unwavering.

“i had to do it,” he begins, and you roll your eyes at the sound of his voice. “i had to do something for myself. i need you,” he confesses, his words hanging heavy in the air. you stare out the window, watching castles pass by as the carriage rolls on.

“you don't understand how much i crave you. my thoughts are consumed with you. seeing you with him set everything off,” he continues, his second love confession almost prompting a smile, but memories of how he's tormented your life flood back.

the carriage comes to a halt, signaling your return to gojo's palace. “goodnight, prince gojo,” you say, a hint of defiance in your tone as the guards open the door for you to exit. you stride towards the entrance, determined to maintain your distance despite his confession.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

you stare at the ceiling as morning rises, you haven’t gotten the best sleep due to everything that occurred the night before. you wish everything was a nightmare and you’d wake up in nanami’s arms.

but the unresolved chemistry between him and ayana hangs heavy.

you groan loudly, reliving the events of last night when you caught nanami and ayana in the garden. “i need to get out of this place,” you mutter to yourself.

rising from your bed, you head towards the bathroom adjacent to your bed. just as you reach for the door handle, it swings open, revealing gojo.

he’s wrapped in a towel snug around his waist, casually holding the ends of a linen cloth around his neck, water droplets all over his toned body as a smirk playing on his lips as he meets your gaze.

shamelessly you let your eyes roam over his beautifully sculpted figure, his larger frame casting a powerful presence. your gaze settles on his chest, where a lotus flower tattoo adorns his left pectoral. 

your eyes began to lower to his abs prominent as he’s been working out a lot. unconsciously your eyes roam lower and lower, staring at his-

his voice breaks through your thoughts, “careful now.” how long have i been staring? “if you want it, all you have to do is ask,” he purrs, his words tempting.

“when did you get in my room,” you retort, avoiding his tempting offer. 

“right after you fell asleep,” he answers, turning to check himself out in the mirror. “you kept holding onto me all night. you talk in your sleep,” he teases, as your jaw drops of how embarrassing it is.

“‘t-toruu, harder mmh~“ 

your mortification peaks as he mocks your sleep talk. you slap his arm to silence him, but he only laughs.

“nothing to be ashamed of, I can give it to you hard mm?” he taunts, but before you can react, he leans down and kisses you. hard. it’s almost a natural thing between you two.

his hands trail down, gripping your waist as he guides you backward towards the bed. breaking the kiss, he softly pushes you onto the mattress, where you find yourself admiring how good he looks hovering over you. maybe this mattress is really good…

the bed dips as he crawls closer, spreading your legs to accommodate him, maintaining eye contact as he moves. impatient, you reach for the back of his neck, pulling him closer, messily making out with him.

your mind goes dizzy as he begins to kiss you lower, going from your neck to your breasts. switching from one breast to another as he massages them through your night gown. you moan his name loudly, not caring how loud you are.

he grins as he sees your face contort in a needy expression. gojo continues to showers you in kisses. he stops below your stomach as one of his hands bunches up your silk night gown to reveal your pussy, bare.

“mmh, were you expecting me?,” gojo murmurs as he teasingly brings his fingers to your slit, feeling how drenched you are. your arousal glistening as your clit twitches, needing any form of stimulation. you’re squirming as he teases you, not wanting to give you the satisfaction you desire.

“I want it ‘toru, wan’ you,” you say breathily, bucking your hips to feel more. he chuckles at your neediness, intrigued by this side he’s never seen before. 

lowering his head, he draws very close to your heat, teasing you mercilessly. tears well up in your eyes from the intensity of his teasing. 

you realize he’s getting off on teasing you, he loves the way your body reacts to him, this fucker.

“f-fuck you,” you manage to gasp out but he ignores your protest, as he focuses on kissing the sensitive skin on your thighs, sending waves of frustration through you.

“such a dirty mouth,” he purrs, finally nibbling at your clit, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from you. he grins, loving the effect he has on you, and spits flat against your intense heat, watching as the glob of saliva dribbles down, down, down to your entrance. oh how messy he loved to be.

gojo restrains himself. holding himself back from going absolute feral, just the sounds of your soft pleads and moans gets him insanely hard. fuck, he thinks.

“how bad do you want me-”

“are you fucking kidding me?” the interruption freezes both of you. your heart sinks as you turn to see ayana standing in the doorway of your room. you try to push gojo away discreetly, but he refuses to budge, unfazed by her presence. he cannot be serious..

he pays no attention to ayana as he dives in, devouring you with desperation, causing you to moan loudly, your embarrassment mounting as she observes. the silence is beyond awkward, it gets worse as the loud squelches from your pussy is all that is heard.

gojo could honestly care less ayana’s watching as he eats you out like a hungry man, devouring your pussy as his tongue laps up your arousal, alternating between his tongue and long fingers. you moan so loud your back arches against the bed as you feel so ashamed that she’s still watching. 

“so fuckin’ wet,” he notes, muffled against you, as he lifts his head to look at the mess. unexpectedly he slaps your pussy, bullying your poor cunt as you almost cum then and there. gojo goes back to eating you, as if you’re all he needs.

struggling to muffle your sounds, you try to cover your mouth, but gojo stops to look up at you. sensing that ayana still hasn’t left. his pussydrunk expression makes your pussy throb once more. he turns his head to look at ayana in annoyance.

“can’t you see we’re busy?” he says coldly, while you finally catch your breath, avoiding ayana’s gaze.

“t-the royal authorities are expecting you two in the ch-chamber,”  ayana stammers nervously as gojo shamelessly brings his fingers to his mouth, moaning softly at your taste. 

is this from last nights scandal?

gojo rolls his eyes, turning back to you. “we’ll be there,” he dismisses her, his lack of concern evident.

“all your families are waiting,” she adds before slamming the door, her anger noticeable in the forceful slam.

“‘toru we need to g-go” you urge as he clearly doesn’t care as he leans closer to you, kissing your sensitive spot on your neck.

“ugh- whatever, I’ll see you downstairs,” he whines and pouts, not wanting to leave you. you swear you see him tear up.

“you need to get out before they get even more upset,” you scold, and as he finally rises from the bed, you notice the damp spot, cringing at the sight. before he leaves, he plants a quick peck on your lips, smiling softly before exiting.

what have we done…

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

after quickly freshening up, looking far more presentable than when tangled in bed with gojo, you enter the chamber connected to the large gojo estate.

inside, the room buzzes with activity—royal guards, authorities, your parents, nanami’s family, the king and queen. across from them seats nanami, ayana, and gojo opposite them, facing the stern authorities. fuck.

all eyes turn to you as you enter, the last to arrive for this crucial meeting. you take the empty spot on the couch between nanami and gojo, with ayana seated on the other side of gojo—how convenient.

“we’ve all come to an agreement. the authorities are giving you a choice,” the king announces, his displeasure evident.

“we’ll proceed with gojo and ayana’s immediate marriage,” the queen declares, prompting gojo’s visible anger and ayana’s concealed satisfaction. the queen then turns her gaze towards you as she continues, “you will move to the countryside and cut off all contact with nanami’s and my own family.”

your heart sinks at the queen’s harsh decision, feeling betrayed and treated unfairly. gojo stands up, angrily protesting.

“if that choice does not satisfy you,” the king intervenes, silencing gojo with a commanding look as he sits back down, his rage radiating. “you will be married off to one of my distant relatives overseas, leaving prince gojo, prince nanami, and duchess ayana here to restore their reputations in society. either way, our families will be connected to the haras.”

tears well up in your eyes as you turn to your parents, their pained expressions crushing your heart.

“don’t i get a say in this? as future king, shouldn’t i have some input?” nanami interjects, surprising you with his defense when you thought he was angry at you. “it’s unfair that my ‘almost’ wife is bearing all of the punishment.”

“you’re not king yet. your path to the throne required marriage. it seems you’ve forfeited that chance, prince nanami,” the queen retorts, pointing towards you.

“send me away, strip me of my title, just please spare her. it was all my doing,” gojo pleads with his parents and the authorities, willing to shoulder all the blame and punishment on your behalf.

“and tarnish our reputation further? ‘toru, dear—”

“i think sending her away would be the best solution for everyone,” ayana interjects, her words landing like a dagger, intensifying your anger.

“ever since she arrived, it’s been nothing but whoring herself to these two, especially ruru!” ayana continues, seeking pity from the room.

“it’s infuriating how he ‘mistakenly’ moans her name during sex…” ayana exposes gojo’s accident, shocking the entire room. you turn to look at gojo, watching his cheeks flush with embarrassment as the king scolds ayana for her untimely disclosure.

“you have three days to make your decision. until then, you are all dismissed,” the king concludes, ending the tense meeting with an ultimatum that leaves you feeling more lost and burdened than ever.

[ywuji]

BABE! wake up!! new yuuji character description dropped! (link incl. spoilers for shibuya arc events)

yuuji lives to fulfill his roles, and this doesn’t change when he becomes your boyfriend. (f!reader & nsfw under the cut!!!)

he’s the sweetest, you think. always updating you on what he’s doing. even though he goes to the heavens and back on days that he’s busy, he’ll always make time to send even a little ‘i miss u ;(((((😭😭🙁❤️’

when he’s finally free, it goes without saying that he tells you about everything that kept him away, even the tiny little things. one week in particular, this included a daily update on a tiny rash on the underside of his buttcheek.

he’s also never shy with his praise and words of reassurance. also with soft, gentle touches, and actions that let you know he cares. he loves you and he makes sure you know it.

it’s not just you he lets know either, it’s his friends, his “brothers”, his teachers, and maybe even random strangers he happens to meet during the day. he takes all the opportunities he can to bring you up in conversation.

”oh that’s my girlfriend’s favourite flavour too...!!”

“oh yeahh...!!! my girlfriend told me about that the other day,”

“oh sorry, i’m busy. ‘m seeing my girl later tonight n i wanna look nice for her so i’m getting ready. tomorrow...? noo, sorry. she’s staying the night tonight so we can spend tomorrow together. …next week? ahh i’m sorry, i—”

even when he’s out with other people, he’s got you on his mind, taking random pics and selfies of things he’s doing, sending them to you accompanied by silly little captions. ‘kugisaki doing choso’s makeup! they miss u baby!!”

very specific hc but also whenever he does a live on whatever app, he’s always talking about you to the people watching too.

“guys i just miss her so much :(“

‘ji i’m watching ??’

“hi, babe. yeah i know, but i still miss you ;(“

he’s the cutest!

nsfw under the cut!

naturally, this also translates to the bedroom.

as your boyfriend, his sole goal during sex is to satisfy you, and god does he do that and more. your moans, your sounds, your body. he loves it all and has to show you.

yuuji’s into overstim—for you and consequently himself too. he genuinely cannot get enough of you. he needs to give you all his big, heavy balls can give. whenever you have sex, it’s always at least two orgasms for you, though it’s usually more than that—you both 'have the time', he tells you. his fingers, his tongue, his cock, and toys even, he’ll use anything and everything to make sure you’re cumming.

“y’look so good, baby, feel so warm… mhm, can feel you squeezin’ on my fingers… so cute.”

“a-ah…! my pretty girl.. my pretty fucking girl.. please cum, baby… just one more... please…”

“please, baby, i love you, please, please, can i cum inside, baby? inside..? please?”

his fav position is missionary. the mere idea of you laying there, all pretty n spread out for him will never fail to get him hard. he loves it’s so easy for him to lean over you and shove his mouth onto yours, as he mercilessly fucks his hips into you. he’s gentle but unrelenting with it—he doesn’t mean to be this intense, genuinely, it just happens that way. he just loves your so pussy much.

being able to see your face is probably his favourite part of the position though, watching your changing expression as he switches from a fast to slow pace and back to fast is something he wishes he could witness time and time again, so he makes it happen time and time again. (highest sex drive in the franchise if i may say)

he loves going face to face with you when you’re both about to cum. it’s hard for him to not fall onto your face when his orgasm hits, he can’t help it when your pussy feels ‘too good’ clenching so tight on him like that. he makes sure it doesn’t happen though, he would never want to hurt you.

when you manage to pry yourselves off of each other, he’s quick to tend to you. moments ago he was making you shake and cry from pleasure, and now he’s stroking your hair, massaging your chest, and talking about some random food craving he’s getting.

his aftercare is so lovely n he’s goofy with it too. so many side pokes, and dick, and butt, and pussy jokes, but you don’t mind. it’s him and you love him.

[badgers-and-cats]

Can you do a George Weasley smut with innocent reader?🥹

Such a good girl. (George Weasley x fem!reader)

Masterlist

18+ MDNI

AFAB reader

Warnings; fem reader. smut under the cut. Innocent reader. Oral (fem receiving. Mentions Masc receiving but doesn’t go into detail). Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it!!!). Pet names; sweetheart, baby, princess, darling, good girl. Brief mention of breeding kink. Alludes to further smut

A/N: love an innocent reader fic, but lowkey struggled with the innocence part, this is my first time writing for an innocent reader… so apologies if it isn’t so good💕

“So wet for me already?” He smirks once you’re naked and he is face to face with your pussy. You blush, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks at his words. That is soon forgotten though, with the sensation of his wet lips kissing your pussy, and then your clit; until he is sloppily making out with your heat.

He alternates between licking your juices and fucking you with his tongue: becoming harder with every breathy moan that leaves your lips; swollen from your previous make out session. Oh how he was obsessed with you. He felt as if he had barely touched you, and here you were. Almost completely fucked out just from his tongue.

“George I’m so close… feels so good,” you moan softly, gently tugging at his hair. This only makes him work harder, eagerly wanting to taste your sweet juices. To feel them soak his mouth. And you do just that. He groans at the taste of your cum, it turning him on somehow even more than he already was.

He moves to now make out with your lips; earning a small moan from you, at the taste of yourself on his wet, swollen lips, something you never expected to get aroused by.

