#'do the world a favour. pull your lip over your head and swallow.' still makes me laugh

[old-man-hell]

not beating the allegations by watching 90s comedy films featuring two old men on the plane.

[webism]

KINKTOBER DAY ONE: degradation with sub!gojo

kinktober masterlist

The strongest, the fastest, the greatest.

Satoru Gojo knows that he is all of those things—he's told it every day. People dote on him, idolise him, praise him like he's holy—and lavish worship can only go so far before it starts to feel hollow.

Satoru likes being loved, don't get him wrong, he revels in the praise he gets. To know he's so admired, such an effigy of power, is intoxicating. He's constantly in a state of egotistical bliss—which is why it's so rejuvenating when you take him down a notch.

Because as strong and tireless as he is in the real world, your Toru is the opposite in the bedroom. It's the place he gets to relax, to melt, and he takes full advantage of shedding the title of strongest, even if only for a night at a time—because god does the way your chiding roll from your lips turn him on.

You can't help but smile at the beautiful blush that dusts his cheeks, it matches the pink tip of his throbbing cock that pulses in your hand. His hair, soft and lovely, rests in a mess against the pillows as you stroke him lazily, sitting on his thighs, lips curled into the wickedest of grins. He frowns, whiney pleas escaping form his throat.

"Please, just fuck me," he's so hard it hurts, and the delicate stroke of your fists over his cock isn't enough. He needs more of you, he needs all of you.

But you just hum, "so needy. This isn't good enough for you, Toru? You think you're worth my time, honey?"

Honey. So sweet in comparison to the sickly tone you use with him. He's not worthy, not of someone like you, and the suggestion makes his hips buck. "Please," he bites.

"Fucking desperate," you let go of his cock entirely and instead ghost a nail from his base to the tip. He gasps, face scrunching up, "you know you're pathetic, right baby? What's all this about you being the strongest—you're barely holding yourself together."

A pause. Satoru swallows. His dick twitches, his cock growing thicker and harder than he thinks it ever has been. "Please, you're… too much," it comes out hoarsely. He feels pathetic and small as he begs, but you ignore him, fingers still circling his sensitive head until it throbs painfully.

"What do you want to hear?" You purr, leaning down to press a kiss to his tip. "That you're being so good for me? Because you really aren't, Toru—not until you break for me. C'mon, baby, I know you, what you are."

You reposition yourself to sit over his cock, lining him up with yourself, smiling at the ay he squeezes his eyes shut in carnal need. You lean forward a little—enough to emphasise your words—"you're my Satoru, who needs to get fucked like the desperate whore he is."

And as you seat yourself on his cock, not bothering to hide just how blissful the stretch of his overbearing size makes you feel, Gojo swears he could cry. You're right, he is desperate, a whore—achy and teary-eyed and already close to cumming with just how good you feel wrapped around him.

"Not without permission," you read the tremble of his lips. Your hips roll against his, the drag and pull of his cock inside of you enough to drive the poor man crazy. "What do you think the masses would think if they saw you like this, huh? All dumb for me, Satoru Gojo—my favourite toy. You think they'd still think you're the strongest, baby?"

"Mm, fuck," his tongue near lolls out of his mouth at your words, you can feel him twitch inside of you. "Y—y…"

"Too stupid to even use your words huh? Can't even get a decent ride out of you. Look at you, I know you're close—can't hide from me."

He's gone red in the face, and avoids the urge to hide behind his hands in favour of meeting your gaze with his beautiful blues. Glossy and pooling with lust, he looks at you like you're the god he is to worship. He wonders how anyone can think he is worthy of praise when you're right there—god, he'd lay himself down for you before any of them could even think to. He's got no choice but to accept your approval though, and if it'll get you to keep fucking him, he'll be grateful for anything.

It's too much for the both of you to handle. Your own orgasm crests just as you think Satoru is going to unravel, and you place a finger in the middle of his toned chest to ground him. "Beg me."

"Ple—"

"No," you shake your head, trying to keep your breath in check as you quicken the pace of your rolling hips. "Thank me, for giving you so much already—more than you deserve. Thank me properly and you can cum."

He doesn't hesitate, he's beyond devoted to you—if he could thank you until the end of time he would. "Thank you," he says softly, voice thick with relief. You feel him shudder underneath you, a few more thrusts of your hips and he'll come undone. "Fuck, thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou, I love you, god I love you."

"Prove it," a moan breaks through your sharp words. "Cum with me, Toru."

Your name tumbles from his mouth like a prayer, raw and desperate, and he gives a shaky nod. You clench around him as you allow yourself to finish, and the sight of your orgasm spurs Satoru on. As his climax crescendos and his body jerks beneath you, he's sure he can never look away from how beautiful you are in your release despite the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and bathe in the overwhelming pleasure that washes over him—nirvana.

You collapse atop him, panting. You lie there while your muscles unwind, waiting for you heart to calm and your lungs to expand enough for your breath to steady. Once Satoru has finished jerking his hips up into yours, and he starts to come back down to earth, you push yourself up to hover over him again. The stern look that had been in your eyes is gone, and replaced with a gentle softness he knows all too well—he replicates your smile with his own.

"Good?" He raises his eyebrows, ready for the onslaught of love you tend to give him after sex like this.

"Perfect," you hum and lean down to kiss the tip of his nose. "You are perfect."

"And desperate," he coos, reaching up to wrap his arms around your waist.

You nod, a smile pulling at your lips. "Yeah—that too."

tags are in the comments, because tumblr is an opp!

[luvrodite]

OCTOBER 28: IF I CAN'T HAVE YOU BABY (NO ONE ELSE IN THIS WORLD CAN) JASON TODD (3.3K)

kinktober prompt: overstimulation | kinktober masterlist

synopsis. jason doesn't seem to understand just how attractive he is, so it falls to you to make sure he knows who he belongs to.

cw: f!reader, edging, overstimulation, oral sex (m! receiving), piv sex, public sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk, dom!reader, minor begging, switchy jason, possessive reader minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact you will be blocked

You leave Jason’s side for one brief moment–the host of the party comes up to where you’re standing in the kitchen, asking for a favour as more and more people start arriving and you excuse yourself from his arms with a playful wink. 

“We need to go on a drinks run,” she lets you know, running a hand through her hair, and you giggle when it moves away from her shoulder, exposing the spot on her neck to you. She grins, her gaze cutting across the room to find the perpetrator, a tall, brown skinned boy who, judging by the way he’s looking at her, is eagerly waiting for her to return to him. “Can you move your car for a sec? Sorry, I didn’t think I’d need to use the car tonight.”

Your eyes widen, shaking your head. “Oh! Yeah, no, of course.”

It’s easy enough to pull out of the driveway, Jason’s keys still in your purse from where he’d slipped them earlier but finding a spot on the crowded suburban street is difficult, and by the time you return to the house, you’re impatient to get back to Jason’s side.

It had taken a monumental effort on your part to even get him here, tonight, after the week the both of you had had, and you weren’t sure he’d be pleased at being left alone for too long. He’d only started to loosen up a little when you’d been called away, eyes slipping into a half lidded gaze that warmed you right down to your toes, hands possessively skimming the too tiny skirt you’d zipped yourself into. 

A low bass reverberates through the walls when you enter, thumping loud enough that you feel it as you make your way across the floor, crawling up from the ground and settling in your veins. All around you, bodies are bathed in a soft blue and purple glow, glitter refracting off exposed collars and arms. Your own wrists twinkle with the residue as you bump into girls who giggle out drunken apologies, and you can’t help but smile. 

Still, you weave your way through the packed first floor to the back of the house, where the crowd thins and tapers off. Only a few people mill about in the kitchen, and surprisingly, your boyfriend isn’t one of them. 

You stop short in the entrance to the kitchen, sweeping across the space to make sure you haven’t missed him, but sure enough, not a single one bears any resemblance to your six foot something man. 

“I think he went to the bathroom!” one of the guys nearby says, who’d been talking to Jason when you’d last seen him, and you shoot him a grateful smile before spinning on your heel. 

You go no further than the foyer, about to climb the staircase, when your gaze pulls back into the living room and–

There he is. Standing at the far edge of the room, pouring himself a drink, bathed in bright violet and indigo, is Jason. You admire the lines of his face, lips shiny from the drink in his hands and catching the light. 

As though tugged forward by some invisible thread, your feet propel forward of their own conviction, and you’re pushing through the throng again, swallowed by the sea of bodies but your gaze remains on the man ahead.

Even beneath the jacket he dons, the white t-shirt is tight around his chest and you stare shamelessly, flames sparking low in the pit of your stomach when you catch a glimpse of the chain around his neck, silver glittering low in the light as he shifts, tucked into the collar where its pendant remains unseen. 

You reach the edges of the crowd and your steps slow as you approach him, blood icing over when you take in the girl he’s talking to. Reaching out, you murmur his name.

It mollifies you that he hears you immediately, head snapping your way and eyes lighting in quiet pleasure. 

“Sweetheart.” He curls an arm around your waist unthinkingly and you settle into his side, offering the girl–still unnamed–a quick smile. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry,” you reply, peering into the cup in his hand. “Had to move the car, and it took forever to find somewhere to park. What’s in this?”

“Just juice–that was mine,” he chides, when you finish the rest of it off. “Nice, baby. Really nice.”

“You’re not drinking tonight?”

It takes you a moment to realise the question is addressed to you, Jason’s companion looking at you expectantly and you startle, jumping to answer. 

“Sorry, yeah, I’ve got something tomorrow, so…” you hold the cup up by way of explanation, and she nods, face breaking out into an understanding grin.

She’s pretty, with sleek dark hair and eyes that are curtained by a set of thick, full lashes. You feel a little silly, when she smiles at you so nicely, for acting so childishly. She doesn’t seem to have noticed your little pout, though, or if she has she doesn’t let on, tucking a lock of hair behind her hair and introducing herself.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” she says, and you shake your head in agreement, giving her your name. Her eyes cut back and forth between you and Jason, and then she’s stepping back a little, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. “I’ve gotta get going, but I’ll probably see you guys around.”