“Can you relax for me, sweetheart? Don’t wanna hurt you.” He asks, kissing your soft lips, as he moves his thumb to gently rub circles your throbbing clit. He can feel you’re relaxed - but without the prep work of his fingers, he worries.

You hadn’t heard him - your focus being on his thumb slowly moving against your bundle of nerves. Something you had never done yourself - too scared of getting it wrong. Of not doing it quite as well as he does.

Every time, he worried about hurting you. His precious girl. These are the moments the outside world will never get to witness. You, the innocent girl, with her legs spread for one of the Weasley twins; who is being so slow and so patient with her; without a hint of trickery in sight. Everything he says and does in these moments are just for her. His girl.

“Baby? Did you hear me? Wanna be inside you,” his mouth has now made its way to your neck; carefully placing kisses and bites all over. His hips involuntarily thrust forward; seeking out any kind of friction to ease his painfully hard erection.

“Mhm, yes George, I’m ready,” you relax under his touch as you speak. He will never get enough of you. The way you look up at him eagerly as you suck his cock, seeking his praise. The way you trusted him to be your first everything. The way you continue to trust him.

The one thing he will never get enough of is sinking his aching cock into your wet heat, feeling the warmth grip his length; inviting him in. It was like a drug. And he was addicted. If he didn’t control himself: he could cum there and then, filling you up nice and full. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, he thought, thinking of filling you up with his babies.

There were many things you did he couldn’t get enough of. The look on your face as he stretches you out only encourages him to move his hips, the moans leaving your mouth as he does somehow turn him on even more as he thrusts into your tight hole with the most perfect rhythm; one that he knows you love. He’d love to go faster and harder, but that can be saved for next time.

His thumb continues his assault on your clit, only now it’s much harder, your hips thrusting up slightly at the sensation- he just smirks at your eagerness.

“Mm Georgie… I think I’m gonna…” you moan, almost pathetically, as the knot in your stomach threatens to release. No matter how often you do this with George; no matter how many times he makes you cum, there’s something about saying it out loud that makes you feel somewhat shy. But he loves it.

“I’m close too baby… god you’re gripping me so much… cum for me princess…” he groans, his thrusts now becoming slower, yet slightly harder. With one final thrust; he cums, as he is balls deep inside you; painting your soft walls white. Your 2nd orgasm of the night comes at the same time, hitting you hard as your juices soak his balls and his sheets.

“Fuck… that’s it darling did so well for me, such a good girl for me. My good girl,” he groans, before pulling out gently, kissing your forehead and wrapping you up in his arms.

Oh how he was excited for next time. You have no idea what he has planned, but he is certain that you will enjoy it, no matter how much rougher it will be. Because you trust him.

[dilfl0v3rss]

https://twitter.com/bestpornclipsx/status/1660915013479964674?s=46

what would have had to happen for y/n to be in this situation with ony

hmmmm idk

sikeeee!! i always know😛 link

“got some nerve…coming up in there like you ain’t got no sense” his voice deeply touched your ears as he spoke. your ass was hot from the many times he’s struck it. pussy being pounded into oblivion from the back. it was almost certain you were going to be sore and bedridden in the morning. all because you let jealousy cloud your judgment.

“ma i just told you, been telling you the whole ride home, i don’t know that girl” you rolled your eyes at him, not caring about the irritated look your boyfriend was giving you. “you mean to tell me this bitch knows your name, mom’s name, and has your number in her contacts, and you never fucked wit her? boy get the fuck outta here wit that!” you pointed your long acrylic nail in his face as you spoke. getting up close and personal to show him that you weren’t playing.

ony took a deep breath before replying. crossing his big arms across his chest to keep himself from just snatching you up right there. “first of all…watch your mouth. second, i need you to put that big girl brain to good use and think.” you rolled your eyes as he continued to to break down your assumptions. “no cocky shit, but i’m probably the most known nigga on this campus and you know that. so of course people gon know my name. as for my number, i can’t stop girls from asking around for it. she prolly got it from someone on the team and i’ll check em for that. and you can check my phone to clarify ‘cause ain’t no female in there but my momma and you.”

your face began to soften as his excuses were starting to make sense, an apology already on the tip of your tongue as he continued. “as far as knowing momma’s name, you gotta be smarter than that princess. after every game what i say to the camera?” your eyes revert to the floor, guilt clouding your mind as you start to feel bad for how you were acting. ony softly cooed at you, inked fingers tilting your chin up so he can look into your eyes. “tell me ma” you sighed deeply, taking a long pause before answering his question. “y’say ‘first i wanna give a shout-out to my very first supporters, my parents Abena and Todd Jackson.’ m’sorr-”

“sh sh sh. what else baby?” your eyes instantly began to water as you recited the second part of his speech. “a-and y’said ‘a-also wanna give a big shoutout t-to my beautiful g-girlfriend y/n.’ m’sorry papa i was just so mad and i–” he cut you off again, this time by snatching you up by your throat and bringing your face closer to his. “this is why we communicate ain’t it? to prevent shit like this, but you ain’t do that did you? nahh….you came into the team house yelling and screaming, embarrassing the both of us ‘cause you let your emotions get the best f’you. so now…. ima let mine get the best of me. go in the room and strip.”

it was a matter of minutes before ony had you stripped and screaming in the middle of the bed. dick punishing your insides so good , but you held that need for release with a death grip. “daddyyyy i said m’sorry alreadyyy. p-please let me cumm” you whined, drool dripping from your lips as ony replied with a hard slap on your ass. “no. you ain’t learn yet” he grumbled, angling his hips downward so he can be felt in your stomach. your mouth opened in a silent scream, the feeling too much for you as you tried to inch up the bed.

ony watched you closely, letting you move up just enough so you can take a sigh of relief before yanking you back onto him. “don’t run from me mama. you gettin what you deserve” you let out a loud whine as you felt him begin to hit you deeper than he did before, heavy hand coming down on your ass repeatedly. your ass was definitely going to be sore in the morning. “you love me?” ony asked, stroking you just right to the point where holding your orgasm was almost unbearable. “y-you know i love you daddy”

the next thing you knew, your back was too his chest and ony has his hand tightly around your neck. the brutal pace of his hips slowing to deep strokes. his dick repeatedly hitting the sweetest spots inside of you. there was no way you could hold it in anymore, a quiet whine escaping your lips as your release slowly trickled down your thighs. ony wasn’t far behind, his ropes of cum shot deep into you as he slowed his hips to a stop.

“if you love me then communicate wit me cause now you gon be here all night. turn over.”

[nebulousbrainsoup]

quiet

🌙 SUMMARY: sometimes, your boyfriend has a little trouble expressing himself. he gets stuck in that pretty head of his, thoughts swirling like a storm. thankfully, you know just how to help him out of it. 🌙 PAIRING: kang yeosang x gn!reader 🌙 GENRE: fluff, smut 🌙 AU/TROPE INFO: established relationship, comfort after hurt 🌙 WORD COUNT: 1.8k 🌙 TAGS/WARNINGS: non-sexual dom/sub dynamics, stressed yeosang, stress/anxiety reactions, non-verbal yeosang for some of this, explicit discussion/negotiation of d/s dynamics & safety measures, pet names/nicknames (my Sangie, baby, angel, the rest happen in the smut lol), nonverbal cues as communication, subspace, brief mentions of food and eating, cuddling, not proofread 🌙RATING: mature 🌙 A/N: this is... a new venture for me, as far as released fics go. i have about a million blurbs like this that will never see the light of day, but after what happened yesterday... i had to give my boy some comfort. i hope you enjoy <3 🌙 smut tags under the cut ; divs from @cafekitsune 🌙 masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

🌙 SMUT TAGS/WARNINGS: clothed sex, dom/sub dynamics, dry humping, cumming in pants, emotional release crying, traffic light check-in system, pet names ([my] Sangie, baby, angel, baby boy, sweetheart, good boy), reader is possessive, gratuitous praise, humiliation if you squint, sub!yeosang, dom!reader

The moment your apartment door swung open, you knew something was wrong. It wasn’t the act itself that threw you; unannounced visits weren’t Yeosang’s style and, as you had come to expect, he had texted you before coming over. There was nothing telling about the way it opened either, the quiet creak of the hinges a welcome familiarity over top of the tension you felt radiate through the space. No version of the sing-song greeting you were accustomed to met your ears as you heard it click shut, and you frowned. The crease between your brows only deepened as you heard his bag hit the floor of the entryway, your jaw tightening. 

This wouldn’t do.

Quiet footsteps shuffled toward the kitchen but you paid them no mind, focusing entirely on the pot of soup in front of you. A small, pleased noise sounded from the doorway, and within moments, strong arms were wrapped around your waist and Yeosang was burying his nose into your hair. You basked in the touch for a moment, letting yourself indulge despite your boyfriend’s disregard for your rules. With a steadying breath, you clicked your tongue in disapproval, moving to step out of his grasp as you reached for a cabinet above you. He only coiled tighter around you as you shifted, a broken little whimper leaving him and three gentle taps landing on your hip.

Your heart broke as you settled back onto your feet, recalling a months-old conversation for the hundredth time.

“So, I’m okay with all of that. It’s really stuff I already do anyway,” Yeosang affirmed, a pretty blush coloring his cheeks and ears as he looked over the tablet in front of him. “I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m like… breaking in or something when I walk in.” 

You both giggled at that. “So greeting me should be easy, then. We’re starting out simple, Sangie, that’s kind of the point of this.”

He nodded in understanding, fingers tapping against the table. “So, one thing I already do and one new thing.” 

It was your turn to nod, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. It’s kind of selfish too, honestly… I know I don’t have a lot of space, but even just giving your bag a more permanent home than by the door just… feels nice. It feels like you’re not going to run out on me over the little things.” 

The look he directed back up at you was one of sheer adoration, and you felt your stomach flip. “Of course I wouldn’t.” 

It was your turn to blush. You had to pause, gathering your wits before opening your mouth to speak but, to your surprise, your boyfriend beat you to it. “There’s just one thing. I… Sometimes, if I have a particularly overwhelming day, I don’t always… have words. And I don’t want to keep myself away from you or get in trouble with you on my worst days just because I’m too in my head to speak.” 

Something gripped at your heart, squeezing it tight. “We can do nonverbal cues, like we do during regular scenes. You could tap me three times to let me know you’re out of words, if that works? That way you can still use your double tap to safeword, even outside of the bedroom, but you don’t have to push yourself to provide an explanation.”

His eyes lit up, a soft little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s perfect.”

You had known it would happen at some point, but that didn’t keep your heart from hurting. “Oh, my Sangie,” you murmured, reaching back to card a hand into his hair. Another pitiful whimper left him and some of the tension drained from his shoulders at the attention. “I need to finish dinner, baby.” Again, a whine of protest, and his grip around you tightened. “Angel,” you prodded, and sighed internally when the pet name had him melting against you. “You can have all the attention you want in ten minutes after I finish dinner. Why don’t you go put your bag where it’s supposed to be and curl up on the couch in the meantime, hm? Pick out a show for us to watch while we eat.” 

He huffed a sigh but you felt him nod against your neck and squeeze you tight once more, pressing a kiss to your head before heading off back into your apartment. You turned, watching him go with a pained expression. 

No, this wouldn’t do at all.

The moment the last drop of soup was gone from both of your bowls, your dishes were swept away, deposited in the sink by your boyfriend, who quickly bundled himself up into your lap upon his return. You chuckled quietly, carding a hand into his hair as you sprawled out on the couch, his ear pressed against your steady heartbeat. Between the dull roar of the drama on the screen, the soothing rhythm of your fingers in his hair, and the warmth of the blanket across his legs, Yeosang quickly found the worries of his day fading away. His mind went hazy as he melted against you, eyes slipping shut as comfort and safety overtook him, lulling him into a familiar, floaty headspace. He felt more than heard your chuckle as you took note of the change, scratching fondly at his scalp.

The drag of your nails sparked the pleasant warmth in his gut to something stronger, a low groan leaving him that seemed to startle both of you. He jolted in your lap, eyes blinking back open, and you chuckled quietly as a flush painted his cheeks and ears. You grinned at him and he whined, burying his face back into your chest. The squirming only brought another fond laugh to your lips, this one cut short in a gasp as Yeosang froze, another whimper leaving his lips.

He was hard beneath his sweats, his length now pressed into your thigh from his shifting. The tips of his ears were tinted bright red, and you smiled fondly as you cupped his chin. He turned his chin up to you willingly, eyes wide and glassy. 

“Needy, baby?” You teased, and he nodded immediately in response. “Do you have your words back? You know I don’t like playing if my angel can’t talk to me.” 

His eyes left yours for a moment as his brow furrowed in thought, but when he met your gaze again, he nodded resolutely. “‘M green,” he murmured, voice gravelly from disuse.

You beamed at him, shifting to grind your thigh against his arousal and delighting in the weak little noise you pulled from him. “My good boy,” you purred, carding a hand back into his hair. 

Yeosang groaned as he shifted up and braced himself on his forearms, burying his face into your neck to press soft kisses to your skin. Slowly, you let one hand drop to his hip, guiding him to grind against your thigh. His breath caught in his throat for a moment, another broken sound leaving him as he quickly settled into a steady rhythm.

“Is this what you want, angel? To grind yourself on my thigh and cum in your pants like a teenager?” He whined, burying his nose against your neck. You sighed as the combined sensations lit a shudder down your spine, holding your boyfriend close to you. “Want me to get you off just like this?” His hips stuttered, and you felt him nod against your neck. “Words, baby.”

“Y-Yes,” he gasped, and you bit your lip to bite back a groan. God, he sounded so wrecked already. Had floating in subspace for you really affected him this much? “If… Wanna take care of you, too, but it feels so good, ngh…”

He trailed off, hips rolling faster against your leg, and this time you couldn’t bite back a quiet, pleased moan. “Don’t worry about me, angel. Tonight’s all about you, okay? My baby boy had a long day,” he buried his face into your shoulder at this, another whine leaving him, and you felt your chest tighten again, “so he gets to choose how he cums tonight.” 