“See you,” you echo and behind you Jason mutters the same sentiment, his chin brushing the top of your head. 

You wait until she’s out of sight before turning in his arms, hand coming up to slip under the neck of his top. Immediately he begins to squirm, sputtering protests laced with incredulous laughter. “Sweetheart–what are you–”

Your fingers hook under the chain of his necklace, and tug it out until it lays over his shirt, pendant settling against the white material, the blunt silver of your initial hanging over his heart. Only then do you let go. 

When you go to turn back around, he catches your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours for a moment before his mouth breaks out into the most cocky grin you’ve ever seen, dripping with barely contained arrogance. You know then that you’ve been caught out but you simply raise a brow, keeping your face impassive as best as you can.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he lilts playfully, voice dropping as he bends his head closer, “is something wrong?”

“Everything’s fine, Jason,” you say coolly and if possible, his smirk only widens. 

“You sure, baby?” he prods innocently, tilting his head, puppy-like and mockingly naive. Red skims across his jaw, a slash of light that highlights just how sharp his features are, pretty and inviting. 

“I’m sure.” Flatly voiced, it’s a poor assurance and you both know it. You stare up at him for a moment before announcing, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

His brow quirks at the turn of subject but he bobs his head, setting down his empty cup on the sideboard. “Okay, let’s go.”

You turn on your heel and make your way to the stairs. Jason’s hands remain at your waist, close behind as he follows you through the crowd and up the steps. Most of the party is downstairs, and it grows quieter–only marginally–as you climb to the second floor. The music is muddied through the floorboards, pulsing beneath your shoes with every step.

You leave the door open behind you and moved further into the space. When it clicks shut, you know that Jason has followed you in. Good, you think, and lean over the sink to peer into the mirror. 

For a few beats, there is only silence, words unspoken over the muffled pounding of the music below. You fiddle with your outfit, smoothing out the fabric of your skirt and wiping the corner of your mouth where the lipstick you’d applied has begun to smudge. In the corner of your eye, Jason leans against the door and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. 

You turn to face him, resting against the sink. He straightens under your gaze.

“Do you get off,” you say steadily, voice low, “on provoking me?”

“Provoking you?”

You push off the sink, taking slow steps towards him. Your shoes click against the floor, and downstairs the music shifts to something more upbeat. You watch Jason’s eyes lazily drag down your figure, his throat jumping when you close the small distance between the both of you.

You reach up, hooking your index finger under the chain around his neck. The letter rests against the pad of your finger, the accompanying birthstone twinkling with the movement. 

“It’s funny,” you muse, your tone anything but amused. “You wear this, but it really feels like you don’t know who you belong to. Guess I’m gonna have to show you. Is that what you want?”

When he doesn’t speak, you tug on the chain and he jerks forward, lashes fluttering and pupils expanding as he stares down at you. In one breath, his teal irises are swallowed by onyx pools, lips parting in want.

“Yeah,” he rasps out. “Yeah, that’s what I want.”

You shake your head before pulling him down and slotting your mouth to his. He tastes sweet, the juice lingering on his tongue. Hands wrap around your waist and you press closer, feeling the heat of his chest against yours. The leather of his jacket squeaks with the strain of his arms and you can’t help but smile into his mouth, tongue darting out to lick at the seam of his mouth. 

“Lock the door,” you murmur into his mouth, willing your voice to remain steady but it comes out a little breathless. He huffs out a laugh but reaches behind him nonetheless, twisting the lock with a click that echoes slightly in the tiled bathroom. 

You twist away slightly, redirecting your attention to his jaw and grazing your teeth along the skin there. He shivers, head dropping against the wooden door and providing you better access. Control steadily unravelling, you surge forward to mouth at his neck. He squirms, pitiful little exhales bordering on whines as you lave at the skin, pulling it with your teeth and soothing it over with your tongue. 

“Ah–sweetheart, I–” he stumbles over his words, hands gripping the fabric of your skirt tightly. It bunches up in his fists, and you feel the glide of it as it rides up your thighs. 

Pulling back to survey your work, you grin up at him with spit slicked lips before swatting his hands away and sinking to your knees. Nosing at his thigh, you fumble with the clasp of his belt and undo his jeans hastily, tugging his pants and boxers down in one pull. One of your hands come up to push the hem of his white shirt upwards in silent direction, and obediently he bites the fabric. Unobstructed, his cock presses against his stomach and your smile feels filthy as you shuffle forward.

The tiles beneath your knees are cold and unforgiving, but you ignore them as you take him into your mouth. Above you, there’s a muffle whimper as you suckle on the head, drool gathering on your tongue as you close your lips around him messily. The pearl of spend settles on your tongue, salty and slightly bitter, and you relax your jaw to take more of him in. The muscles in his stomach contract and you hum, directing your eyes upward.

Jason stares down at you through lowered eyelids, lashes casting swooping shadows on his cheeks, breathing ragged. A flush settles over his face, a pink tint painted over his nose and cheeks that ruins any semblance of composure–he groans, eyes squeezing shut and straining open to gaze at you. His hand comes to settle on your cheek, cradling your head with trembling fingers. 

Your own hands part ways, one reaching to his mouth and the other sneaking beneath your parted thighs. Jason spits into your palm, shirt falling back down and you close your fingers around the rest of his cock, squeezing the length your mouth doesn’t take in. He takes the dampened fabric into his free hand, balling the hem against his chest.

“Shit, jus’ like that,” he gasps, fingers against your cheek pressing into the flesh and you hum, bobbing your head.

Between your legs, your underwear has grown slick, thin and flimsy and not meant for much more than pleasing the eye. You tug them to the side, immediately greeted by wet strings that coat your fingers. Your legs ache as you shift, pressing circles into your most sensitive parts as you sloppily mouth at Jason’s cock.

You can barely hear the party over the sound of your heartbeat, thundering in your ears, but a garbled noise reaches you. Jason chokes on a breath, head tipping back and stomach tightening visibly as he approaches his peak. With an amused hum, you pull your mouth off him, hand splaying across his thigh as his orgasm is cut off abruptly. 

He looks down at you, brows pinching confusedly. 

“You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?” you coo. You shake your head, tutting. “What kind of a lesson would that be, baby.”

Your fingers continue to move beneath your skirt and a noise gets caught in your throat. Jazon zeroes in on it, eyes cutting to your legs and groaning.

“Not fair,” he grumbles and you lean against his thigh, cheek pressing against the soft flesh.

“Mm…no I think this is pretty fair,” you murmur, kissing the skin. “I wasn’t the one chatting up some other girl.”

“Wasn’t chatting her up,” he denies, and you shift up again, reaching for his cock. Mouth softly at the head, you swipe your thumb across the slit and watch him shudder.

“No?” you question. He shakes his head.

“Was just talkin’.”

“So I should let you come, huh?” you mumble, taking him into your mouth once more and his hips stutter forward when you suck a little harder. 

“Fuck,” he grouses, breath hitching. “Sweetheart–please.”

You smile as best as you can with the weight of him pressing on your tongue, but don’t answer. Your legs have begun to tremble with the strain of supporting your body, knees aching terribly against the tile, but you take pleasure in watching Jason turn desperate. 

For a little while longer, you continue your ministrations to the sound of Jason’s breathless whispers above you–

“Just like that–fuck, you’re so good–”

One, drawn out, “Ugh, sweetheart.”

You rock your hips against your fingers, your own whimpers muffled and vibrating against his cock. His breaths steadily grow shallower, movements jerky under your mouth and hands until he’s loudly gasping, teetering on the edge of release. Immediately, your lips pop off him, hand falling to your side and he kicks his head back into the door, face crumpling.

You raise on shaky knees, taking the hand he offers you to lean against him for a moment before you pull him with you to the counter, slipping onto the marble. Jason steps between your legs, pushing you against the mirror and you feel a few items clatter to the floor, the sound of hard plastic against tile echoing. You’re uncaring, slipping your fingers into his mouth and using the other hand to guide his along your hips. 

Wordlessly, Jason tugs the hem of your skirt up, tongue soft and wet around your fingers. When you pull them from his mouth, he gives you a dippy grin, swooping down to kiss you messily.

“You think you deserve to cum?” you murmur into his mouth, and he hisses.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he presses, pleading. “Need it so bad.”

You reach between the both of you, circling your hand around his cock once more before guiding him to your entrance, head catching against your clit for a moment and sending a shudder through the both of you before it slips in. Jason sighs, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, angling your mouth to his ear.

“Prove it to me,” you say lowly, “that you deserve it.”

Like a switch has been flipped, he thrusts forward, setting a dizzying pace that makes it difficult for you to stay quiet. Sweat crowds at your temples as he stretches you out and fucks you, hips slapping against yours. 

Downstairs, the party rages on and you’re grateful for the noise when it becomes too hard to hide the whimpers Jason pulls from you, teeth digging into your bottom lip in a weak effort to muffle the cries that slip loose when he angles his hips just so, sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. Your toes curl in your shoes, legs hitched up around his waist. 

“‘S not enough is it,” you find yourself gasping, fingers digging into his back through his shirt. “Gotta–fuck–gotta mark you up so everybody knows you’re–oh–taken!” 

“So. Fuckin’. Jealous.” Jason times his thrusts with each word, sending you arching off the counter. 

“You knew that when you d-decided to date me,” you grit, a few tears slipping from your eyes when you close them. “Knew that when you put that necklace on.”

He grins, a wild thing in the flickering bathroom light, almost feral as he drags his teeth down the side of your neck. “Mm…got me there,” he mumbles into your skin.

You catch his hair in your hand, pulling him away to look at you. 

“Tell me who you belong to,” you say raggedly, “and I’ll let you come.”

His hips stutter and he slots his mouth against yours, the words coming in a rush. “Yours, baby, ‘m all yours,” he gasps. The slick sounds of your sex are loud in the bathroom, Jason’s fingers reaching between the both of you to circle your clit in time with his thrusts. 

You kiss him back, feeling your own thread rapidly unravel with every slap of his hips, growing sloppier as he becomes more desperate. Spit smears across your lips, his tongue licking into your mouth greedily. 

“Come for me, then.”

Jason manages to hold off until you break, sloppily fucking into you until you come with a broken moan, fingernails digging into his shoulder and likely ruining his shirt. He pulls out just as he finishes, coming all over your bare thighs, a wounded sound broken off in his throat. 

You stare dazedly at the streams of white as you come down from your high, cum slipping down your legs slowly while you regain your breath. When you look up, Jason looks just as disheveled, hair mussed and clothes wrinkled from both your hands and his. The bruises on his neck have begun to bloom already, dark marks of purple that litter his skin. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs when he catches you eyeing them, reaching for some toilet paper. You sit on the counter and let him wipe you down, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Getting jealous over some random girl.”

“If I can’t have you…” you trail off in a hum and he rolls his eyes, swooping down to kiss you. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m yours, you freak,” he reminds you, and then catching sight of his reflection in the mirror behind you, he grimaces. He begins to complain, “Fuck, sweetheart, how the fuck ‘m I supposed to get out of here looking like this…look like I got mauled.”

You can only offer an innocent smile when he tugs a hand through his hair.

“You know I’m totally gonna get you back for this, right?”

Tugging down your skirt and fixing your top, you head for the door to unlock it. You look over your shoulder, halfway across the threshold.

“Kind of counting on it, handsome.”

The last thing you see before you slip outside is his slackened jaw.

this is so unedited because i was in a rush and i refuse to go through grammarly or any ai to check it. i'm sorry if there are any spelling errors etc i will hopefully come back to fix them but for now!! here is the 4th and second to last installment of kinktober!!!!

[yuanology]

nanami kento is not the type of man to regret many things. regret will only take root in one's heart and turn them into a rotten monster, one filled with so much sorrow and grief that they are unable to even shift their finger. being a reformed jujutsu sorcerer has taught him such.

so, kento makes a point of always leaving without regrets and with a thousand nightmares saddled upon his shoulders. that's fine. kento is good at coping with nightmares and monsters under the bed.

yet, when you are here, smiling down at him as if you are genuinely so pleased that he's right here rather than a thousand miles away, kento is beginning to realise that he does have regrets, after all.

"come on." your palm presses flat over his cheek, cradling his jaw as if he's something fragile, or perhaps something precious. he doubts it's the latter. the both of you have been tainted with too much hurt to be anything beautiful anymore. "i've missed you so, kento. can't you give me one more tonight?"

kento should know better. after all, this is precisely why he has been avoiding dipping his toe into the jujutsu world. but favours have been demanded, and strings have been pulled, and you have held him too close, and he was back in your bed again, blinking up at you past his tears as if nothing has changed.

"too much," he murmurs. his voice isn't slurred yet, but he knows it'll be soon. kento doesn't like losing control very much for anything, but you're extremely skilled at making him give it all up for you, so he was fighting a losing war from the very start. that's fine, too, he supposes. he misses you too much to hate you for it right now.

your smile turns indulgent, a little condescending, and kento wants to kiss you so, so badly that it hurts.

"you can take it." you lean in, pressing your mouth to the crown of his head, and kento is suddenly twenty years old again with both of your arms thrown around him and your lips pressed right where you're still kissing him now, and he's leaving.

he's here now, and he's taking you the way he's never allowed himself to have you before, and nanami kento has so many regrets and every single fucking one of them wears your name and wields your smile.

"okay." kento forces himself to relax, to let you to sink into him deeper because you're here. you're right here and so is he, and if either of you are going to regret this come morning, then kento will do something worth remembering as well.

"good boy." he earns himself another kiss, to his hairline this time, and your hands tighten around his hips. kento lets out a sigh, sinking into the mattress underneath him, and finally allows himself be swallowed by the weight of your presence caging him in at the moment.

when you start moving, kento's heels dig into the small of your back and an ugly, desperate sound escapes his lips. before his hands can curl around the sheets, you catch them in your own. your fingers are intertwining themselves with his, and kento can only exist with awe as both his hands are pressed against the mattress on either side of his head. you press down on him, using it to anchor yourself as your hips keep fucking into him with steady pressure, and kento realises belatedly that half the reason why you can let go of your grip on his hips is because of his own legs caging your waist.

a soft sound escapes kento's throat at the sight; a whimper, a moan. you catch onto it, smile, and kiss it away as if it's a bruise that needs to be healed.

and, well. kento hadn't realised it until your mouth is sealing over his that it is— he feels raw all over, an exposed nerve flayed open above burning fire, suffocating all over, but he doesn't think he has ever felt more alive than he does in this moment. the sheets stick to his skin, and his hair is plastered against his forehead, and you're still looking at him like he's a miracle.

"kento." your voice is heavy, laden with the sound of your pleasure and exertion. kento has never heard his own name sound that way before: carrying so much weight, so much affection and reverence. it's terrifying.

it's beautiful. he has never felt more beautiful before.

he murmurs your name in return, clenching down on you, and he is entranced by the sight of your fluttering eyelids, of his name once again drifting from your lips in a feathery sigh. kento's own breaths stuttered at the sound, and he wants this all of a sudden. he wants all of it back. he wants you back.

nanami kento does not bode well with regrets, but you are one of the very few things in the world worth regretting. he regrets not listening, not asking you to come with him, not doing every single hideous and ugly thing he had thought of but never dared to commit. he regrets a whole lot of things all of a sudden, and it should feel like a burden but it feels like catharsis instead.

because in spite of his regrets, you are still here. years have passed by, and neither of you had stood still while waiting for the other, but you had still allowed him to carve a tiny, fleeting space into your life. it should be arbitrary, but it isn't. it isn't.

kento's back arches when he comes, fingers squeezing around yours, and his eyes roll back so far into his skull that he swears he can see the gods he doesn't believe in him smile at him. this is your second chance, they all seem to be saying to him, and kento doesn't actually need them to tell him that. he knows, and he intends to seize it.

he feels you fill him up, following his high swiftly after, as he shakes through the aftershocks. your voice reverberates from your chest and over to his ribs, rattling his heart and lungs, and kento can't breathe all of a sudden. i can have this, he thinks, dazed and high off sex and dopamine and revelations. i can have all of this.

you lift yourself up from him slightly, torsos still pressed against each other's comfortably. you're turning your head, likely about to ask him if he's doing okay because you're a good person like that, always have been a good person like that. even in his darkest moments, kento has always known your kindness. in the pits of hell, you are his light. you are what guides him back to port; you are what guides him back here, in hell or in heaven, he doesn't know anymore. this must be hell because it reeks with death, but you are here so it must be heaven. it is neither and it is both and it doesn't matter because kento is here with you and heaven or hell, both can be conquered as long as you were with him.

kento tries his best to live a life without regret and with such in mind, he reaches out and chases your lips with his. "don't go," he murmurs, soft against your lips, soft enough he hopes that you will see enough of it in him to at least hesitate before you go. "stay the night."

he never had to worry. your hand untangles from his, curling around his nape, and then your mouth his slotting over his once again. "okay," you tell him, just as soft. "i'll stay."

[nagito-kissmaeda]

nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart

Summary:

Komaeda is facing away from you, his broad shoulders are hunched uncomfortably and his head is bowed low down. You can see the full length of his spine, bumps protruding out from under his fragile skin. He’s shaking. “Hey…” You start. Komaeda turns his head and peers at you from over his shoulder, “Hello.” AKA: You help Komaeda wash his hair, and then you have sex in the shower

Contains: AFAB Reader, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 4,097 Read on AO3

It’s early evening on Jabberwock island, and you are lounging on the couch, slowly flipping through the page of a book. The story isn't gripping you, but you are too stubborn to return it to the library before you finish it. It is still nice to have something to occupy yourself, because these days you don’t spend much time outside of your cottage. 

The cottage that you share with Komaeda Nagito, specifically. Roomsharing was something negotiated very early after the first set of people exited the Neo-World Program. You were among them, and voted in favour. Everyone was in a dire spot, emotions were high and danger was even higher. Staying in at least groups of two made sure that everyone was safe, or at least safer. So every new person to leave the program was quickly assigned a partner who would live with them in their cottage and follow them around outside. Komaeda Nagito is your current charge, and he doesn’t go outside very often. So even a boring book helps to keep you occupied. Especially when Komaeda is absent. 

He’s in the shower, he’s been in there for a while. You know that he is in even more emotional distress than usual, the hand that had been until recently attached to his left forearm was removed just a few days ago, and while Souda is working on a prosthetic, it’s not going to be ready for at least a month. It’s been hard for him. 

Suddenly, you are pulled from your thoughts by a loud thud, followed by a gasp of shock. The sound of the water muffles almost everything, but you are sure that you can hear sobbing. Returning your book to the coffee table, you slowly make your way to the bathroom door and press your ear against it. Komaeda is crying. It's that horrible sort of crying too, where you are trying so hard to hold it back that your throat begins to ache. 

Trying not to draw attention to it, you gently knock on the door, “Komaeda-san, are you okay? I thought I heard something fall.” He sniffles, “I-I’m fine, you don’t need to worry.” You slump against the door, you should have known that Komaeda wouldn't admit that he needs help so easily. Swallowing, you reply, “I’m here to help, Komaeda-san. Please, let me.” “No I-” He’s cut off by a sob, and for a few moments all you can hear is crying and running water. “What do you need? Please. ” He sounds almost resigned when he replies, “I-I can’t get the shampoo open.” He laughs then, but it’s weak and ungenuine, “I’m as pathetic as ever, aren’t I?” “No! No, you’re not I-” You lose your words, unsure how you can help from the other side of this door. Biting your lower lip, you hedge your bets, “Can I come in?” The running water sounds louder than ever, making the absence of speech absolutely deafening. After what feels like an age, you hear a quiet, “Okay…”

The room is filled with steam when you open the door and gingerly step inside. Komaeda is facing away from you, his broad shoulders are hunched uncomfortably and his head is bowed low down. You can see the full length of his spine, bumps protruding out from under his fragile skin. He’s shaking. 