Once more, his hips stuttered and his breath caught at once. “Wanna… like this. Then,” he gasped, teeth nipping at your throat as he rutted harder against you, “then…” He trailed off with a high whine, his movement against you becoming more desperate.

“Don’t worry about what comes after, sweetheart. Just worry about now. You’re here, with me, doing so well and looking so pretty for me, and that’s all that matters, okay angel?” 

He tensed in your arms, a half-choked sob escaping his lips, and when you felt the first warm, wet tears drop against your skin, your heart dropped. The hand still resting against his scalp dug in and you tugged, trying to pull him away from you. A sound slipped from his lips that was positively wrecked, and one hand snapped up from the couch to bunch your shirt up in his fist. The desperation he clung to you with as he chased his high had you hesitating, but the tension in your shoulders remained.

It seemed Yeosang noticed, his lips pressing urgently over your neck to soothe you, words spilling from his lips unfiltered as you remained rigid. “I’m good, I’m okay, I’m s–so, oh, green, please, it just f–feels s’good and I… need this, need you—”

His reassurance had you relaxing, nails scraping against his scalp once more and pulling another pretty noise from him. “Just feels too good, doesn’t it, angel?” He nodded furiously into your neck and you breathed a laugh, shifting where you sat. There was no denying the effect this—your boyfriend, trembling and sobbing in your lap, overwhelmed with pleasure—was having on you. 

Gently, you coaxed his chin up as you had before, meeting his teary eyes with a warm smile. “You look so pretty like this, Sangie. You can cum whenever you want, okay? You have my permission.” 

He let out another broken sob, hips rolling against you once, twice more before they stuttered into aborted little jerks. You watched, enthralled, as his jaw dropped open and his eyes blinked shut, the pooling warmth of his release evident even through the layers separating you.

“There you go, baby,” you sighed, leaning in to catch his lips in a deep kiss. You were both breathless when you parted, resting your foreheads against each other. “Feel better?” Yeosang nodded, humming affirmation. “Good. Now, let’s go clean you up, and you can tell me all about those plans you have for later, hm?” 

The groan he muffled into your neck had you giggling once more, pressing a reassuring kiss into his hair. This was better.

TAGLISTS: [open, apply here.]

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© December 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. reposting and translating of author’s work is prohibited.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

⛧ 𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝙸𝙸 ⛧

⛧ Pairing: poly!slasher!minsung x chubby!fem!reader

⛧ Genre: slasher au/horror/angst/smut

⛧ Summary: It's Halloween 1996, you've just broken up with your toxic ex, and there's a killer on the loose. When you go to the local video store to find your next distraction, you run into your longtime crushes who have their hearts set on looking after you. But you must be careful. Not everyone's who they appear to be.

⛧ Word Count: 2.k-ish

⛧ Warnings: If you don't like horror turn back now. This isn't graphic by any means but there are horror elements! Slight sadomasichism, full blown yandere vibes, mentions of toxic ex, mention of dead body w/ tame description, shallow knife wound (you don't get stabbed. no worries), knife/blood play, a lil smut because there's kissing/fingering/nipple play, pet names (babe, baby) a threesome happens but is only referenced, slasherfucker reader, reader's kinda losing it

⛧ A/N: This is part 2 in a series. I linked the first part in the summary. Part 1 was dark and fluffy while this one is really dark and angsty. There's still romance but said romance is kinda psychotic. For the record, I'm in no way encouraging you to go out and have sex with two psychokillers. But if they're Minsung hot? I meaaaaan....

💀 <<< Rewind to Tape 1 or Keep Going to Tape 3 >>> 💀

Han laughs, bringing his arms around your waist, “Oh but sweetie, we’ve played your game. Don’t you wanna play ours now?”

Street Fighter is a game. Monopoly is a game. Minho forcing you to hold a knife to his throat in the middle of their kitchen? This is unlike any game you’ve ever played before. Against your better judgment, you throw caution to the wind and ask the million dollar question.

“And what are the rules to this game of yours?” 

Minho clicks his tongue, delighted at your morbid curiosity, “It’s simple really. If I can make my lips touch yours without the blade slitting my throat open I get a kiss.” 

“And if he doesn’t—” Han muses, “I’m down a roommate I suppose.” 

“Kiss or death, baby” Minho says, leaning into the tip of the blade so that it's agonizingly slow to witness. He stops when it pricks his skin, a scarlet drop of blood rising to the surface. Your fingers tremble around the handle of the knife, your body running ice cold at the realization that this is actually happening. 

“You’re both fucking psycho!” you shout, twisting free of them with reckless abandon. You stumble backward into the kitchen counter, the blade still in your hand. When you regain your footing you notice tiny droplets of blood decorating the white tile floor. You trace their source to the much larger cut in the side of Minho’s neck.

Han stares at you with a Milky Way galaxy of stars dancing behind his eyes, “So she does have it in her.” 

Time itself seems to come to a halt when you register what you’ve done. You hadn’t meant to do it but, accident or not, you did it. “Oh god, no, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. I…I…” you stutter, tossing the knife into the sink. Minho takes a deep breath, running his fingers across his wound as he approaches you. “It’s okay. I’ll live” he smirks, applying blood to his lips like some luxurious lipstick, “Now about that kiss.” 

Minho’s close enough to you that you can feel his shallow breaths against your face. His bottom lip brushes yours and your mouth falls open without hesitation. The voice of the girl you were before you came here whispers for you to run—leave this place and never come back—but it’s far too late for that. Minho locks you in a kiss, metallic and sweet, that makes you a stranger to yourself. 

It’s not you hungrily kissing Minho, blood staining his collar as he takes greedy handfuls of your plush body. It’s not your cheek that Han cups, tilting your head to the side to steal kisses and taste that last bit of blood on your tongue. Only…it is you and you’re loving every second of it. So much that when Han unbuttons your jeans, slipping a hand inside to tease your clit, you’ve already managed to soak through your panties.

“Aah, I knew it” he whispers, lightly stroking your entrance, “I told you she was the one. That she was special.” You moan into Minho’s mouth when Han’s fingers sink into you, your cries of pleasure echoing within his cheeks. “It’s true. You’re our special girl, aren’t you?” Minho hums, his thumb circling one of your nipples through your shirt. 

The praise goes to your head in the worst way, setting a once cold body ablaze with lust. Your walls contract with every mention of how special you are—of how long they’ve waited to have you here. Han’s never had his fingers this drenched before, his mind’s already running wild with thoughts of licking your juices from them once you come. The noises you make are so melodic, so splendid, that they'd burn them into their memories if they could.

Minho’s sharp eyes lock onto yours, fingers toiling away at the delicate hooks of your bra. “Can we keep you?” he asks like a demon masquerading as a child. Innocence with something darker lurking beneath, waiting to tear you to pieces. The answer comes easily, driven by your thirst to be devoured.

“Yes,” you moan, exhaling at the relief of being freed from your bra, “I’m yours.” Han licks up the side of your neck, softly nibbling at your earlobe as his fingers pick up speed.

“All ours,” he whispers, “Forever.” 

Grainy black and white dots dance across the TV screen, casting a white glow across the bed where you lay naked cuddled up beneath the blanket with Han’s childhood teddy bear. It’s 3AM and Camp Counselor Sleepover Murder Party 4 ended an hour ago. Not that you were paying an ounce of attention to it. Your focus was placed entirely on being bent into a series of unholy positions by the two men you expect to see when you open your eyes. But when you finally do—limbs still tingling from your last orgasm—they’re nowhere to be found.

Yawning, you force yourself up in bed, squinting at the light from the TV. Holding your hand up to shield your eyes, you notice the dried up blood on your fingertips. The events of the night come back to you gradually like a fuzzy radio signal sorting itself out. Your mouth is saturated with that same metallic taste from before, the sweetness of it having long faded. Finding it too nauseating to tolerate, you retrieve your underwear from the floor and set out in search of something to wash the taste away.

Stepping out into the hallway you find yourself in near pitch black darkness. The only guiding light is the glow of a lamp from the bottom of the staircase at the opposite end of the hallway. “Minho!” you call out, taking slow cautious steps down the hall. You extend your arms out on both sides, feeling around for anything you might bump into. You hold your breath, listening for even the faintest sound of his voice but it never comes. Finally reaching the staircase, you grab onto the sides and make your way down.

You call out again, this time trying another name for good measure, “Han! Where are you guys?” It suddenly occurs to you that this is the moment in slasher movies where the girl wanders downstairs and gets sliced up by some masked psycho killer. You stop halfway down the stairs, glancing up at the darkness you left behind. “Fuck that” you huff, jogging the rest of the way down the stairs to find safety in the light.

Finally you’re back in familiar territory. To your right you spot the kitchen and your heart jumps at the thought of the Halloween candy left untouched on the table. But your tooth rotting dreams are derailed by the sound of whirling somewhere to your left. You turn to spot a heavy wooden door left slightly cracked. It’d look like any other door if not for the two deadbolts drilled into the frame. Off to the side sits a black garbage bag, the kind contractors use on construction jobs, and it’s stuffed full of…something.

Hearing the low chattering of voices, you drift towards the door whispering to yourself the whole time. “Why are you freaking out? Nothing’s wrong. They’re probably just taking out the trash. Don’t be so—” You choke on your own words as you stare down into the trash bag. It is full of trash. There’s pizza boxes, empty soda cans, and crumbled up chips bags all from last night.

And then there’s something else.

The tip of something red poking out from between the pizza boxes. You lean in closer and make out deep wrinkles carved in plastic. Pinching the end of it you pull it from the trash and you feel even more nauseous than before. It’s a mask. Not just any mask. The same mask your ex had on when you saw him at the video store. A chill runs down your spine, making you let out an unexpected squeak that brings all of the background conversation to a halt.

“Hello?” Han’s voice rings out, seemingly from beneath you. You crack the door a little more, peeking in to find another set of stairs leading down into the basement. “Everything okay up there?” Minho asks, his tone oddly suspicious of you. You clear your throat, tucking the mask back into the trash bag, “I’m—I’m fine. Just got a little snack craving is all. Are you guys good?”

You’re met with silence reminiscent of the moment before Minho forced you to cut his throat. “Why don’t you come down?” Han insists, bubbling with joy, “We have a surprise for you!” You pull the door open all the way, shuddering at the creaking sound the old wooden stairs make when you step on them.

“A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

“One you weren’t supposed to see yet” Minho pouts, “But you’re here now so whatever.”

Minho’s adorable tendency to whine gives you the sense of normalcy you needed to get you to the bottom of the stairs. But when you reach it you wish you hadn’t. The basement is nothing like the welcoming warmth of the rest of the house. It’s pristine and white, the polished floor icy against your bare feet. In each corner there’s a large cabinet stocked with all sorts of medical supplies. It reminds you of an operating room in one of those medical dramas.

It is an operating room and at the center of it, in a pool of blood that leaks between the cracks in the tiles, is the partially dismembered body of your ex boyfriend. “Hi, baby” Han waves with the hand not currently holding a cordless saw. Still in his underwear, he’s dressed in a long black apron with the gloves to match. Minho’s dressed the same and both are slick with blood.

Before you can think better of it, you’re screaming at the top of your lungs and bolting back up the stairs. All the while images of torn flesh and fractured bone flash in your mind. You couldn’t stand that man, hated him in fact, but you’d never wanted to see him in pieces.

Spotting your purse by the front door, you make a mad dash for it clueless to the two figures gathering behind you. Your vision clouded with tears, you fight with the front door locks to get out. “I knew it was too soon” Minho sighs in disappointment, “We should’ve waited.” Han slips his gloves off, coming over to kiss you on the cheek.

Your body recoils, shaking in fear, “Don’t hurt me. Please.”

“Hurt you?” he scoffs, flipping the lock open, “I’d never hurt you. You just seemed like you needed a little help.”

Minho flops down in a chair near the door, messy hair falling in his face, “Take my jacket at least. It’s cold out.”

Their calmness is odd to say the least, making you reevaluate the fear that you feel. “You’re letting me go? Just like that?” Han plucks a wool trench coat from its hook, draping it over your shoulders. He pulls the door open and a slight autumn breeze blows through the door. “I told you. We don’t want to hurt you. We’re here to protect you...and maybe teach you how to protect yourself.”

His sincerity makes you uncomfortable and you feel yourself splitting in two again. This time the old you wins and throw yourself out into the night, scanning the street to find where you parked your car. The block is as dark as the upstairs hall, giving you the sense that you’re on some terrifying island all your own.

You can't make sense of why they’d let you go. Any normal person would drive straight from here to the police station. You know their faces. Their names. Where they work. Where they live. Do they want to get caught?

“You can’t run from who you are forever, pretty girl!” you hear Minho taunting. You look back to see them watching you from the doorway, smiling lovingly in your direction.

Minho winks at you, blowing you a kiss, “See you real soon, babe.” 

[haveihitanerve]

"He didn't kill joker!" Jason threw in his face. "B never avenged me! he never loved me! He. Didn't. Kill. Joker." Dick was quiet for so long Jason thought maybe he'd actually succeeded in shutting him, when he spoke, voice quieter than it had ever been. "He almost did."

The words took a second to register. "bullshit!" Jason spat when he had finally regained his tongue. Dick remained cool, staring out of the window. "He almost did." He repeated, as if those words weren't currently rattling around in Jason's brain. "When- when Joker killed you." Dick cut off, staring at the floor. "He went crazy." he whispered. "I- i was visiting because I knew it had- destroyed him. But I didn't realize how bad it was until-" Dick bit his lip. "until I got the call. It was Alfred. He was-" Dick took a shuddering breath and Jason braced himself. "He was stuttering and shaking and ordered me to get to Bruce's tracker immediately and I-" Dick shook his head. Jason had to admire his older brother for speaking so clearly. If he was reliving a moment in his life when he had witnessed Alfred, fucking Alfred, shake and stumble over his words, he would have been much less composed. "I didn't question it. I didn't even put on my suit. I just sprinted to where Bruce was. I thought-" Dick reached up a hand to his eyes and Jason realized with a jolt that he was crying. "I thought he had killed himself." Dick whispered. "i thought he had finally grown tired of it- of living without you, of fighting with me, of not being able to hold a child in his arms anymore without blood being involved." He shook his head, still staring at the floor.

"And I hated him. I hated him for leaving me, for leaving Alfred, for not having the backbone to stay and figure things out and heal- to not stay and try with me anymore. I hated- I hated that he had given up." Dick's hands were trembling, and he curled them into fists to hide it. "I hated that after everything we had gone through together, after all the life you and I had brought into his life, after all the times he had grilled it into me to just get back up- that he had just given up. Given up on life and- given up on me." The words grew so quiet Jason had to strain to hear them. And then he wished he hadn't. Dick shook himself, getting back on track. "So anyway, I raced over and... he wasn't dead. But he was just- sitting there. His legs over the edge of the building and I- I didn't understand why Alfred had sounded so scared. Why he had begged me to run." Jason had the horrible realization that he didn't want to know how this story ended. But he let Dick continue. "Until I got closer." Jason tried not to vomit. "He was- drenched in blood. It was as though he had been in a dunk tank over blood instead of water. And Joker had been the ball." Jason pressed a fist to his mouth. Dick still wasn't looking at him. "I-I didn't know what to do. So I just- sat down. Leaned against him." Dick took a shuddering breath and Jason placed his feet wide, bracing himself. "And then he started to talk." Dick whispered, a tremor in his voice. "He told me about what he'd done, and he spared no detail." Jason couldn't breathe. Something like anger, but worse, was choking his throat. "And when it was all over- when he had told me the last of the description, he turned and looked me dead in the eyes and told me, "he killed my son. if he, or anyone else, ever touches one of my children again- I will do far worse than what I did to him."" Jason sprinted to the bathroom and painted the toilet with his insides. When he returned, pale and shaky, Dick was still standing where he had been. Calm, cool, collected. "He almost did." Dick repeated once more, still not looking at Jason. Finally, he turned, making eye contact. "But you have to understand, for Dad? Killing him is too small of a punishment."

[darkbluekies]

P.O.V

Mafia!yandere OC x reader x mobboss

Summary: kidnapped by Silas’s rival, you're forced to see Silas's dark world from a point of view he never wanted you to witness

Warnings: yandere, kidnapping, gore, mentions of violation, mentions of nsfw?, violence, crime, manipulation, reader breaking, self guilt, angst, blackmail (let me know if i should add more)

Word count: 4.1k

“Let me go!” you shout as you struggle against the two men holding each of your arms in a painful grip. 

“Be silent”, one of them demands, “or I’ll cut your tongue off.”

You’re pushed down on your knees on polished, wooden floor. Quickly, you look around in the room you’ve been forced into. Is it an office? A living room? Just an hour ago, you were in the backseat of Silas’s car, waiting for him to finish a mission. You had been alone with two drivers who got shot before you could process it. It all went downhill from there.

A man walking from behind a desk catches your attention. He looks to be around Silas’s age with dark hair, dimples and piercing, blue eyes that makes you shrink.

“So this is Silas little playmate”, he smiles and grabs your chin to get a better look at you. 

Your neck strains. The man snickers and touches your lip with his thumb, almost waiting for you to open your mouth. If he forces his thumb past your lips, you’re going to bite him. Hard. Thankfully, he doesn’t. He crouches down in front of you and tilts his head. 

“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” he asks tauntingly and caresses your cheek. 

You remember how terrified you were when you first came to Silas, how you barely dared to move. But now, after getting kidnapped a second time, you feel a bit bolder. You’ve already been put through hell and back, what more do you have to lose? You slap his hand away with a glare. 

“Feisty too”, he chuckles. “You’ll regret that, bunny.”

“What do you want?” you spit out. 

“I brought you here because your boyfriend hasn’t done his part of our agreement and I am sick of waiting.”

“What agreement?” 

“Just a simple business thing. Not much to fuss about … however, your boyfriend didn’t give me what I asked for after I gave him what he wanted. So … I took something he liked to trade for my part of the agreement. This time he has to fulfill his part.”

You take a deep breath. Silas will just have to come get you and then it’ll all be over. Everything will be okay. 

“But … I’m in the mood to kid around a little”, the man says in amusement. “I’m tired of Silas seeing me as a joke … send him one of his little playmate’s fingers.”

You flinch as your eyes widen. Quickly, you shoot up from the floor and you sprint towards the door in hopes of somehow saving yourself. The two men who dragged you in manage to grab you. You scream, kick and fight. On the leader’s signal, they let you go.The force makes you fly into the brick wall, hitting your elbow and head in the process. There’s a burning pain you have no time to care for. You sink down on the floor, pressing your body close to the wall, body trembling. Fear has crept into your heart by now. 

“I thought you’d be more brave”, the leader says. “Aren’t you the partner of a mob boss? Haven’t you already seen all the horrible stuff he does? Hasn’t he done them to you? Or is he the type to hide it all from his sweet, little, innocent darling? Answer.”

“He … he doesn’t show”, you stutter and swallow air. 

“Well, I am going to. I am going to ruin you for him. If he wants you all innocent and pure, I’m going to make sure he gets a destroyed partner back. That will make him second guess trying to mess with me in the future.”

You’re sure that your heart has sunken down to your stomach. If there’s something you’ve had to thank Silas for, it’s that he’s shielded you from all the horrible stuff he deals with. 

“Don’t look so scared, I’m not going to kill you”, the leader says as he moves closer. “You will go back to Silas, you have my word. I’m just going to roughen you up a little — show you a different side of the world you’re living in.”

You glare at him. The man drops his smile and walks back to his desk. 

“If you know what’s best for you, you’ll stay there like a passed out drunk”, he mutters. 

The men who dragged you in leave the room. You look around, but stay where you are. You have to get out somehow, have to escape. 

You’re not sure how much time pass, but when you no longer can feel your legs, the man stands up from his computer.

“What’s your name?” he asks. “Silas is a clever bastard, hiding your identity. And don’t you even try lying, I will know.”

You don’t answer.

“Give me your name or I will rip of your finger nails until I get letter for letter”, he says lowly and crouches down in front of you. “Do you understand that, bunny?”

“Y/N …”

“Are you lying?”

You shake your head quickly. The man grabs your collar and lifts you up on your numb legs. You falter before finding your steps. He holds a knife to your throat. 

“Scared?” he asks.

“N-No”, you lie. 

He scoffs with a smile and pulls you over to his desk. He stands behind you, trapping you between his muscular arms. There’s a video on his computer. The thumbnail is enough to make you sick. You can't tell that it is exactly, but there's blood and someone being tied to a chair.

"I don't want to", you gulp.

"You're going to watch every single video I show you, do you understand that?" the man whispers in your ear. "Or else I'm really going to cut one of your fingers off and send it to your boyfriend. I'm not kidding."

He reaches for the mouse.

"Please don't", you whisper weakly.

"Why? Are you afraid to see the truth of what your boyfriend is doing?"

"I-Is it Silas in the video?"

"No. He's not dumb enough to film his sessions, but I know for a fact that he does this kind of stuff too. Now, watch or I'll bring out the knife."

He presses play. The first thing you hear are echoes of sobs and moans. The entire screen is filled with a man missing limbs. Two masked men are torturing him far beyond what he can handle.

You clench your eyes shut and feel the man behind you grab a fistful of your hair before yanking your head back.

"I told you to watch, bitch", he says. "So watch."

He throws your head back. Whiplash is hitting you and you hold your hand over your throat. You continue to watch the video with tears running down your cheeks. The images burn into your brain. You won't be forgetting them any time soon.

"I must say, watching a video isn't the same as … actually experiencing it, don't you agree?" the man smirks.

You feel sick.

"Just get Silas", you say harshly, raising your voice. "Get him so I can leave!"

"Not yet, my little bunny", the man says and holds his heavy hand on your shoulder. "I'm not done yet. I'm going to taint you like you've never been tainted before. Better yet, I'll break you."

All his words make you shiver. The man grabs your arm and pulls you up from the chair. He drags you out of the room, through a pair of corridors and down a flight of stairs. The place you've ended up in reminds you of Silas’s basement … just much, much worse. People are playing games, drinking and doing drugs … all in the same room others are torturing people. Is this a red room or a casino?

"Spend ten minutes down here and you'll never be the same", the man chuckles and pushes you towards the group of people.

You stand still, not knowing what to do. Your body is not reacting to any of the signals your brain is telling you. You can't remember the last time you've been so scared.

Silas, help me. Please come help me. Save me. I'm so scared.

You've never wanted him to come for you this badly before. Normally, you want him as far away as possible.

"What are you waiting for?" the man behind you asks. "Walk around. Take it all in."

You don't move. It doesn't take long before you feel a push harsh enough to make you fall forward. You hit your knees on the stone floor.

"Oh my, look at this little thing", a seductive female voice murmurs. "Already on their hands and knees? Too easy."

You're quick to sit back on your butt and glare at the woman who talked to you. She's sitting by the bar with a few other women and men, all looking dolled up in old, torn clothing.

"Look at that innocent sparkle in their teary eyes", another woman snickers. 

"This is Silas sweetheart", the leader smiles from above you. 

The group of people by the bar raises their eyebrows.

"Silas, hm?" a man asks and jumps off his tall stool. "This is a bit too perfect."

"He must be paissed that you took them", the first woman laughs. "I'd pay to watch his face right now."

You look around, seeing all kinds of horrors. People experiences the worst side effects from substances, people fighting, blood, torture … it all belongs in a nightmare.

Silas, please …

You start to sob even worse. If this is a nightmare, you want to wake up.

"Yes, that's it", the leader smirks.

He's quick to pull up his camera and film you sitting in a fetal position. The women who taunted you crawl over and put their grubby hands on you.

"Let me go!" you scream and fight them off. "Don't touch me!"

"See something you recognize, Silas?" you hear the man ask. "Y/N turn around and tell your dear boyfriend how badly you want him to save you."

You don't want to give into the man's disgraceful request. It's humiliating, but you're terrified. You want nothing more than for Silas to save you.

The women grab your face, turning it to the camera.

"Come on, Y/N …", the leader says playfully. "Do it."

The women twist your arms and you scream.

"Stop it!" you scream in agony. "Silas, help me, please!"

The man chuckles and cuts off the video before sending it. It doesn't take long before his phone rings.

"Silas!" he says with a twisted smile. 

"What the fuck have you done?!" Silas screams back. 

"I wouldn't have to do this if you had fulfilled your end of the promise, Silas. I want my documents. And you're going to give them to me if you want Y/N back."

"You'll get your fucking papers. Tell me where and I'll be there now."

"Oh, not now. I'm too busy. How about tomorrow at five pm?" 

"No, now."

"I'm not done with your darling yet. I have so much to show them."

"Show what? What are you doing?"

"If you're going to bring Y/N into this world, why not show them what you've dragged them into?"

Silence. 

"You can't", Silas says. "You wouldn't fucking dare."

"Oh, but I've already started. Tomorrow at five pm, the old warehouse. Bring only two men and I'll do the same. No weapons, no tricks."

"Fine. But you'll pay for this, trust me."

The man chuckles and hangs up. He turns to you and bends down to lift you up in his arms. 

"Tomorrow at five pm you'll be free", he says as he carries you out of the basement.

It's the third man he's beaten to death. Silas’shand is throbbing with pain and he doesn't know if the blood on it is his own or the poor men's — most likely both. He's not done yet. Everyone should feel his wrath. Even the devil must be afraid of Silas right now. He hasn’t looked  himself in the mirror and perhaps he shouldn’t. 

“Boss …”, his right hand man says quietly, not raising his head to look at his boss. “It’s just a few hours … please try to remain calm-”

“Just a few hours?” Silas scoffs and swipes everything on his desk down on the floor. “Do you know what can happen in ‘just a few hours’?! Y/N could very well be dead when I get there!”

“I don’t think they’ll kill them … in that case they won’t get the documents. He’s very persistent on getting the documents.”

He goes pale. “Yeah, you’re right … but … Y/N … they could violate them in any way … and I won’t be able to stop it …”

Silas sinks down on his knees. Every cell in his body lost their adrenaline, leaving him aching and hurting. He can feel his heart breaking in pieces, feel it bleeding into his lungs. He’s terrified of the condition he’s going to find you in. 

“Boss”, second in command tries again. His voice is gentle and sympathizing. “Don’t think like that. Y/N is strong … and smart. You know that.”

“But I never pushed past Y/N’s limits. They don’t care about their well being, they won’t stop. Even if they scream, cry and beg … they won’t care.” He leans his head against the wall. “I should never have left Y/N alone in the car …”

“You could never have known that they’d break into it.”

“I knew I fucked up the second I saw the dead drivers. But it was too late … how could I let those assholes take Y/N?”

“You tried to shield them by letting them stay in the car. Otherwise they’d have to see you kill someone.”

“Seems like they’ll have to watch that now anyway.” Silas clenches his bloody fists. “I’m going to kill that little insect for ever trying to mess with me. I’m going to end him for touching my Y/N.”

The night have been filled with more than you've ever anticipated. That man made sure that you were going to see as much terror as you possibly could. From watching people get limbs cut off to burned and filled with acid. You could never have imagined someone melting … or imagined the smell.

I just need to hold out. Hold out until it's over. Just a few hours.

The hours drag on by like snails. You're curled up in a corner of the office with the leader by the computer. Your body is trembling. The person you were yesterday feels so distant, so different. 

"Very well, it's time to wrap up our little visit", the muscular man says. "And for you to return to Silas."