“Hey…” You start.

Komaeda turns his head and peers at you from over his shoulder, “Hello.” 

He looks a lot different like this, with his usual mass of curly hair clinging flat to his skull. It’s a lot longer when wet too, reaching an inch or so down past his shoulders. He turns his face away from you again and bends down to pick something up, you quickly realise he is now holding the bottle of shampoo out behind himself for you to come grab. 

Shucking your sweater and leaving it on the towel rack to prevent it from getting wet, you step towards the shower stall, but before you are able to grab the handle and pull the door open, Komaeda laughs weakly. “I apologise, for…subjecting you, to myself.” He breathes, he’s shaking again, “I hope you aren’t too disgusted.” You pull the door open, and grab the bottle of shampoo from his quivering hand, “I’m not.” you reply, quickly unscrewing the cap and passing it back into his awaiting hand, “I’m not disgusted at all.” Komaeda doesn’t offer a reply, but you do watch as he pours some of the shampoo onto the top of his head, and does his best to rub it in with only one available hand. There are a few moments where the remainder of his left arm lifts upward like he is still expecting there to be a hand there. 

He starts sobbing again. 

“Hey, it’s okay…” you say quickly, scrambling to think of what you can do to help, “Would it help if I did it for you? At least for tonight?” He slowly turns his head again, droplets of water are caught in his pale eyelashes, “I couldn’t…I couldn’t ask you to do that for someone like me.” “But would you let me?” He laughs again, it’s a sad little sound, but when he smiles it seems almost real, “I would.” That’s enough for you. 

Komaeda doesn't turn away this time, instead watching almost transfixed as you start tugging off your clothes. It’s going to be awkward, but there is little sense in getting them wet. Komaeda does quickly turn his head when you are left standing there in only your bra and panties, and he steps a little closer to the wall to leave you enough room to slip in behind him. 

The water is very warm. It almost burns. You wonder how he can stand it. 

There isn’t much space in the shower, you are almost pressed up against him, but you ignore this and reach upward to tangle your fingers in his hair. It’s very thin but feels nice between your fingers as you gently encourage the shampoo into a lather. It’s chamomile scented, subtle and clean. A pleased noise escapes him when you put pressure on his temples, and another one when you press your thumbs in at the base of his skull. You watch as his shoulders finally start to relax, angling downward in a soft line as you massage his hair. 

“Tilt your head back for me.” You whisper, so quietly that the falling water almost drowns out your voice. 

Komaeda does as asked, his hair falling backwards over his shoulders in a river of white. “Are your eyes closed?” He hums in reply and allows you to slowly comb through his hair with your fingers, removing any of the remaining suds. 

Your relationship with Komaeda has been strange ever since he woke up from the simulation. He doesn’t talk to you often and tries not to be around you much, despite you sharing a cottage. You can’t help wondering if it’s because he is trying to spare you the discomfort of his presence as he so often says, or if he might just…not like you very much. For all his posturing, you can tell that even Komaeda has his preferences, he and Tsumiki rarely get along, and while he is far more likely to get passive-aggressive than regular aggressive, it’s also pretty obvious that he has very little tolerance for Hanamura. 

Even in those cases though, Komaeda always smiles. You have gotten quite good at reading the subtleties of that smile. Whether it has a sharper mocking edge, or if he is using it to hide lingering sadness underneath. Sometimes it’s genuine, but not very often. You wish you could see his real smile more, but he doesn’t smile around you much at all. Not even disingenuously. 

You aren’t sure why.

Luckily his conditioner is on an easily reachable shelf, so you are able to grab it yourself. Pouring a little bit in your hand, you slowly rub it into his hair, it’s thin enough that he doesn’t need much of it. His hair usually looks so much thicker, but you suppose it’s just very curly and has very little actual weight to it. 

There are only a few tangles when you comb through it again and Komaeda doesn’t make any acknowledgement of pain, but you are familiar enough with him to know that even if he did feel any, Komaeda wouldn’t dare let you know it.

“All done.” You breathe, letting his hair drop free from your hands. 

For the first time, Komaeda turns entirely to face you. His hair is all combed backwards away from his face, leaving his eyes much more intense than usual. They’re a lot greener than you thought they were, and his lips are a lot pinker. 

Water pools at his collarbones, where they arch out almost painfully from beneath his paper-thin skin. The slope of his neck is long and intimidating, even when he is hunched over like this Komaeda is much taller than you. 

He stares down at you appraisingly, head tilted to the side as if he finds you endlessly curious, “Why?” 

The energy between the two of you has shifted. You can feel it, there is a rising tension, a panicked desperation that you are both trying to keep at bay. It’s unexpected, but you are surprised to find that it is hardly unwelcome. It feels like your words are all caught at the back of your throat, so you have to swallow thickly before you are able to answer his question.

“Why, what?” you reply, near breathlessly. 

Komaeda’s brow draws taught, he seems confused, “Ah, you see, I know very well that you drew the short straw when you were assigned to look after me out of everyone here.” he says quickly, factually, “I can only imagine how disappointed you must have been! So why even bother actually helping me?” You frown, upset at how readily he assumes this about you, “You talk like this happened by chance.”

He barks a laugh, “Well, it must have! How else could someone be convinced to-” “I asked! ” He freezes, you can see his bare chest heaving with laboured breath, his tongue darts out to wet his lip and the water falling all around is the only sound you hear until, “You…asked?” “I knew how difficult this would be for you. All of it, I mean.” you shrug one shoulder, trying to make this confession seem less momentous than it actually is, “I wanted to help you. So I asked to be assigned to you when you woke up.”

Komaeda’s expression twists into something that you are at first worried might be pain, and then he drops his head down, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Don’t do this to me. You can’t care about me. You can’t .” He pleads, his breath warm on your skin.

You wrap one of your arms around him, heart racing as you do so, “What if I do?” you whisper, “What if I care about you more every single day, what then?” He makes a strangled sound, and his hand grips tightly to your bare waist. It feels so large pressed against you, “I’ll do something I shouldn’t, I know it! Something selfish ” Another sob breaks loose from his throat, and he tugs you up against him. You become suddenly very aware of just how naked the two of you are, but it’s hardly at the forefront of your mind. 

“Be selfish then.” You breathe, gently combing through his hair with your fingers, “You’re allowed that, just like everyone else.” You feel him shake his head, aching sobs preventing him from speaking clearly, “I’m not , I’m not like everyone else, given the chance I would just take and take and take .” His shoulders shake with wheezing peals of laughter, “I have nothing to offer the others, nothing to offer the world, nothing to offer you .”

The fact that he separates you from not just the others, but the whole world, makes fireworks alight in your chest. His hand moves from your waist to the small of your back, hugging you as tightly as he can with only one arm, still shivering with something trapped between laughter and sobs, “W-why- hahaha! Why should someone like me be allowed to take when I have nothing to give? It just- it doesn’t make sense! I don’t- I just-” You push him backward by the shoulders, just enough that you can look him in the eyes. They are rimmed with red, and his cheeks are pink and blotchy. Your brows pull together, and you reach out to cup his cheek in your palm. His eyes dart to your hand, and then back to your face, you offer him a smile, “You don’t have to be useful to exist, you know? It’s alright to just be.” you gently rub your thumb over his prominent cheekbone, “and I, for one, am glad that you are here.”

His breathing grows heavier, and even amongst the falling water, you can still catch the tears running down his cheeks. Komaeda’s fingers press firm enough against your skin that it almost hurts, like he is trying to anchor himself to you. He sucks in a desperate mouthful of air, lips half open as if he needs to say something, anything . 

Then, he finally breaks. 

Komaeda surges forward, pressing his body full against yours and kissing you with indescribable desperation. His large hand digs into the wet hair at the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in tight. You gasp into his mouth, the hand you have on his cheek moving around to cradle the back of his head. He whimpers aloud at the feeling of your fingers in his hair, angling his head to the side for easier access to your mouth. It’s difficult to keep your moans in check when his lips open beneath yours, and it becomes impossible when he takes your lower lip in between his and gently sucks on it. 

The two of you are a desperate mess, and with the hot water still raining down all around there is no reprieve from the unrelenting heat. Komaeda moves his hand to your hip, grasping tightly to your soft skin and doesn't so much push as he does guide you up against the glass wall of the shower. You gasp aloud, and he pulls away.

“We can stop.” He says quickly,  so quickly that it comes out sounding like a single word.

“No.” You reply just as fast, wanting to ensure that he doesn't get a chance to doubt how much you need him, “The glass is cold and it surprised me, that’s all.”

He giggles a little, and the smile he gives you is so close to being truly genuine that it makes your heart ache, “Ah, my apologies, then.”

He doesn't immediately return to kissing you, instead rubbing gentle circles on your hip bone with his thumb. He watches the way his own fingers move across your skin, mesmerised by it, as if he can barely even comprehend how he is able to touch you, that his fingers don’t pass straight through. You don’t interrupt him, inside absorbing the way his brows pinch when he focuses, the depth of his eyes. The gentle movement of his thumb sends shivers through you, though it’s clear that he is now more curious than desperate. 

“This is a terrible idea.” He whispers, “You know that, don’t you?” Despite his words, he makes no move to release you. His hand still grips tightly to your bare hip, his actions fully betraying his words. Komaeda thinks he should stop, but he really doesn't want to. You place your hand over where his rests, pressing it firmly against you, “I don’t think it’s a terrible idea.” you breathe, “Besides, what else could we possibly lose?” He makes a choked noise in the back of his throat, like he wants to argue but can’t bring himself to. In the shaky moment between words, you slowly bring his hand up your side and over the dip of your waist, all the way up. Komaeda swallows thickly, breath quickening as you gently move his hand to your breast. 