"What if he doesn't … come to pick me up?" you whisper, mortified by your own words.

What if he doesn't want you anymore now that he knows that you won't be pure anymore? You'll know it all, you'll be tainted.

"Then I'll keep you", the mob boss answers with a grin. "I'll force you to watch everything until your fragile brain breaks. Can't wait to see you numb and unresponsive. Get up."

Slowly, you pull yourself up on your feet. You feel sick to your stomach, the images of the night's horror still visible in front of your eyes. They never had to touch you, they could break you nonetheless.

The man grabs your arm and pulls you with him, out of the room, out of the building. You’re forced into the backseat of a gray car. You keep your head down the entirety of the bumpy ride. You’re exhausted, hungry and broken. Even if Silas gets you, you won’t be the same. It won’t matter if he comes. It’s too late. 

You’re pulled out of the car and forced into an old, abandoned warehouse. 

“Now … let’s wait”, the man says and holds you still. “Silas will be here soon enough.”

Not even ten minutes later, you can hear the screeching of a sports car’s breaks. You look up, seeing Silas and two of his men walk into the warehouse. The sight of him makes you tear up. You’re so relieved that he came to get you, but you’re so ashamed of what you’ve become — what you let that horrible man do to you. Silas is wearing his suit and dark coat, hands buried in his pockets. You have never seen such a dark expression on his face before. His face twitches as he sees you and he clenches his jaw. 

“Let’s make this quick before I kill you with my bare hands”, Silas says coldly and gesticulates for his men to give him the documents. “Give me what’s mine now.”

“The papers first”, the man says calmly and takes a tighter, warning grip on your arm. “Afterwards I’ll return your sweetheart.”

Silas clenches his jaw and throws the folder carelessly on the ground. One of the men beside you takes the folder and the leader lets you go. Without hesitation, you run towards the man you earlier didn’t want anything to do with. Silas opens his arms for you and you run right into them, crashing into his firm body. He wraps his arms around you, holding your head into his chest. You're not going to have to see anymore horror — he'll make sure of it. He lets you cry while stroking your back. Heavy sobs exit your shaking body, causing his heart to bleed thickly. You breathe in Silas familiar scent and cry even harder. He holds you firmly, mortified of having you slip away from him again. He wants to say something, wants to do so much worse than that man ever did to you, but he can’t. He doesn't want to put you through even more pain, doesn't even want to let you go. 

“I don’t understand that angry look, Silas”, the mob boss taunts him. “You brought them into this world, you should have known this was inevitable. Actually, you should thank me. I did all the job for you, you didnt have to watch their breakdown.”

Keep calm. 

Silas bites the insides of his cheeks to avoid saying something that can escalate the situation. He doesn’t want to scare you any further. If he's going to beat him to death, it's going to be out of your sight.

“Let's leave”, he mutters lowly and puts his arm around your shoulders. “We’re done here.”

Silas gives him one last glare before he pulls you with him out of the warehouse. He fights back every impulse to turn back and beat that pick senseless.

“Tell me about what they did to you”, he whispers to you. “Did they hurt you badly?”

You shake your head again without lifting your face out of his warm chest. He breathes out in relief. He had imagined the worst. What would he have done if they had given you forever physical damage?

“They forced me to watch … w-watch people get killed”, you whisper, scared to even raise your voice an octave. “In all different kind of ways … it was horrible. I could never have imagined that people could do such things to each other …” you hug yourself when your stomach growls. “I also didn’t get to eat anything and every time I was about to wall asleep they hurt me to keep me stay awake … I have bruises …”

“The bruises will heal, I promise”, he says comfortingly. “I will cover all the mirrors in the house, you won’t have to watch yourself if you don’t want to.”

You sniffle. “Thank you …”

“Of course, baby.”

Silas is in pure disbelief over how someone can treat an angel like you this way. You had nothing to do with his work, you are completely innocent … how could they do this to you? The mere thought makes him see red. The mob boss’s taunting words dance around in his brain like annoying mosquitos. It wasn’t his fault, Silas tells himself, he didn’t bring you into the world, he kept you out of it. He shielded you!

Your legs cave in once you reach the car. He helps you into the backseat and buckles you in, wiping a few tears on the way. He’s about to crawl in after you, but he stops himself. 

“Keep an eye on them”, he demands the two men he brought with him. “I have to tell that son of a bitch one thing.”

“Should we come with you, boss?” one of the men asks. 

“No, keep an eye on Y/N. And I mean a really close eye. I’ll be fine. They don’t have weapons.”

You break out in broken sobs and reach for him. “N-No, don’t leave me!” you scream. 

“I’ll be back in a minute, baby”, he says softly and kisses your cheek. “If I don’t tell that man my mind, I’ll regret it big time.”

Silas closes the car door and runs back to the warehouse. He storms over to the man and lunges his fist as hard as he possibly can towards his face. The other man stumbles and loses his balance. His men come towards Silas, but he manages to send them flying as well. He hopes that they hit their heads hard enough to never wake up again, but frankly he doesn’t care. It’s not them he wants to get at — it’s their horrible, disgusting leader. He continues to force his fist into the mob boss’s face until he no longer moves. Silas wants to kill him. He’s going to kill him.

“You should never have been so stupid to touch what’s mine”, Silas pants and stands up to reload his stamina.

He is filled with adrenaline and won’t stop until the mob boss is dead. He punches on and on and on again until he’s sure the man is dead. He spits at the man’s corpse and storms back to the car. Quickly, he removes his bloody coat and wipes his hands on it to not scare you any further. Silas hurries to get into the backseat and hold your trembling body in his hands. 

“You’re safe now”, he whispers in your ear. “Don’t cry, I’m here now and everything is going to be okay. He’s not a threat anymore. You don’t have to worry.”

You look at him with big, glossy, red eyes. How is anything going to be okay when you're no longer the person he fell in love with?

"I'm sorry", you sob.

"Sorry?" Silas asks in confusion and he feels his heart break all over again. How could you ever think such a thing? "Why are you sorry? You haven't done anything wrong, little thing, don’t even say that. I should be apologizing for ever leaving you alone in the car. I should have trusted my gut and not have brought you on that stupid mission. The car has been upgraded, they’ll never manage to break in again. Not that I will ever leave you alone in it again …"

He takes your hand and lifts it to his lips, kissing desperately. The guilt he’s feeling is greater than anything he’s ever felt before. It’s a feel piercing through his heart.

“I hate to see you so upset … tell me what I can do to make you better”, he pleads and cramps onto your hands. “I will give you anything you want, nothing is too much … I could even allow you to meet your parents …”

At the moment, all you want is to take a break until your brain works again.

“I just want to sleep”, you sniffle and shake your head. “I’m so tired, I haven’t slept at all …”

In other words, you want to escape this living nightmare in hopes of finding it easier in dreamland. They kept you awake all night to force you to watch those horrible events and videos. If you weren’t too mortified to be sleepy, they’d push, kick or pull your hair hard enough to make you wide awake. 

“Of course”, Silas answers quickly and positions himself right. “Sleep on my shoulder, darling.”

You hesitate. You don’t want to be unaware, what if something happens again? But … you’re so tired … 

“Nothing is going to happen to you”, Silas reassures you as if he could read your mind. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere, do you understand that?”

You nod carefully.

“I’ll never let that happen to you again”, Silas says firmly and kisses your forehead. “You have nothing to be afraid of. I’m right here by your side.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Just rest, baby.”

You lean your head onto his shoulder and shut your eyes slowly. He holds his arm around your shoulders to keep you in place, even bringing his coat around you. Continuously, he kisses your forehead while fighting back tears. It grows like a ball in his throat, but he refuses to cry. You are safe and that bastard is dead, he tells himself.

It’s all over … but his rage is still burning inside his lungs. He’s not done yet.

[sunlessea]

the sunlight is an illusion. barely peeking through the trees, clearly not there. they straddle it's waist where it is 'neath their weight, and reach their hand up to the false sky. no light dances across its fingertips, thus they gesture 'tween their chest and its own to make their point. the sun's heart is broken. its efforts, they seem to be saying ... amount to nothing, in the end.

@londonfallen › mr hearts.

[jakesbeloved]

pure filth under the cut. read on your own discretion.

"Fucking dirty girl" Jake muttered under his breath, spitting down on your core, making you whine desperately.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" His voice was almost sympathetic. Almost. But with the way he was preventing you from moving, rough hands pining down your hips to the bed, you knew very well that he was far from that.

You felt frustrated tears forming in the corners of your eyes as you writhed in his hold, desperate for some friction.

"Say it." He inched his lips closer to your ear, breath fanning across your neck. "Beg for it. Tell me you want me to make you feel good, and I promise you, the only thing that will be crying tonight is this pussy."

Even with tears prickling in your eyes, you managed to pull a smirk on your face, your stubbornness taking over. "N-Never." You croaked out to him, hooded eyes lustfully gazing at his.

"Oh?" He suddenly pulled his hands away from your hips, making you gaze up at him confusingly. "Is that so, hm?" And before you even had a chance to wit back, you cried out, feeling a single thumb brush down your walls. The touch was feather-light, but given how sensitive you were, it was enough to make you whine and buck into his hand desperately.

He quickly pulled his hand away, causing a disappointed whimper to escape your lips. Jake hummed, a daring smirk contouring his face, and you could tell he already knew he won.

You looked at him, panting, and sighed in defeat. Fuck it.

You glanced away, pink hue covering your cheeks as you pathetically whispered. "Please Jake..." You muttered, clearly embarrassed.

His face was a mixture of pride and lust as he teasingly cocked his head at you. "Hm? What was that? Need you to say it loud and clear baby."

Your eyes snapped to him, frustrated. "Please Jake..." You whined out, a little more clear now. He clicked his tongue, still not satisfied.

"Please what? I think I'm gonna need more than that..." He drawled out, making you shiver with rage and lust.

"Please Jake, make me fucking cum!" You yelled at him, making him throw his head back with a laugh.

"That's a good girl..." And before you could whine more, he suddenly sank two fingers inside you with no warning, making you groan in relief. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You only clenched around his fingers in response, making him chuckle. "My poor, sweet girl..." He pouted mockingly at you "This poor pussy has been aching for me all day... And all you had to do was say pretty please." He clicked his tongue once again, making you buck into his hand more.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, making you whine impatiently. He only chuckled at your greediness, his eyes fixated on his fingers that disappeared and reappeared out of your cunt. You tried grinding against his hand, desperate for the sweet release, but he shook his head at you disapprovingly. He pinned down your hips with his other hand, his calloused fingers gripping your flesh.

"Don't you fucking move. You take what I fucking give you. Understood?" He stopped moving his fingers, expecting an answer. You gulped before eagerly nodding your head. "Y-Yes, sir."

Jake smirked at you, his eyes gleaming with lust and dominance. "Good girl."

The praise alone made you desperately clench around his fingers, but he suddenly pulled them out of you, making you cry out.

"Jake, fuck- Please don't stop I-" suddenly your pleas were cut off as his mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue diving into your entrance as his thumb rubbed fast circles on your clit.

You arched your back as you gasped, immediately burying your fingers into his hair, pulling and tugging as he lapped at your soaked heat. He groaned into your core, sending vibrations throughout your whole body.

"Jake- Fuck please Jake- Dont fucking stop-" You panted out desperately, hips grinding into his face.

"Give it to me princess. Cum for me, fuck- Need to taste it so bad."

His switch in his tone made you even more aroused. He desperately lapped at your cunt, and with a final suck of his mouth, you came undone, your vision going white from the pure ecstasy and pleasure from all the teasing and edging.

"Thats right princess, ride it out. That's a good girl..." He watched as you slowly came down to earth, your heart racing and your chest rising up and down with soft pants.

Oh but he wasn't even nearly done with you.

~The End.~

________________________________

[kingconia]

#4, #9 and #28 with Rook Hunt! He seems like a possessive lover

4. “You know I'd do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.“

9. “Damn it all to hell, if I don't get to have you tonight then I'm never going to be able to have you.”

28. ”Come and get your fix.”

cw: slightly spicy? mentions of possessiveness and slight obsession (from both sides, lmao)

•

In the world of kings, princes and magical creatures, you were no one.

It was something you accepted rather quickly; this world was never yours to begin with, and no particular sadness was met by this early realisation. The role of temporary guest came easily to you, the understating of the fact that you will leave this place as soon as Crowley will come up with something, always lingered at the back of your mind.

And so, attaching to someone was prohibited. From your perspective it would be easier this way, to be able leave it, without loving someone.

You were nice to everyone to the point all of them meant nothing to you. You treated them like characters, whose stories you witnessed accidentally. Different books with curious main characters. And nothing more.

Well. Until Rook Hunt.

This story started rather ridiculously. While you hunt down backstories of others, he hunted down you. He thought of you—and that was flattering—as a unique beast to this little collection, a new target. It was the fact that you had nothing in this world that made you so special in his eyes. An attractive little thing, he said.

Despite everything—or rather, exactly because of it—you preferred to ignore him. You rolled his eyes as you felt his ghostly presence in the rooms, and your lips thinned when he talked to you, spluttering little complements here and there. Eventually, though, you got used to it.

To all of him.

In one of many days like this, you suggested him to stop hiding in the bushes or climbing on the rooftops. Instead, you allowed him to follow you.

And the game began.

What started as a strange experience ended up being the most meaningful thing that you made. He was following you, and from now, you followed him as well. And what others called a strange alliance between two of you, grew into something more.

Apparently, Rook was kissing as skillfully as he shot animals down. And, oh, you were nothing in your soul if not starved.

Rook tasted as a pure madness; a tip of his sharp, arrow-like tongue filled your mouth with bittersweetness, dragging your further in the tunnel of insanity, along with him. His every single touch, each praise, tied you even more to him, making utterly desperate.

Rook Hunt tamed you. And you were happily giving up.

”Oh, mon précieux,” he murmured, pressing his chest to yours, as he caught in the corridors of the school, shamelessly, ”it is a little late for running away from me, don't you think?”

It was. Yet, you gave it a try.

The impact of his man dawned on you suddenly as you realised how far you were from your own rules. Your own decision not to be attached to anyone was long forgotten. Now, you know, leaving this world will hurt.

”You know I'd do anything to have you stay by my side, right?” His soft lips pressed to the line of your chin, in something between a kiss and mere touch. ”Anything.”

You closed your eyes, collecting yourself. It was time to stop this game.

”Rook, cut your nonsense,” your breath came out as a roar, when his fingertips traced down your neck, stopping on the tight-buttoned collar. ”I will leave this place eventually. Stop hurting both of us.”

”Maybe I should just break our favourite mirror,” he purred, as if ignoring what you said completely. ”That will leave you without a choice, hm-m.”

”Rook,” you hissed.

His voice was sweeter than honey, and the words that left his lips were so nicely poisonous that you desired nothing but to drink it right from his mouth.

What a graceful nightmare he was.

”Be honest with me, ma prière, do you truly believe that you will ever leave this place?” He stopped his distracting actions, eyes now fully on you. ”Or is that your own way to apologise before people you left in another world?”

You hardly had anyone back there, and you never felt belonged to anywhere. Could it be the reason why you were sent here? Could it be the argument to allow Crowley to stay? Could it be—

”You are thinking too much, mon amour,” the tip of your noses met. ”Will you have me or no?”

Oh, how dared he to ask, when he knows it already?

”Damn it all to hell,” you laughed bitterly, fingers digging in his lean shoulders, bringing him as close as it was only possible. ”If I don't get to have you tonight then I'm never going to be able to have you.”

Your breath mingled together, and the sharp corners of his lips curled in a disturbingly beautiful smile, when his hands squeezed your hips possessively.

”Here you are, ma bête. Come and get your fix.”

Before you know, your lips were already brought together as you clinged to each other desperately, teeth meeting with a clicking sound, and tongues intertwining in breathless gasps.

Rook might tamed you. But he didn't win. Because it was your name that was engraved on his heart, just as he branded his own in your chest.

And there was no turning back now.

•

A/N: Rook calls reader ”my precious”, ”my pray”, ”my love” and ”my beast” on french in this order.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By His Command 4

Summary: dinner erupts into a marital spat. (Handmaid AU)

Warning: this series will contain violence, dystopian aspects, rape and noncon, blood, coercion, possible pregnancy and other dark elements. Please read these warnings and beware.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Thank you for reading! Also feedback and comments if you dont mind. Maybe a reblog. 💕💕💕💕

You stare at the table in the terse silence strung between the Commander and his wife. They sit at opposite ends, as if in a face off, but say little more than prescribed dialogue. Aside from their stilted lines, the air is left to curdle.

The Commander takes a deep breath, a low hum as if he weighs some novel idea. His wife pushes her food around her plate but doesn’t eat. You haven’t tasted much yourself, afraid that you might draw the wrong attention.

The Commander plants his elbow on the table. You stare at his arm as he leans in your direction. You gulp as his wife grips tight her utensils.

“Are you ovulating?” He asks abruptly.

You nearly choke. You keep your head down, reaching up nervously to tug on the cap, just near your chin. You don’t know how to answer.

“Commander–”

“May the Lord open and all that but has he… opened?” He urges.

“Commander,” his wife reproaches, “at the table?”

“Suzanne,” he snaps and points at her harshly, “I speak to the handmaid, not you.”

“I have her weeks. She is not.” 

“Again, I didn’t ask you,” he insists as he balls his hand to a fist, “do you bleed, handmaid?”

You gulp and press your hands flat to your stomach. You stare at the table cloth, still without an answer. You nibble your lip as he leans closer and closer.

“Well?” He goads, “answer me, handmaid.”

You lift your head and shake it. “No, Commander, I do not.”

“Great, then we don’t need to wait,” he declares. “Those calendars are all guesswork, anyhow. Commander Willis got his first early in the cycle–”

“That is enough,” the wife, Suzanne snarls, “it is not dinner table talk.”

“It is her only reason to be here. Of what else should I talk? Her sparkling wit? He enthralling conversation?”

“You do not need to talk to the handmaid. She should eat in her room–”

“Shut your shrew mouth,” he grabs his knife and points it down the table towards her, “why so bitter? You begged for this. Maybe the Lord did smite you for your arrogance, huh? You swore we wouldn’t need one of these.”

“You’ve never complained for them before, hm? An easy excuse for your perversion. Imagine if the Committee were to know of your predilection–”

“Watch that tongue lest it be cut out, ruinous woman,” he sneers.

She snorts and looks away. She stares at the wall and you peek up to see how her cheek dimples with the curl of a cruel smirk.

“How can I quicken when you cannot stay hard–”

“Enough. How can I be anything but soft with a bitch like you?” He slams his fists down and stands, “you goad me.”

“You started this conversation–”

“You are my wife. You take my order and my order is that you shut the fuck up.”

You sit back, bending your arms, hugging yourself as you cower amidst their argument. The Commander marches towards you and you sink down lower. His hand grips the chair above your shoulder as he puffs with anger. He stares at his wife as he reaches down to touch your shoulder. She does not react.

He trails lower until he cups one side of your chest, bending to purr into your cap. You sit rigid as a stalk and he kneads you through the red fabric. Suzanne scoffs, “go on, then.”

He retracts his hand, lingering beside you as he lets out a long exhale. He glares over your head at his wife. He storms down the length of the table, shifting your chair as he pushes off it. He grabs Suzanne by her throat and she spits in his face.

“Do not call me impotent,” he barks, “you nasty woman.” He pushes her against the table as she clutches his wrist, her chin tilted up defiantly. “You are nothing more than a used whore and I should send you to the wall to hang. An unwoman dressed in blue–”

“Fuck yourself,” she snips, shocking you.

He shoves her down so her shoulders hit the table and her legs hang off awkwardly. He keeps her pinned with his arm across her neck as she squirms. He reaches down to yank up her dress, a hint of her white shift flapping up with the folds. Her legs are exposed as he pushes them apart with his own.

You stand without a thought. Horrified. You have the instinct to stop him but stop yourself. You grip the edge of the table and look at the floor as you hear the soft clink of his buckle beneath his growling.

“Stupid bitch, I’ll show you soft,” he snarls.

You take a step back, your sole scuffing loudly. 

“Stay,” he demands, “watch.”

You blink and fold your hands tight. You make yourself look at him, his hand moving between his legs as he plays with himself, the sight of the motion blocked by Suzanne’s rumpled skirts. He meets your gaze and snickers.

“”Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—’” He grunts as he moves his feet and brings himself closer to his wife, “‘put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.’”

The verse rings in your ears as he thrusts, jerking Suzanne on the table as she hisses between her teeth. You close your eyes and the Commander growls again.

“Open your eyes or I will cut one out,” he barks above the scrape of the table legs, “my wife is teaching you a lesson. So take it well, handmaid.”

[sophie1973]

I am yours, you are mine (let's not fuck around)

Can be read HERE or under the cut

The girl looks familiar, but Henry can't place where he's seen her before..

It doesn't matter. He only cares because Alex has been engrossed in conversation with her for the past 15 minutes, all smiles, warm eyes, and subtle touches, and Henry's heart aches with a mix of envy and resentment.

He’s acutely aware that he has no right to feel this way, yet jealousy churns within him, deep and unsettling.

The thing is, it has been a bit weird between them since New Year’s Eve.

Since what was meant to be a chaste New Year’s Eve peck on the lips when the clock struck midnight had unexpectedly transformed into a ten-minute, full-blown make-out session.

Which had been brushed under the non-existent carpet in their shared flat on January 1 as if nothing significant had happened and blamed on the alcohol and the fact that they had both been painfully single for a while. And now Henry was supposed to go on with his life as if his best friend hadn’t shoved his tongue down his throat - a very skillful tongue, by the way. 10/10. No notes.

It’s one thing to quietly pine for your best friend, keeping your feelings hidden for the sake of the friendship. It’s another thing entirely to know firsthand what that best friend can do with his mouth and not be able to enjoy it on a regular basis. They had always been very affectionate, never thinking twice before hugging or cuddling on the couch during movie nights. Alex had come to terms with his sexuality a few years ago, before meeting Henry, so Henry had accepted that even if Alex was attracted to men, he wasn’t attracted to him. As long as he had Alex in his life, he was content with that.

But Alex, tonight, is a frustratingly perfect sight. Clad in black jeans and a white henley, his curls in charming disarray, he has the girl completely captivated. Henry can’t really blame her.

“Pretty sure this girl has done nothing to you, so why the glaring?” A voice resonates in his ear, and he turns around to meet the knowing smirk of his other best mate, Pez.

“I do not glare,” he instinctively denies, even though he knows it’s useless. Pez reads him like an open book and has figured out his feelings for Alex long ago.

“Could have fooled me,” Pez mutters, and Henry can’t help himself.

“Who is she? She looks familiar. Do you know her?”

Percy shoots him such a disbelieving look that Henry gets slightly defensive. “What?”

His friend lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I always brag about how smart my best mate is, and then you go and remind me how much of an oblivious sod you are as well sometimes.” It’s said with a gentle pat on his shoulder and in such an affectionate tone that Henry can’t get mad and snorts instead.

“Well, enlighten me, then.”

“Her name is Georgia. She’s a law student, hence how she knows our dear Alexander, and she’s from Australia.”

Henry frowns. “Ok, that doesn’t ring any bell.” 

“I also call her the Australian Henry,” Pez whispers conspiratorially.

“What?”

“Just look at her, darling.”

Following Pez's advice, Henry observes Georgia again, scrutinizing her sandy blond hair, porcelain complexion, blue eyes, and full lips stretched over a bright, gummy smile. She’s dressed in a soft blue sweater and a denim skirt. It strikes him then, noticing his own attire mirroring hers with a similar blue jumper and jeans.

I call her the Australian Henry.

Oh. Oh.

“No wonder our dear Alex seems so smitten,” Percy adds with a nod to the young student who’s currently laughing out loud at whatever Georgia told him.

Oh great, she’s funny too. Alex only ever laughs like that when Henry uses his sarcastic wits and…

The realization of what Pez implies hits him like a freight train, and he stumbles slightly backward, his hand gripping the table behind him to find some balance.

“And at last I see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted…” Pez starts singing, his face full of glee.

“I…No, it’s not…I mean…how…” Henry stammers, struggling to process the revelation. His brain refuses to cooperate, overwhelmed by the enormity of what this could mean. So he follows his first instinct: flee from the potential threat (the threat being, in this case, a broken heart. He doesn’t precisely fancy the idea.)

“It’s just a coincidence,” he asserts firmly. 

Pez's eyes roll with such intensity that Henry fears they might become permanently lodged in their sockets.

“Look, Hazza, We’re in America, so Land of the Free and all that. Do with that information what you will. You can keep your pretty head in the sand or decide Alex is worth taking a leap of faith. Your move, darling. Toodles!”

Henry shakes his head, feeling a blend of exasperation and fondness as he watches Percy depart. Deciding he needs a distraction from his preoccupation with Alex and the charming Australian, he heads to get another drink. Taking a sip, he winces at the overly sweet taste of the punch.

He should have stuck with his usual gin and tonic.

"Is it really that bad?"

Henry smiles as his classmate, Oliver, approaches and gestures at the drink. 

"Worse," he chuckles, setting the cup on a nearby table. Henry remembers Oliver is a member of the frat house hosting the party. He's also attractive, with brown hair, green eyes, and a kind smile. They'd met a few times, chatted after class or on campus, and exchanged notes, but they'd never really talked in a more casual setting.

"Where’s your boyfriend?"

"My... Oh, you mean Alex? He’s not my boyfriend—just my best mate. And roommate as well."

Something shifts in Oliver’s expression.

"Uh, I always thought, with how he looks at you..." Oliver's voice trails off, a hint of uncertainty in his tone as he steps closer. “Good to know I was wrong.”

Henry's brows knit together in confusion. "The way he looks at me?"

"Hey, I've only seen the two of you together a few times, so I just assumed… I'm happy to hear he’s not, though." Oliver's smile widens, his chuckle growing bolder. "I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while, but… So, how about we grab coffee sometime?"

Henry’s brain screeches to a halt for the second time that night. He really hopes this constant mental whiplash doesn’t leave him with permanent brain damage.

Amidst the turmoil in his mind, two distinct facts pierce through :  First, two different people have hinted at the possibility of Alex harboring a crush and/or deeper feelings for him. Second, Oliver's sudden proposition has caught him completely off guard.

"Actually, I drink tea," he responds a bit awkwardly. Oliver laughs as if Henry has said the most amusing thing.

It’s endearing.

Henry can't find a reason to say no. Yes, he knows he should consider what Percy and even Oliver said about Alex. Still, a part of him vehemently refuses to believe there’s any real possibility of it being true. That part of him always wins because hope often brings with it the risk of crushing disappointment.

Besides, Alex is a big boy. If— and that’s a big if— he really has feelings for Henry, surely he would mention it, right?

Henry opens his mouth, ready to accept Oliver’s offer.

"Ah, there you are!"

Both of them turn as Alex joins them, a broad grin on his face but an unusual glint in his whisky-colored eyes. He extends a hand towards Oliver. 

“Alex,” he says, his voice casual, carrying an undercurrent of something. 

“Oliver. We’ve met a few times, though.”

Alex doesn’t bother to reply, instead draping an arm around Henry's shoulder, a gesture he’s done countless times before. Still, this time, it feels different, especially when he says in that particular voice, “I was wondering where you disappeared to, Baby.”

Henry curses internally. Alex is always generous with terms of endearment, often calling people ‘sweetheart,’ but ‘Baby’ is reserved solely for Henry. And he both hates and adores how it turns his spine into jelly every single time.