“Touch me.” He moans then, a sound so needy that it almost sounds like a plea. His hand squeezes your breast and he buries his face in the side of your neck again, “S-Soft…” he whimpers against you, hand squeezing firmer this time, “So soft…” You toss your head back in a moan of your own when you feel his lips latch onto the side of your throat. He’s moaning and huffing against you, sucking deep purple marks up the length of it. He repositions his hand a little so that he is able to circle your nipple with his thumb and that sends your hips immediately canting forward into his. Komaeda makes a desperate choked noise, and you can feel his arousal press firm against your lower belly. 

Komaeda pulls back just a little, enough that he can see the constellation of bruises he has left on the side of your throat. He laughs a little, “Aha! You’re real , and I am here, doing this to you.”

His assertion at the reality of this moment only makes the warmth in your belly grow fiercer. You hook your leg up over his hip, and Komaeda instinctively tries to steady you with his left arm. He giggles to himself, peering down at where he has the remainder of his forearm tucked under your raised knee, “How lucky, that still worked.” With the extra leverage, Komaeda rests his hand on the glass wall behind you and lifts your leg just enough for your sex to press against his. The sound he makes is nearly evangelical, a broken and passionate moan at the mere feeling of you against him. 

You loop your arms around his shoulders for balance, glad that he doesn’t feel the need to hide his face in your shoulder again, because it means you get to watch him. His eyes squeeze shut, and he clenches his teeth together as he tenderly rocks his hips against yours. You mewl at the feeling, resting your head back on the cool glass behind you. 

His eyes open, and he just stares at you. They’re greener towards the centre, rimmed with a shade so pale you could almost call it grey. His eyelashes are long and white, so close you could count them. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he is angelic . With hair clinging to him like a white veil, reaching all the way down to his collarbones, and the way his lips hang open with heavy breath. 

“Please…” Is all you are able to say, one word filled with such desperation that Komaeda nearly shatters at the gravity of it. 

He moves his hand down between the two of you, and lines himself up with your entrance. You release a stuttered little gasp when he brushes against you, and Komaeda shudders, “Ah…are you…are you sure? ” You get the sense this is the last time he will ask. 

“I’m sure.” You reply, and Komaeda leans down to rest his forehead against yours as he pushes himself forward. Your moans intermingle with the first inch, his more of a whine and yours more of a gasp. You move your hands to the back of his head, clutching tightly at his wet hair, breath coming hard and heavy as he inches in deep and deeper. When he bottoms out, Komaeda cries out, nearly sobbing . 

“I-I…aha! I’m-” he can barely even bring himself to say it. You save him the trouble, tilting your head up and slanting your lips against his. Komaeda makes a shocked sound into your mouth, his hand quickly jumping up to cup your cheek in his palm. His lips are soft and wet and warm, you dart your tongue out to run across the seam of his mouth and he welcomes you gratefully. Despite his near panicked desperation, his tongue is gentle with yours, licking into your mouth like he is addicted to your taste. 

You are still kissing him when he starts to move, and he swallows the desperate little gasps your release with each of his shaky thrusts. The water is starting to turn cold, the two of you have been in here for so long that the hot water is running out, it doesn’t matter. Komaeda’s hand moves down from your cheek to your chest, and he gently massages your breast while his tongue continues tangling with yours. Being this close to him, with him inside you, it’s suddenly impossible to imagine how you ever went without. You cling to him desperately, your blunt nails scratching at the nape of his neck and realise that you need him just as much as he needs you, if not even more. 

He thrusts harder, deeper, and your mouth leaves his so you can release a throaty moan at the feeling of him hitting that perfect spot inside, “R-Right there…” You manage to stammer, head resting back against the glass behind you, “Please… please… ” 

Komaeda whines, angling his hips in an attempt to hit the same spot again. He watches you, to make sure he’s doing it right, and he breaks out in a wide smile when your lips fall open in another shaky moan. There’s a perfect twisting of pleasure building inside you, growing more and more powerful with each of Komaeda’s movements. 

You can’t help but focus on all the places he is touching you. On where his large hand grips your breast, on the feeling of his forearm tucked under your knee, and then when he ducks his head down once again, the sensation of his lips on the side of your throat. He is everywhere, and that thought just brings you closer and closer. The water is still slowly cooling, and Komaeda huffs desperately against your neck, “I-I’m close…” Even hearing that sends a bolt of pleasure straight between your thighs, “M-Me too.” You swallow thickly, “Don’t stop” Komaeda breaks out in a bout of laughter, “Aha! I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.” he gently nips your neck, “You feel so good, do you know that?” he picks up the pace, moaning loudly against your skin, “Don’t you know what you are doing to me?” You can’t even answer, head lolling back in ecstasy as you feel your arousal reaching a fever pitch. In a near stupor, you wrap both of your arms around his shoulders and tug him forward until his chest is pressed fully against your, desperate for him to be completely and impossibly close to you. Komaeda is trembling against you, his thrusts turning rhythmless and desperate, you can hear his quickening breath in your ear and with a warbling cry, you shatter . 

You feel yourself go limp, only the wall behind you and Komaeda’s arm under your knee are keeping you upright. Your whole body feels loose and warm, but you still watch in adoration as Komaeda continues moving inside of you. His brow creasing, his teeth biting down on his lower lip and then with a howling broken cry, he tumbles over the edge. 

He lets your leg drop, his face falling to rest on your shoulder as his breathing slows. A surprised gasp escapes you when he pulls out, almost aching from the loss of him. He doesn’t have anything to say, and neither do you, simply letting your fingers run through his hair as he comes back down. 

You only have a moment to rest before the hot water disappears completely and both of you jump at the sudden cold. Komaeda quickly shuts the water off and turns back to you with a sleepy smile, “It appears we have used all the hot water.” You laugh, “Yes, it does.” He stands before you, his face soft and his smile finally finally genuine. You reach up and tuck some of his wet hair behind his ear, heart warming with something that might someday be love. You hope that you will be with him long enough to see that day. “We should, ah, probably get out now.” He says almost sheepishly. 

You smile, “Probably. Next time we should make sure not to waste so much water.” Komaeda’s face is awash in surprise, but it quickly settles back into that perfectly tender smile, “Yes, next time.” 

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Turn My Lead Into Gold

Abel Morales x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 30: Afternoon Delight

Summary: Your friend is on their deathbed, so you turn to an unlikely source for help.

A/N: Thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading, she is the MVP here <3

Warnings: fairy!Abel, dubcon because this is a deal, but reader is into it, kissing, p in v sex, cream pie, reader has a friend who is very ill, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1454

He smiles at you dressed in a sharp suit and soft camel wool coat. The late afternoon sunshine filters through the trees, the sun close to setting. 

He wasn’t what you’d expected. 

“You can call me Abel.” He says politely and offers you his hand.

You swallow and shake it. But say nothing.

He laughs, “Not going to give me a name?” 

“You can call me whatever you want.” You say softly. 

“Very good, very good.” He strokes his thumb over the back of your hand. “I won’t beat around the bush, you know what I am, and I know why you’re here. You want a deal.”

You nod. 

“What for?” 

“My friend… they’re ill, things… things don’t look good.” You try not to let the tears well up in your eyes. 

Abel nods. “They’re close to their end in this realm.” 

You nod again, trying not to get caught up in how he moves, in how painfully beautiful he is.

“And you don’t want them to be.” He strokes his neck, still keeping a hold of your hand. “I’m quite impressed, most mortals have either given up asking us for favours or they have forgotten how to.”

“A deal,” you repeat, stressing the word. “Not a favour.” No way you were going to be in a fae’s debt. 

He smiles again, “A deal. You’re quite right. Well… You want me to cure them, completely?” 

“Yes.” 

“What makes you think I can?” He asks, almost sing song. 

“I…” You swallow, “In my research you’re…”

“I’m?” He practically purrs.

“Your sigil… denotes someone with great power.” 

“And you thought,” he lets go of your hand to walk around you, “what a good idea to summon someone with the power over life and death?” He stops behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and you manage not to jump. 

“I invited you, I didn’t summon you.” You say quietly, somehow keeping your voice even. 

Abel leans close, his lips at your ear. “And I came… Why do you think that is?” 

You pause, clenching your hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “Boredom?”

He laughs again, but this sound is kind. “Intrigue.” Slowly he moves around to face you again. He looks over you slowly, “Most want power. In the end, it’s all for selfish reasons.” 

He cocks his head to the side when you don’t object. “Aren’t you going to tell me saving your friend’s life is noble? That you’re on the path of righteousness?” 

You shake your head. “They are my friend and I love them, I don’t want them to suffer, and I don’t want them to die. It’s selfish. I don’t want to be without them.” You screw up your eyes and swallow down the thickness in your throat. 

Abel pauses and then lightly touches your cheek. His fingers are warm despite the cool autumn air. “Sit.” He gestures to the leaf covered ground. 

You kneel slowly and he follows, smiling softly. 

“Lay back.” 

“I…” 

“You wanted a deal, did you not?” He raises an eyebrow at you. “For me to save your friend’s life?” 

“What is… what do you want in return?” 

“Nothing that will harm you to give, or enchant you, you have my word.” 

You pause, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Do you not trust me?” He teases, lightly touching your cheek again as he inches closer. 

You know you can’t say anything but yes, all other options would be insulting and leave you at best, alone with no deal. 

“Yes.” You say softly and he smiles. 

Slowly he leans forward and presses his lips to yours, soft and sweet. You gasp, not expecting the kiss. And in the time it takes you to breathe in, the world shifts, gravity flipping as you’re gently pulled by a force you can’t see flat onto your back. 

Abel follows you, delighting in the shock that plays out on your face, his body covering yours. He slips between your legs, kissing you lightly as he settles.

The leaves underneath you are soft, warm. Slowly rising and falling as if the forest floor was alive and breathing. 

“Let me make love to you.” He whispers softly in your ear, “In exchange your friend will fully recover.” 

“Why?” You can’t stop the word from falling out of your mouth, but to your relief, he chuckles.

“You may ask me that the next time we meet.” 

“The next time?” 

“Ah, mortals, so full of questions,” he teases, “do you agree to the deal or not?” 

You nod softly. “I agree.” 

“Good mortal,” he whispers, drawing out the word and then grins when you frown, “what? You said for me to call you whatever I wanted.” 

You bite back the sharp comment you want to throw at him. Even if he wasn’t a fae, something about the cheeky smile and soft eyes he gives you leaves you weak. 

There’s an odd sensation along the seams of your trousers, a pull and then snap as the treads undo and come loose seemingly of their own will. You flinch, but Abel chuckles again and soothes you with kisses to your jaw.

“Pay it no mind.” 

“I…”

He licks into your mouth hungrily, tasting of honey and sweet fruit, holding you tight under him as your clothing falls away. He slides one hand down to your hip, the only material now covering him is his warm coat. It drapes around you both, spilling out onto the forest floor. 

You barely have a second to feel his warm bare skin against yours before he’s notching his thick cock at your entrance and pushing in with a deep groan.

You gasp, tense, expecting pain from the suddenness and apparent size. But instead, there is only pleasure. It floods into your veins, burning along your skin and you writhe, bucking mindlessly as he slips deeper. 

He grunts happily, pressing lightly at your inner thigh to spread you wider. “Ah, I had forgotten what humans feel like.” He nips at your neck, grinning as your back arches. “And you feel divine.” 

Slowly he rocks inside of you, pushing that deep pleasure further and further into your body as you’re split open. You cry out, your body taking over your mind and catching the sensation. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” he groans, his eyes burning with glee as you move under him. “Feels so good, doesn’t it?” 

You whine and he sucks at your jaw, licks down your neck to your chest and sucks on your breasts. All while he keeps that deep, liquid pace. Like waves rolling into the shore, unrelenting as he pulls you apart slowly. 

“Please,” you hiccup, forgetting yourself for a moment. 

“Ah, they beg.” He mutters into your skin. “Do not worry, I won’t take advantage of your state.” He sucks a love bite into the side of your breast. “I would beg you, in turn, to say my name in that breathy voice of yours.”

“Abel,” you cry out without thinking and he moans, moving up quickly to capture your mouth with his. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he whispers between harsh kisses. “Mine and mine alone. You’ll come for me, won’t you? Let me hear you when you release.” 

You whine, grabbing at his shoulders as he pushes on the back of your thighs, pressing them against your stomach. 

Your toes curl, your mind practically floating as he keeps moving, keeps pushing you higher and higher, seemingly never-ending. You run your hands through his soft hair, trying to pull him closer for another kiss, but he keeps himself tantalisingly out of reach, watching you with dark, desperate eyes as you contort in pleasure. 

You bite your lip, your thighs shaking, so close as the bud forms in your stomach, ready to bloom. 

Abel gasps, thrusting deep, his coat fluttering. You realise now, that it’s not a coat at all, but wings, gossamer gold and tan, they raise up, impossibly tall stretching out until they block out the canopy from your vision.

You sob as you come hard, the pleasure hitting and spreading across your veins like a curse, singing along every vein as you cry out into the forest. 

He moans deeply, speaking in a language you do not understand as he empties himself within, spilling and spilling until you are as full as you can be. 

Part of you expects him to disappear the second you start to come back to yourself, to leave you there sweaty and grimy on the forest floor. 

But instead, he nuzzles your cheek and kisses you lightly, his hands running down your ribs. He smiles at you as he tilts your chin up again and presses his lips to yours. 

Thank you for reading!

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Things We Can't Change

Epilogue for Sweet Treats AU: by character | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Note: 👋

Please let me know what you think <3

🍯🍯🍯

You swirl the whisk around, wrist keeping a sharp and tenuous rotation as you hold the bowl steady. The rhythmic ting of the metal against the glass fills the kitchen and the silence of the large house. The place is static and surreal, just like the rest of your life. Ever since…

Don’t think. You won’t be alone tonight. Isn’t that something to look forward to? Is there anything left in this world you can be happy for? Maybe if you could feel anything but the flatline.

“My brother is not very happy,” Loki’s voice brings your head up as he strides coolly, “something about that little mouse and her attitude.”

“Oh…” you look back down, focusing on the batter’s consistency. Almost there. The burning in your tendons is almost enjoyable. To feel anything but dread. “Are they not coming then?”

“I never said that, darling,” Loki stops at the end of the marble island and rests his hand atop it

“Good, good,” you utter, “wouldn’t want this to go to waste.”

“Please, it will. No doubt my brother will leave crumbs littered across the floor like the animal he is.”

You look at him again and give a tight-lipped smile. He does this, makes you and offer but makes it feel like a favour asked. Was it not his suggestion to have Muffing come keep you company? Because he said it would cheer you up. That it would help you forget.

How could you forget what he did? You narrow your eyes and stare at him. Your wrist moves out of instinct and a loud clink keeps you from a full-blown glare. You look down. Fuck.

“Gosh,” you stop and drop the whisk to lean against the brim, “looks like I ruined them myself.” 

You sniff and turn away. You go to the other counter and pull close the tray of eggs. Start over. That’s the good part about baking, you can always try again. 

You separate the yolk into one bowl and the whites another. You flinch and break through the yellow with the shell as Loki snakes his arms around you from behind. You cringe as your whites are stained with the viscous slime. You suppress your disappointment and lower the shell as he nuzzles your neck.

“It is rather amusing to think of how you midgardians can find such joy in menial tasks,” he purrs, “on Asgard, we have servants who bake our bread.”

“Mmm,” you stiffen and rest your hand on the counter. “You must miss it.”

“I do, though Asgard never missed me,” he sways you with him, “we have some time… they are still upon the road…”

His hands slip down your sides and frame your hips. He pulls you against him, pressing his twitching crotch flush to your ass. You curl your fingers and swallow a shudder.

“I’ve egg on my hands,” you sidle free of him and grab a dishcloth, “and I promised Muffin strawberry meringues the next time she was in town.”

“Do you even know if she heard you? The creature seems rather oblivious.”

“She’s not stupid,” you argue but keep your tone from piquing, “she’s quiet, that’s all.”

“To think, my brother would make that his wife,” he approaches you again, penning you in before the sink, “none are so fortunate as me, are they?” He looms closely, leaning in until his nose brushes your forehead, “when I heard of those buffoons and their missing women… not me and my darling.” He touches the emerald at your throat, “I shall always keep her close.”

“My prince,” you murmur, “I wouldn’t…”

“I know you wouldn’t, darling, you are a prince’s wife now. You know your duties. You’ve proven to me that you could never let me down, yes?”

“Yes, my prince,” you reply. 

You hold back a tide of rage. You never would have said yes if you knew what it meant. If you knew what he would do. It wasn’t a fair trade. He is worth none of it but he is all you have left. Besides, he will never let you go and that fact sounds a lot more romantic than it truly is.

“My princess,” his hand crawls down your skirt, slowly tugging it up your thigh as he rubs his nose against yours, “the only promise I care for is that which you made to me.”

[the-travelling-witch]

all of your om!ocs deserve the most toe curling, breathtaking, lewdest blowjob that would leave them bone dry (￣ω￣) i'm very normal about them yessir yes (//▽//)

oh they absolutely do~ || obey me masterlist

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 is very composed at the beginning, taking in the pretty sight of you on your knees for him. And he’s sure to tell you as much, too. Throughout the whole thing, he makes sure to offer you a lot of praise, gently encouraging you to go further, to take more of him.

He’ll hold your face with a delicate hand, trace a perfectly manicured finger over your cheek or down your throat or push the hair from your face, tangling his hand in it if your hair is long enough. It’s as if you two have all the time in the world, his patience seemingly endless as he savours this moment.

Though, of course, even Dantalion isn’t completely unaffected by this situation and he doesn’t pretend to be. His moans are as pretty as the sight of him leaning back on one hand as the other runs through his silky blond strands. Look up at him and appreciate the sight as he does his and feel him twitch in your mouth.

Where he cums really depends on the situation and how both of you are feeling. If he doesn’t want to ruin your clothes or make up (though taking him would probably ruin it anyway), he’ll gladly spill down your throat. Though as an artist, the idea of painting your face is definitely just as appealing to him.

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐑 is definitely a little mean to you. But you have to understand, he just gets off on seeing you struggle to take him as pearly tears decorate your water line. So cry a little more for him, won’t you?

His hand is roughly grabbing your hair (or your head) as filthy degradations fall from his lips. Though surely, tagging on a possessive ‘my’ to those stinging pet names will soothe your nerves a little.

He doesn’t mind the way your nails dig into his thighs as his hips thrust to your lips, in fact, the slight pain pulls a low groan from deep in his chest. If you’re comfortable with it, his hand might wander to lie around your neck like an exclusive piece of jewellery and he smirks at the way he can feel you gag around him. Seeing you take everything he gives you so readily sparks something in him.

There are few times when Val doesn’t want to cum right down your throat and he always does so with a slightly breathless groan, holding you still against him while you watch his abs flex with his high. After pulling out, his thumb collects everything you didn’t manage to swallow the first time around so you can correct that.

Honestly, once you put your mouth on him, it becomes all too clear why so many people watch 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒’s stream solely for his voice. It’s like he was made to moan your name and his melodic voice dropping lower than usual is reason enough to have you squirming in your place.

This demon is very generous with his reactions in general. Be it encouraging you to hollow your cheeks more and taking him deeper by talking you through it or scraping his nails along your scalp to ground himself, he is letting you know you’re making him feel so good.