But something about Alex’s sudden, timely appearance and his cheerfulness, which seems a bit too forced, doesn’t sit right with Henry.

He stiffens and crosses his arms. “I’ve been here the whole time,” he says a bit curtly, biting his lip to stop himself from mentioning that Alex had been talking to Georgia the entire time and didn’t seem to be looking for him very hard.

Alex’s smile fades slightly as he senses the shift in Henry’s demeanor, giving him a thoughtful look.

Leaning towards Oliver, Alex whispers a few words in his ear. To Henry’s utter astonishment, Oliver nods and says, “Of course, I understand, man,” and without sparing a second glance at Henry, he walks away, leaving the two of them alone.

What in the Bloody Hell...?

“What just happened?”

“He just wanted to fuck you.”

“He was asking me out for coffee, and I was about to say yes.”

Alex shrugs. “Coffee, fucking, same difference.”

Henry feels his irritation bubbling to the surface. Who does Alex think he is, flirting with some random girl, then pulling some ridiculous territorial stunt the minute he sees Henry talking to someone else?

“You don’t even know him. He’s one of the kindest guys I know,” Henry argues.

Alex's expression softens to something almost like pity, and seriously, what the fuck?

"Oh, Hen. Do you know that 32% of those 'nice guys' turn out to be serial killers?" Alex retorts.

Henry sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to rein in his aggravation. “You’re making that up.”

“Not even close. Law student, remember? I know my statistics. And as your best friend, I have to make sure you don’t end up on the ten o’clock news.”

Henry closes his eyes, torn between the urge to laugh at the absurdity of their conversation and to cry in frustration because, really, what is Alex’s deal?

“Whatever you say, Alex. I’m going home.”

He strides away without glancing back, done with the maze of mixed signals for tonight. As he steps out of the house and reaches for his phone to call a taxi, Alex catches up to him.

“Wait, you’re actually leaving?”

Henry ignores him. He just told him he was leaving; he sees no point in repeating himself.

“What did I do?” Alex asks, his voice tinged with genuine confusion and that Henry can’t ignore.

“I was having a nice chat with a guy - who happens to be a classmate, by the way - and you barged in and chased him away for no bloody reason!” 

“I told you…”

Anger rises back up in Henry’s throat, and he steps closer. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Alex, do not give me that serial killer bullshit again. It makes no sense, and you know it. Go back to Georgia,” he spats. It’s probably a bit too spiteful, but he doesn’t really care at this point.

Alex frowns. “The State?” he asks with a look of bewilderment. “Why would I go there?”

“Oh my God. Not the State! The girl you’ve been talking to all evening. Because no one was rude enough to interrupt your conversation ?”

“Oh! She left with her boyfriend. I don’t think he would appreciate it if I tagged along.”

Henry’s anger falters at this tidbit of information. Not that it changes anything. So he desperately focuses back on his phone, still trying to call that stupid taxi.

“Hen, please,” Alex says, soft contrition coloring his voice. Henry hates himself a little for how those words tug at his heart, softening his ire. Staying mad at Alex for any significant length of time seems like an impossible task.

That part of his brain, the one that's hopelessly, irrevocably in love with his best mate, makes it all the more challenging. It’s maddening and endearing all at once.

Even more so when Alex catches one of his hands, his thumb caressing his knuckles in a soothing gesture and remorse evident in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep like this. I’m a fucking moron. But he was not good enough for you.”

There’s a tense silence for a moment, and then Henry can’t help but soften at his earnestness, even if he’s still confused. 

"How could you possibly know that? You barely talked to him for two minutes."

I don’t need to know him. I know you. You would be bored out of your fucking mind after twenty minutes.”

Henry sighs, turning his head away so Alex doesn’t see his anger dissolving into a reluctant smile he can’t fully suppress. 

“You are such a bloody nuisance,” he mutters, though there is no heat in his words.

“But I’m your nuisance, right?”  

He looks back at Alex, his breath catching in his throat. Beneath the humor in his voice, there is a vulnerability Henry hasn’t heard before - at least not directed at him - and something in his gaze is troubling and intoxicating.

Something in Henry snaps. Fueled by a sudden, almost reckless determination, he takes a leap of faith, hoping Alex will meet him halfway and not let him fall into the abyss.

With one hand firmly on his chest, Henry pushes Alex backward until his back presses against a sturdy tree. Gently cupping the back of Alex's head, he brings their faces closer, halting just as their lips are a mere millimeter apart. He offers Alex a moment to pull away, to say that he doesn’t share the same feelings.

Alex doesn’t. Instead, with a barely audible gasp, he leans forward and closes the distance between them, their lips finally meeting in a soft, tentative kiss at first.

 Henry’s heart races as he deepens the kiss, his hand sliding from Alex's chest to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. Alex responds in kind, his arms encircling Henry's neck as he leans into the kiss, all hesitation melting away. 

The world around them fades into a blur as Alex lets out a soft, needy moan. He pulls Henry impossibly closer; their bodies pressed together so tightly that it feels like their heartbeats merge into one. The kiss grows more intense and desperate as Henry’s hand slides into glossy, brown curls, tugging not so gently, and Alex growls.

“Fuck, baby,” He pants, and if Henry weren’t already half-hard, the urgency in Alex’s voice would have done the trick. “I need you in me like, yesterday.” 

A few whistles snap them back to the present, reminding them they are still in the middle of the street, engaged in something that could get them both arrested for extreme public indecency. Given the unexpected and exciting turn his evening has taken, jail is the last place Henry wants to end up tonight. Not when he has a large, comfortable bed at home where he plans to do very bad, unspeakable things to the gorgeous man still holding him.

“Right. Hold that thought,” Henry says to Alex, stepping back. Alex reluctantly lets him go, his eyes still smoldering with intensity. Henry shifts his attention to his phone's screen, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand instead of the fiery spark in Alex’s gaze.   

“Where’s that taxi?” Alex grumbles, breathless. Henry can’t help but feel a bit smug hearing the strain in his voice. He definitely plans to leave Alex completely speechless soon. Henry knows it's a formidable challenge, but he’s nothing if not determined—especially when it promises plenty of satisfying orgasms.

Obviously, they will need to have a conversation at some point, but Henry can only hope they are on the same page right now. After this night, their friendship will be irreversibly altered, opening up uncharted territory between them. However, something in Alex’s eyes, beyond the raw desire, suggests his feelings run much deeper than mere lust or the chance for a one-night stand.

“I still haven’t called it. I got sidetracked listening to you ramble on about stupid serial killer statistics.”

Alex grins. “Oh yeah, I totally made that up.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “No kidding,” he deadpanned, finally placing his order with a satisfied hum.

Alex, who seems unable to keep his hands to himself - and Henry already knew that, but not to that extent, obviously - comes behind him and wraps his arms around Henry’s waist, trailing his lips on Henry’s throat

“I meant what I said. I was a fucking moron.”

“You’ll hear no argument from me, love,” he replies, laughing at Alex’s indignant ‘Hey!’ but his laugh turns into a gasp when Alex slides a leg between Henry’s, his muscular Lacrosse player thigh pressing against his groin, creating a delicious friction.

Henry whimpers, his head leaning back on Alex’s shoulder as he feels Alex’s hand venture dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans, grazing the soft skin under his sweater. Henry thinks that if the taxi doesn’t arrive in the next two minutes, he will throw years of proper British education and etiquette through the window and have his wicked way with Alex in front of the whole bloody frathouse. 

“I’ve been dreaming of having your dick in my hand, my mouth, and my ass for months, baby,” Alex whispers against his throat, “Can’t blame me for being a little eager.”

“Do you hear me…ah!...complaining?” Henry exhales as he feels Alex’s tongue trace a fiery path on his neck, right at the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

With immense effort, Henry checks his phone and sees that the driver is one minute away. He disentangles himself from Alex, ignoring his protests. It doesn’t seem necessary to put on a show for the driver.

The journey to their flat is brief, filled with shared smiles and knowing glances. They refrain from touching, afraid of scarring the driver if they only lose a fraction of the control they struggle to maintain.

Once in their apartment, though, all bets are off.

The front door is barely shut before Henry shoves Alex against it, their lips crashing together in a searing kiss. His hands slip beneath Alex’s henley, fingers grazing over his stomach's firm, soft muscles. Alex emits a shaky groan, and Henry revels in the sound, feeling slightly intoxicated by the power he now holds over the man he has adored from a distance for so long.

Henry steps back, pulling Alex by his waistband while skilfully unbuttoning it, and they make their way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothes behind them until they find themselves naked, standing by Henry’s bed.

Henry’s heart races as he pauses to look into Alex’s eyes, his gaze soft and filled with want. They stand close, skin against skin, the room around them quiet and serene, encapsulating them in a comforting bubble. Henry gently brushes a stray curl from Alex’s forehead, and Alex smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners—an expression that always makes Henry’s breath hitch. Alex wraps an arm around Henry’s waist, his hand cupping Henry’s cheek as they share another kiss, their bodies melding seamlessly together.

"Are you sure?" Henry asks, giving Alex one last chance to change his mind. Truth be told, if Alex does, Henry isn't sure his heart could handle it. Now that he has had a taste of Alex, freely roaming his hands over Alex's gorgeous body, the thought of returning to their previous status quo feels unbearable.

The devoted, warm look in Alex’s eyes reassures him immediately. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, Baby.”

Henry shivers at the pet name because it definitely holds a more profound, intimate meaning now.

Henry takes his hand, and they both kneel on the bed, facing each other. He gasps Alex’s name as his fingers trail down his side before reaching their intended target and wrapping around Henry’s cock, pulling a noise from his chest he’s never heard before. It’s been a while since he had a hand that wasn’t his own, and the fact that it belongs to Alex sends pure electricity throughout his body. Alex grins against Henry’s mouth as he says in a gravelly voice, “I want you to fuck me so hard I have to bite the pillow so nobody hears my screams.”

Henry bites his lip, long, slow swoops of desire curling in his belly. “What if I want to hear you scream?”

Alex smirks. “Well, bring it on, then, Sweetheart. Lube?” 

"Drawer on the right," Henry pants, and Alex reaches toward the nightstand, grabbing the bottle. They don’t mention condoms since they are both clean, and neither had engaged in any encounters since their most recent medical tests.

He hears a soft thud followed by a heartfelt "Shit!" from Alex.

"What?"

"I dropped the bottle."

Alex leaps off the bed, and Henry watches as he disappears, crouching next to it on his knees. "It rolled under," Alex informs him. "I can't find it."

Henry listens to Alex cursing as he fishes under the bed with his arm. Unable to contain his laughter, Henry says, "God, you're a bloody disaster," feeling his heart swell with love for the naked dork next to him.

He’s not letting the night end without professing those words to Alex, consequences be damned.

"You know, there's this thing called a vacuum cleaner, Hen. You've got a whole colony of dust bunnies under here," Alex comments casually, despite them being moments away from a significant shift in their relationship. Henry snorts.

"I'll take your advice under consideration, darling.”

“Aha!” A triumphant shout erupts as Alex reappears, holding the offending bottle. It is indeed covered in dust, as is Alex’s arm and hand.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back,” he says, jogging to the bathroom. Henry hears water running before Alex returns, handing the now-clean bottle to Henry, seated on the bedspread. 

"Thank you, love. Now, on your hands and knees."

Alex grins and eagerly complies. "Bossy."

Henry keeps his expression neutral, raising an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

Alex's grin falters slightly as he gulps. "No."

Henry smirks and pinches one of Alex’s buttocks, making him moan deeply. "Good boy," Henry purrs, the sound sending a thrill through him. He opens the bottle, squeezing some onto his hand. He spreads Alex’s cheeks, bringing a finger to his rim, and rubs the tip softly, almost teasing but not quite.

He’s savoring the moment.

Alex’s breath stutters as he reaches to brace a hand on the headboard, pushing back against Henry’s hand. Henry methodically presses in one finger, then another, maintaining a leisurely pace.

"You can add another, baby, I’m ready," Alex pleads, desperation tinting his voice.

Henry smiles sweetly. "It’s adorable that you think you have a say in this, darling."

"I’m not above begging, you know."

"Then let’s hear it," Henry murmurs. 

Alex shoots him a heated look, a mix of exasperation and desire. "You’re such an asshole."

Still, Henry takes pity on him, adding a third finger and sliding deeper, preparing him, opening him. With the next thrust, Henry finds his prostate, eliciting a cry of pure pleasure from Alex.

"Oh fuck, yes! Right there…Oh, God."

Henry hums, leaning in to kiss Alex’s shoulder. “Henry’s fine.”

Alex huffs. “You’re not as funny as you think, Sweetheart.”

"Good. I wasn't aiming to make you laugh. Didn't someone mention something about screaming my name?" Henry teases.

He senses Alex shivering beneath him, and his stomach flutters at the sultry gaze Alex directs his way from under those fucking eyelashes. He puts a caressing hand on Alex’s buttock, spreading the cheek as he takes his cock in hand, the anticipation of being soon buried into Alex’s heat making his skin tingle.  

"Wait, baby, I want to see you." Alex requests.

Henry retreats, and Alex turns over, lying on his back with his legs spread open, inviting Henry to crawl back over him. They share a tender smile.

"Hi," Henry greets, unable to conceal a gummy smile at the sight of Alex spread eagerly beneath him.

"Hey yourself."

"Are you ready?"

"Do your worst," Alex replies cheekily, making Henry snort.

All traces of humor vanish quickly as Henry slides in, pushing to the hilt in one sleek motion. They both let out a keening moan. Henry leans in, his tongue tracing Alex’s bottom lip, and Alex lifts his head, pressing his mouth to Henry’s in a hungry kiss. 