Not that it is hard to guess, with the way his hips grind on their own, accidentally making the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat (something he will apologise for later unless you already told him you liked/ didn’t mind it) or with the way his head is tipped back, lips parted to let more of those sinful noises through.

Stolas would love to either cum on your face or on your chest. There’s something about seeing you covered and marked by him that makes his brain bluescreen, no matter how messy it is to clean up. It’s easy to overstimulate him like this, so more often than not he will pin you down and return the favour so you don’t get any funny ideas.

tag list: @the-guardian-kitsune (i’m hoping you don’t mind being tagged in nsfw content? you can tell me if you do mind!!)

[sweeterthanthis]

‘Tis The Damn Season

A/N: So, this is kind of a big deal as its my first writing collaboration and I couldn’t have enjoyed it more. @msmarvelwrites​ has been an absolute joy to work with, has well and truly helped me out of my writing slump, and we are so excited to share this with you! We poured ourselves into this, and we hope you enjoy it! Go and show her some love! 

Summary: It had taken you a year to get over Bucky Barnes, and a solid hour to fall back into that trap once again.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Mild angst, explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral/rimming (f receiving), fluff. 18+

Word Count: 6k

Flashbacks are in italics! 

Twinkling Christmas lights adorned the lamp posts as you wandered aimlessly through Brooklyn. The snow softly cascading from above stuck to the cool ground as the sky favoured the moon. It was a perfect New York night, and after spending Christmas with your boisterous family, the glittering streets were exactly the kind of break you needed.

One year. It had been exactly one year since you had left the New York compound. Up and quit your job and moved across the country for a ‘change of scenery’.

“I- I think I’m in love with him.” You sighed in defeat, hands coming up to cover your face as if you could shield the impending shame that would inevitably follow.

“You love him?” Nat asked, confusion in her eyes as she followed your wanting stares landing on the assassin making his way out of the bar. She tried to smile sympathetically, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. “Bucky? Him? Honey, you know he hasn't had a girl in that bed that he’s kept around for more than a day?” 

“You don't think I know that?” You snapped, instantly regretting the tone the moment it left your lips.

Nat ran her eyes over your form taking in your sleep deprived exterior and you watched as if a light bulb lit above her head. “Y/N… You didn't…” Natasha all but gasped.

You gulped, hard. Oh, you so had. You had on his couch. On his bathroom sink, against the bedpost. There wasn't a place in his apartment that he hadn't pulled you apart, images of last weekend's affair swirling around your head like a broken record.

“Okay, listen.” You started, hands already up in defense, “He kissed me okay? He kissed me and it’s like I stopped breathing. Like I was drowning, and the whole world slipped away. He kissed me and I swear, it was like I’d never been kissed before.” You huffed, defeated and still so very drunk on his lips. Or perhaps it was the third glass of wine you were nursing at that moment.

“Fucking, Bucky.” She cursed, looking as if she was going to beat the man to a pulp as she scanned the room for his now absent form. “I’m going to kill that punk when I find him.”

“Nat, it’s not his fault. I didn't stop him. I just wanted to know what it was like to hold him like they do. To touch him the way only those women do. I just wanted to taste-”

“Okay, that's enough of that.” Nat chuckled, playfully gagging as you giggled in return.

“I just… I messed up. I know I did, because of course sleeping with the man was going to make this all so much worse.” You sighed, admitting defeat as your eyes favored the floor rather than your overly sympathetic friend.

“Do you want my advice?” She quipped, her well manicured fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Do I really have a choice?” You huffed, watching as Nat’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

“No, not really.” She laughed, shaking her head. “The way I see it, you have two options. You can sit here with me, and I can break out the tequila, and we can moan and bitch about how chiseled Bucky’s abs are, or you can grow a pair and march up to that man's bedroom and tell him how you really feel. But take it from the expert of waiting too long- don’t.”

You watched Nat expectantly as if she was going to continue, but she only raised a well groomed brow and smirked. You swallowed hard, your heart pumping in your chest as you nodded your head in affirmation.

“I’m going to tell him!” You exclaimed, jumping to your feet in triumph. “I’m going to tell him -- to hell with it.” a grin formed on your lips as adrenaline coursed through your body. 

Reaching across the table you grabbed Nat’s bottle of liquid courage, and brought it to your lips.

“That’s my girl. Go get him!” She cackled, clapping her hands together as she shooed you off.

You practically bolted through the compound to Bucky’s apartment, dodging your friends in the hallway as you ran like your life depended on it. And really, it did. 

You knew if you stopped you could lose your nerve, but he deserved to know. And you deserved to get this hulking crush off your chest. Though, a million scenarios ran through your brain, you wouldn't stop until-

His lips met with hers, slow and hard. You blinked, unsure of what you were seeing as the alcohol clouded your vision. You squinted, watching as he ran his hands through her hair and it was as if you were watching your own affair take place. Like it was filmed and mirrored back at you. The same fleeting touches and longing stares. Your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest.

Of all the scenarios, this was one you were never prepared for.

“That was fun, Doll.” The pet name fell from his lips as well rehearsed as the way he spoke it to you. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

The woman giggled, the sound echoing through the empty hallway as she tossed her cascading locks over her shoulder, and strutted away in the opposite direction. You wanted to run, to turn away and pretend to be completely unaffected but your feet were frozen, your heart palpitating in your chest so loud you could swear he heard it.

And maybe he did.

Bucky's eyes caught your form, hollowed and defeated and he smiled. He smiled like your heart hadn't really been torn into shreds and littered around the space between you. Like two friends would. Because really, that's exactly what you had always been.

To him, you would only be one good night, and in that, your heart truly broke.

You tried to stay, really you did. But when the dust settled on your night with Bucky, you realized everything truly had changed. You couldn't look at him without feeling sick to your stomach. Every woman that stumbled from the confines of his room was another dagger to your chest. 

So, a new adventure it was.

That's what you had told your friends at least. Never would you utter the real catalyst that had sent you away. There was no need for such remarks now.  

After all, it had been a year.

You were over the trepidations of your half-hearted confrontation, your illicit affair with the former assassin wiped clean from your memory -- at least that's what you told yourself most nights. 

Though, if you were completely honest, you would always feel the way his eyes felt on you. How they seemed to pull a shiver from your core by just casting their attention onto you.

How his breath hitched in his throat when your lips traced over his collarbones. Or how easy it seemed to be to find that unholy spot deep inside of you as he pulled orgasm after orgasm —

“OOF!” You huffed loudly, running into what could only be described as a brick wall as you stumbled backwards. 

You shut your eyes tight, bracing yourself for the impending crash as you hit the concrete, but it never came. Instead, you felt two strong arms wrap themselves around you as the smell of tobacco and vanilla flooded your senses.

Your entire body froze, terrified as the familiar scent tore you from the bustling streets of Brooklyn and back to the dimly lit room of that all-consuming night. 

You couldn't open your eyes. You wouldn't dare.

“Woah there, Kid…” His voice came next as it pulled all the air from your lungs. 

You gulped, looking up at the man as if it was the first time you were really seeing him. If the memory of his opal eyes weren't seared into you like an old tattoo, you might not have recognized him, his long locks long gone now, soft, short tresses remaining in their place. But of course, you did recognize him. And you knew you always would.

“Shit, Y/N?” Your name fell from his lips, the same way it always did. The effect it had on you still ever present as you felt the familiar feeling, like being punched in the gut.

You winced, taking a step back as he let go of his hold on you, the same lopsided grin you loved so much plastered on his pillowy lips. 

God, the unholy sins that had fallen from them.

“Hey, Buck.” You hummed, your smile not quite reaching your eyes, try as you may. You watched in awe as he chuckled, the sound spiraling around you and wounding your aching heart you had so haphazardly tried to repair.

“I didn't know you were back. You coming to see me?” He asked hopefully. For the first time you looked up, realizing you had found yourself outside his Brooklyn apartment he’d begun renting shortly after moving into the compound. 

‘Can’t stand to look at Tony’s face all day every day’ he’d said. 

And though you thought it was crazy, you knew he just wanted a place to call his own, away from prying eyes where he could sit with his mind. He had brought you over a multitude of times and it seemed muscle memory had taken over. 

Truly, you couldn't be trusted.

“Uh,” you chuckled, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck as he watched you carefully. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

The smile that spread across Bucky's lips was enough to make you weak at the knees, though you tried to hold your composure.

“Will you come up? God, it's been forever. You have to tell me everything.” His voice was filled with a light, and airy hope. 

You wanted to decline. In fact, you had opened your mouth to, but it seemed your brain just liked to torment you.

“Why not?” You choked out, faking a smile as he hopped up his porch steps, holding the door open for you.

You cursed yourself the entire time as you made your way up to his apartment. 

The familiar smell of his space clouding your senses as you crossed the threshold. It seemed like he had moved more of his life into the small Brooklyn shoebox- little bits of Bucky everywhere you turned. 

A smile graced your lips as you took in the soft lighting, and welcoming furnishings. This had become his home. You blushed, feeling as though you were seeing a little piece of him you shouldn't.

“Take a seat, I’ll grab some wine. You’re a red kinda gal, aren't ya?” He asked, pottering into the kitchen as you wandered further into the living room.

“Hmm? What?”

“The couch.” Bucky chuckled, the sound melodic in your ears. He gestured to the couch, popping the cork on a bottle of wine. “Take a seat, I’ll pour you a glass.”

Your eyes fell on the grey sofa. Soft and inviting -- and so very off limits. 

You shouldn't be there. You knew it. But of course, your legs led you astray, pulling you to the pillowy cushions anyway.

You took a seat, instantly aware of how tight your jeans were on your body. God you hated those jeans. Why did you still wear them? 

You could feel your body begin to itch as the hand-me-down, cable-knit sweater scratched against your searing skin, the temperature swiftly rising inside you. 

Quickly you shrugged off your hat and scarf, wishing you could rid yourself of everything entirely, but knowing you’d be left in a horrifying predicament.