Henry withdraws almost entirely before smoothly reentering with a single deliberate motion, drawing a groan from deep in his throat that echoes Alex’s gasp at the friction. Alex digs his heels into Henry's lower back, arching up to meet his every thrust, ensuring their bodies remain intimately connected. Henry responds with a throaty whimper as Alex's movements drive him in deeper. The slow thrusts, paired with Alex’s cock trapped between their bodies, create intense pressure.

“Fuck, Hen, I’m going to—” Alex's voice cracks as he nears his peak, the overwhelming sensation turning his cry into a sob. Henry slides a hand between them to stroke him through it, murmuring praise against Alex’s gasping mouth.

“You feel incredible, love,” Henry gasps, his voice thick with emotion.

“I want you to come inside me,” Alex breathes.

Henry’s thrusts intensify, becoming deeper and harder, each thrust driving him closer to the edge. It only takes a few minutes until the heat spirals low in his belly, blood thrumming through his veins. The pleasure that explodes behind his eyes is blinding, a kaleidoscope of sensations so potent and overwhelming that it steals his breath away, 

Henry collapses next to Alex, who instantly turns towards him, draping a leg over Henry’s thighs and an arm across his chest. As they both catch their breath, Henry hopes the wonder in Alex’s eyes mirrors his own. Their fingers intertwine over Henry's chest, and Henry keeps his gaze fixed on Alex, admiring how his eyelashes flutter prettily against his cheeks as he fights to stay awake. An exhale escapes Henry's lips, a contented sound mingling with the heady scents enveloping them— the musk of sweat, the lingering trace of their lovemaking, and that indescribable, intoxicating essence uniquely Alex.

For a few minutes, they doze off, basking in the afterglow, their breath synchronizing until the stickiness on Henry’s stomach becomes uncomfortable. Henry softly presses a kiss to Alex’s forehead and gently caresses his arm to rouse him. “We should clean up, love.”

“M’comfy,” Alex mumbles, shifting his leg and brushing against Henry’s cock, which, to Henry’s surprise, twitches with interest.

"Seems someone is eager for another round," Alex teases playfully, one eye cracking open to reveal a mischievous glint.

"Do you think there's enough space for both of us in the shower?" Henry quips, raising an eyebrow as amusement dances in Alex's gaze.  He’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

Alex's eyes light up with mischief. "Only one way to find out," he declares, seizing Henry’s hand and tugging him toward the bathroom.

They step into the bathroom, and soon, the sound of rushing water fills the air. They both manage to squeeze into the surprisingly spacious shower, warm water cascading over their bodies.

Henry wraps his arms around Alex, pulling him close until they are pressed together under the spray. "Looks like I was right," Henry murmurs, his voice low and playful.

Alex grins, tracing a finger along Henry's jawline. "You're right more often than I like to admit," he teases, tipping his head back to let the water soak his hair.

With a sly smile, Henry leans in, capturing Alex's lips in a slow, passionate kiss before Alex falls on his knees, taking his sweet, sweet time to take Henry apart, and Henry sighs blissfully, his heart swelling with love at the care and devotion in Alex’s every touch. 

Once done with the shower and having dried themselves, Henry climbs back on the bed, ready for a cuddling session with his boyfriend - yes, he’s aware they haven’t labeled it yet or even properly talked. Still, to be honest, he’s already planning his proposal in his head. He’s that far gone, and he is absolutely fine with it.

But Alex doesn’t follow him, lingering in all his naked glory next to the bed, a look of uncertainty on his face, and Henry’s heart stops for a second.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a tremor in his voice, suddenly wary of what Alex might say, of having completely misread what happened between them.

“Should I…I mean…Do you want me to go back to my room?” Alex asks tentatively, his vulnerability tugging at Henry's heartstrings.

Henry’s heart breaks a little because he’s familiar with Alex’s dating history, his struggle with his ADHD, and how it has affected most of his relationships. His partners deemed him ‘too much’ after a few weeks, sometimes even a few days. The irony is that what those people saw as flaws are some of the numerous reasons why Henry loves Alex so deeply.

He’s not too much. He’s absolutely perfect. And Henry will make sure that Alex hears it every day for the rest of their lives.

“What I want is for you to bring your gorgeous ass back to bed with me and not go back to your room tonight. Or ever, preferably.”

Relief floods Alex's features, his lips curling into a smile as he swiftly joins Henry under the covers. Their bodies fit together seamlessly like puzzle pieces, seeking closeness and comfort. Henry's hand glides in lazy patterns over Alex's back as they nestle together, Alex nuzzling his nose against Henry's neck, peppering soft kisses along his throat.

“Hen?” Alex’s voice breaks the silence.

“Mmmh?”

“Just to put it out there…” Alex's voice wavers with a mix of nerves and sincerity. 

Encouraged by Henry's loving smile, Alex takes a deep breath, his eyes fixed on Henry with intent. A slow smile spreads across his face as if reaching a decision.

“I love you.”

Henry’s smile matches his own, and a happy laugh bubbles out of his chest. Leave it to Alex to pour out grand declarations immediately after their first night together. Henry is so in love with this man that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“I love you too, darling,” he whispers against Alex’s lips.

They will have time tomorrow to have a deeper conversation, but at this moment, as their mouths come together in a fervent kiss, no other words are necessary.

.

[chrattsturniololover]

The pool chair

Warnings: smut, face riding, fingering, oral (male and female), p in v, dirty talk

You and Chris have been enemies since you could remember. He was attending a college party held for all grades, until his and your paths crossed. You had just gotten a glass of water and accidentally bumped into him, spilling the water onto his shirt. He looked at you with a piercing glare before speaking in an annoyed tone

"That's it" He picked you up over his shoulder, carrying you to the college pool

“Chris no! Chris stop” you say, trying to escape his arms. He tightened his grip, ignoring your pleas as he carried you into the dimly lit pool area. The sound of echoing music and laughter from the party faded into the background.

"You think you're so funny, huh?" He tossed you into the cool water with a splash, his eyes never leaving yours. You got out of the pool angrily, your clothes clinging to your body. Chris’s gaze roamed over your drenched form, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Damn, that's a sight I didn't expect to see." He stepped closer, his tall frame looming over you, the air thick with tension. "Looks like you're in a bit of a tight spot now, aren't you?"

“Why. Did you expect me to be some fat or scrawny kid?” You ask, crossing your arms. His smirk grew wider.

“Nah, not at all. You’ve got a decent set of curves on you.” His eyes drifted to your breasts, visible through the clinging fabric. “But I gotta say, those clothes aren’t doing you any favors sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes. He chuckled, the sound low and husky. "What, not impressed by my charming wit?" He stepped even closer, until you could feel the heat of his body. "Maybe I can do better." His hand reached out, fingers tracing the wet fabric along your collarbone. You went to speak but your breath hitched as his fingers traced your collarbone. His eyes locked onto yours, a glint of satisfaction in them as he noticed your reaction. "See? That's more like it." His touch moved lower, tracing the curve of your breast. "You're not as tough as you pretend to be, are you?"

“What do you want” you say. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

"I think you know exactly what I want." His hand slipped beneath the neckline of your shirt, fingers brushing against your skin. "But if you want me to spell it out..." He pulled back slightly, his gaze intense. "I want to see if those pretty lips of yours taste as sweet as they look."

“No w-“. He cut you off with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours in a rough, demanding press. His tongue pushed past your lips, exploring the warm interior of your mouth.

"Shh," *he murmured against your mouth between kisses. "Let me show you what you're really made for." You tried to pull away from him but you failed miserably and melted into the kiss. He set you down on a chair by the pool, his hands lingering on your thighs as he looked down at you with a predatory gleam in his eye. "Now, where were we?" He stepped back, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt, slowly peeling it off to reveal his chiseled torso."I think it's time we even the playing field a bit." Chris stripped the rest of the way. He gripped his cock with a firm hand, stroking it slowly as he watched your reaction. "You like what you see?" His voice was low and rough, laced with a hint of challenge. "Go on, baby, tell me how much you want it." He pumped his shaft faster, the precum glistening at the tip.

“Chris please.”

“Please what babe”

“please.. fuck me already” A feral grin spread across his face at your words, his eyes burning with lust.

“Oh, I'll fuck you so hard, you'll forget your own name. Get on your knees, sweetheart." He commanded, his voice dripping with dominance. "Time to put that pretty mouth to good use." You do as he says and lower down onto his knees. You wrap your hand around his base. He groaned in pleasure as you took him into your mouth, your warm, wet heat enveloping his cock. "Fuck yeah, just like that," he muttered, his hands tangling in your hair. "Take it all, baby." He began to thrust gently, setting a slow, steady rhythm that soon increased in tempo as his control slipped. You couldn’t control the moan that slipped passed your lips. You moaned against him. He cursed under his breath, his hips bucking harder as the vibrations of your moan sent jolts of pleasure through him. "Damn, you're gonna be the death of me," he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening. "Gonna make me blow my load down your throat if you keep that up." His entire body shuddered at your touch, his cock twitching in your mouth. "Shit, that's... fuck, just like that," he panted, his head thrown back in pleasure. "Gonna make me cum so hard, baby, you ready for it?" His thrusts became erratic, the coil of tension inside him wound tight. With a final, harsh thrust, he came, his hot seen pulsing into your mouth. He collapsed back against the chair, chest heaving, his spent cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. "Holy shit, baby," he panted, a look of awe on his face. "You're incredible." He pulled you up for a bruising kiss, his tongue dominating your mouth as his hands roamed your body possessively. "Mine," he growled against your lips. "You're all mine now." Chris started to strip your clothes away quickly. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your bare body, his gaze lingering on your stiff nipples and glistening pussy. "Fuck, look at you," he rasped, his voice thick with lust. "So fucking wet for me already, aren't you?" He reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate skin of your inner thigh, inching closer to your aching core. "Gonna make you come so hard, baby. Gonna fill you up until you can't take anymore." His filthy words continued to pour from his mouth like a dark, intoxicating stream, each one a promise of pleasure and pain. "I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else, sweetheart. Make you crave only my touch, my cock, my cum. You're my dirty little slut, and I'm gonna use you every way I can think of until you're screaming my name." His fingers finally reached your dripping heat, two digits sinking into your folds without preamble. "So fucking tight, baby. Gonna stretch you out, make you fit only me.” He explored your slick folds with a rough, teasing touch, his fingers circling your clit before delving deeper to stroke your inner walls. "Fuck, you're soaked," he groaned, his thumb applying pressure to your swollen nub. "Gonna make you cum all over my hand, baby. Soak me with it." His other hand gripped your hip, pulling you harder against him as he continued to finger you, his pace increasing with each passing second. As you straddled his lap, he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as you ground your pussy against his hand. "That's it, baby, ride it," he grunted, his fingers pumping into you at a punishing pace. "Take what you need, use my hand like it's my cock." He leaned forward, his mouth finding the side of your neck, biting and sucking as he worked you closer to the edge. "Cum for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you shake apart." As your body seized up in pleasure, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers, he groaned in satisfaction. "That's it, baby, cum for me," he encouraged, his thumb keeping pressure on your throbbing clit as he milked your orgasm for all it was worth. “So fucking beautiful, watching you fall apart." He continued to rub slow, gentle circles over your sensitive flesh, helping you ride out the aftershocks. "You did so good, sweetheart. Now turn around and sit on my face, it's my turn to taste you”

His eyes flashed with lust as you settled onto his face, his nose buried in your dripping heat. "Fuck yeah, just like that," he growled, his tongue lashing out to taste your juices. "Eat you up, baby, drink down all that sweet nectar." He gripped your hips, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue thrusting up to fuck your pussy in time with your grinding hips. "Mmmph, you taste incredible, so fucking perfect," he moaned against you, sending vibrations through your body as he sucked on your clit. His mouth sealed around your clit, sucking hard as his tongue continued to plunder your pussy, the vibrations and pressure sending you hurtling towards another climax. "Come on, baby, give it to me," he urged against your flesh, his fingers digging into your ass as he held you tight. "Cum all over my face, drench me with your sweetness." His words were muffled but filled with desperation, his own need for release growing with each passing second. As your orgasm crashed over you, your juices gushing onto his face and tongue, Nick's eyes rolled back in bliss. He moaned around your clit, the sound muffled but intense, as he lapped up every drop of your release. His own cock twitched and pulsed against his stomach, straining for freedom from the confines of his jeans.

As the aftershocks faded, he pulled back, his face glistening with your cum, his breathing ragged. "Fucking hell, baby," he panted, his voice thick with desire. He gripped your hips, lifting you off his face and setting you aside. With a swift motion, he grabbed his cock, stroking it a few times before positioning himself between your thighs. He teased your entrance.

“Please” His eyes locked onto yours, dark with primal need, as he slowly pushed forward, inching his thick shaft into your welcoming heat. "Please what, baby?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "Please fuck you senseless? Please make you mine in every way possible?" With a sudden surge, he buried himself to the hilt, a guttural groan tearing from his throat at the sensation of your tight walls clenching around him.

He paused, savoring the feeling for a moment before withdrawing until just the tip remained inside, then thrusting back in hard. "Fuck, you're so tight," he gritted out, setting a relentless pace. "Gonna fill you up, make you take every last drop." His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging in as he pistoned into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. His grip on your hips tightened as he picked up speed, the force of his thrusts making your body bounce on the chair. "That's right, baby, take it," he growled, his eyes burning into yours. "Take every inch of my cock, let me stretch you wide open." He reached down to circle your clit with his thumb, the added stimulation making your moans grow louder and more desperate.

Leaning down, he captured one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking hard as he continued to pound into you, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. "Gonna make you mine, completely and utterly," he vowed, his voice muffled against your breast. "No one else will ever touch you like this, understand?" He bit down lightly, a warning and a promise all at once, before soothing the sting with a lick. "Now come for me again, sweetheart. Cum on my cock like the good little slut you are."

************************************************* should I do a part two???

DID NOT PROOFREAD!!

So there’s prob typos somewhere.