“So…” you began, nervously worrying in the inside of your lip as you carefully inspected his apartment. “How’s the gang been?”

Pictures of Steve and Nat sat delicately in their frames on bookshelves collecting dust. But the small Polaroid on the fridge is what caught your eye. 

You remembered the night that picture had been taken, remembered coming home from a grueling mission -- sore, and spirits so incredibly broken.

“You should see the other guy.” Bucky chuckled, lip broken open and the remnants of dried blood slick to his jaw. His once sparkling eyes now dark and blossoming with what would turn into a nasty bruise. But there he stood. Your man, your best friend, unabashedly proud and a total goof.

“I’m sure he’s a absolute mess.” You deadpanned, your body mirroring his own battle scars. “Can we please get out of here?”

“Could use a nice bubble bath. Maybe a deep tissue massage.” He quipped, rotating his neck to the side as he stretched his aching body.

All you could do was gawk. Mouth watering as you pictured all the unholy things you wanted to do with the blood battered Adonis standing before you.

“Care to join me?”

The offer hung heavy in the air as if you could accept. As if it wouldn't tear you apart to have him that way. To touch him, to run your fingers along his broken skin, and mend it with your mouth.

“I think you hit your head a little too hard back there, Barnes.”

He laughed at that, though you couldn’t help but notice a tone of disappointment in his voice.

“I love this picture.” You hummed, your index finger running over the plastic frame as the memory of before you walked away clouded your mind. How had it been so easy to leave this. To leave him.

“You were so kick ass out there.” Bucky spoke, his voice low and rich as he came to stand beside you. Almost instinctively you rested your head against his bicep, smiling up at him.

Oh, yeah. That’s how.

One look from Bucky. That look, and it was game over for you. Something as simple as him running his tongue along his bottom lip would send you into a deep abyss with no recovery in sight.

“Come sit with me. God, I’ve missed this. Missed you, doll.” He hummed, taking your hand and leading you back to the couch. You followed absentmindedly, knowing that with each step you were truly sealing your fate.

You couldn’t help yourself, the two glasses of red stripping back your inhibitions, eyes raking over his face. He seemed older now. Maybe not physically, but there was something in his cobalt stare, something akin to growth. And the longer you sat and talked with him, the more you recognized that growth, the maturity. 

“C’mon Doll, you tellin’ me that I’m not the best you ever had? You wound me.”

Slapping his palm against his chest dramatically, you couldn’t stifle the giggle that fell from your lips, your lip trapping between your teeth as your mind took you back to that night.

The way his hands felt gliding over your soft curves, the way his lips lit your heart on fire, the slow, glorious stretch as he filled you up for the first time that night. You were certain you’d never feel anything quite like that again, the sweet burn as he whispered in your ear.

“Is this okay, Doll?”

“Are you alright, Doll?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah I’m good.” You shook yourself from your daze, taking a long glug of your wine and shuffling uncomfortably in your seat. “So come on, it’s been a year Buck. What did I miss?”

Other than you.

“You know me. Same shit, different day. Not a whole lot’s changed since you moved out.” He watched as you focused your gaze on your lap, absentmindedly running your finger around the rim of your glass, his head cocked in interest. “And come to think of it, you never did tell me why you left.”

Your cheeks burned, heart thumping in your ears, the sound of the fire crackling echoing throughout the dimly lit room.

“Was just time to move on, I guess.” You felt his stare burning into you, acutely aware of the closing distance between the two of you as he sidled up to you, his outstretched arm draped across the back of the couch behind you. “Needed a new adventure.”

“You were my partner in crime, Doll. Been boring as fuck around here without you.”

“I’m sure you found a way to keep busy.” You mumbled, cringing internally at your lack of brain to mouth filter.

“I know what you’re thinkin’.” He grinned, flashing his pearly white teeth at you, sipping from his glass, and setting it down on the table in front of him. “Fuck, I was a total whore back then, huh? I think I’d just about have fucked anything with a pulse.”

“Ouch.”

His head snapped up, brow crinkled in confusion and his eyes flitting across your face as he sensed the pain in your tone.

“Wait, no. Fuck—that’s not what I meant.” Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he sighed. “I was a mess, Doll. I think we both know that.”

“I didn’t think about anyone else – fuck, I didn’t wanna think about anything at all. Why d’you think I had a different girl in that bed every week? Life was shitty, those fuckers got in my head. I just wanted to forget, I guess. Sex was my way of doing it.”

You could do nothing but gawp, taken aback by his honesty and sudden clarity. Bucky laughed then, throwing his head back against the cushions, soft crinkles in the corners of his eyes as he shook his head from side to side.

“Wow, Barnes. That was some deep, profound shit. You feelin’ okay?” You jested, chugging back the last of your wine and setting your glass down next to his.

“You can thank my therapist for that one.”

He shuffled his body then, elbow propped up against the back of the couch, palm cradling his own cheek as he looked at you with those perfect eyes. They were dangerous, a weapon; and they had the innate ability to make you lose yourself completely. Even after all this time.

“Therapist, huh? I’m impressed. I’m guessing she probably already told you that covering up trauma with sex doesn’t really work out all that well?”

“She did, yeah. Could have saved myself a fortune if you’d stuck around long enough to tell me that in the first place.” He chided, nudging his knee against yours, the sly grin on his face telling you that he meant no offence. “I never saw you like that though; you know that right?”

“You don’t have to say that Buck. It was a year ago. We can just pretend it never happened, okay?” You breathed, the words paining your heart as you spoke them, your lips forced into a convincing smile. “We all make mistakes when we’re in a bad place, I get it.”

“Is that what it was? A mistake?” Something in his tone made your tummy flutter, the feelings that you’d long since pushed away creeping back up and smacking you square in the face. Forcing yourself to look at him, you pulled yourself together before the seams of your heart burst completely.

“Bucky, I—”

“Because it wasn’t, not to me.”

He was so close, his warm breath fanning against your cheek, Vibranium hand squeezing your thigh sending a wave of want throughout your core. You blew out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, your eyes flickering between his own and his soft, plump lips.

It had taken you a year to get over Bucky Barnes, and a solid hour to fall back into that trap once again.

He leant in then, his lips barely an inch from yours, the tip of his nose brushing against yours, eyes pleading for permission to close the gap.

You wanted him to – wanted nothing more than to feel his mouth on yours once again. You’d craved it for an entire year, and nothing else, nobody else, had ever come close. But the fear of crippling yourself over him all over again gnawed away at your brain, the angel on your shoulder urging you to get up off that couch and walk out the door.

That all washed away the moment his lips pressed to yours, his hands cupping the column of your throat, thumbs brushing tenderly along your jawline. Your eyes flickered closed, your mind lost to nostalgic passion as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

He tasted like red wine, the faint tinge of underlying peppermint ingraining itself on your taste buds when you moved your own tongue slowly against his. Every ounce of how much he’d missed you, he poured into that kiss – possessive, passionate, desperate.

That all familiar warmth flooding the apex of your thighs, you panicked, your brain reminding you of the lengths you’d had to go to in order to move on in the first place. Your palm pressed gently against his chest, you pushed him away, his lips glinting with moisture in the low light.

“Bucky, we shouldn’t do this. This is—”

“You think I don’t know that I hurt you, Doll? You think Natasha didn’t rip me a new one after you left?”

His words startled you, your tongue twisted and unable to find the words to respond.

“I had one night with you, and it’s the only night worth remembering. If I’d have known then that it would be the last time I’d get to touch you, to appreciate you—I’d have made sure I’d done it properly.”

You were frozen, unable to comprehend his words, all encompassed with the need dripping from his tone. He was trying to make amends, and as pathetic as the thought was, you convinced yourself that it was the least he could do.

“Besides, ‘tis the season right?” He smiled then, and your heart swelled in your chest.

“Fuck it.”

You were in his lap then, straddling his thighs and kissing him with a fury that you’d long since felt. His satisfied grunts vibrated on your tongue, your hips winding against his jean covered crotch with vigour.

You couldn’t get close enough – your arms wrapped around his neck, tongue battling his for dominance as his hands tangled in your hair. Moisture pooled in your panties, the damp cotton material gliding against your clit with every swipe of your crotch against his.

Mouth, teeth and tongue dragged against your throat, his stubble burning your sensitive flesh, hands finding their way beneath the scratchy jumper adorning your torso. The cool of metal mixed with the warmth of his flesh made you shiver, your body arching into his touch, completely at the mercy of his caress.

“Oh.”

Sweeping the jumper up over your head, he tossed it to the side, sitting back to take a moment to appreciate the sight before him. His hands gripped your waist, the sounds of panting breaths ringing in your ears, wide-eyed and waiting for him to make his next move.

His hands travelled up over your breasts, thumbs brushing against your peaked nipples through the black lace covering your modesty.

The way he looked at you made you want to burst, like you’d hung the sun, moon, and stars just for him.

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

His lips were back on yours before you had the chance to speak, his kiss full of hunger and desire; hands gripping your face and keeping you pressed tight against his mouth. You could barely breathe, and you didn’t want to. You’d have given up all the oxygen in the world to feel every last bit of his kiss.

Your back hit the cushions, his body looming over yours, rigid bulge pressing against your core and making you keen with want.

Bucky sat back on his knees, his deft fingers making quick work of your button and fly. You giggled watching him try to yank them down your legs, the skin tight material clinging to your dewy skin.

“Jesus Christ Doll, you sew yourself into these?”

Your head thrown back against the cushions in amusement, you wiggled your hips, lending a helping hand as he shuffled the denim down your legs. Your jeans joined the sweater on the floor along with your socks, his palms squeezing your calves as his lips feathered against the soles of your feet.

Your toes curled, soft kisses peppered at the insides of your knees, mouth dragging up over your inner thighs – his face inches away from your sopping, panty covered pussy.

“Please, Bucky.” You begged, fingernails gripping the hair at your scalp as you tried to stay grounded, quickly losing control when his hot breath warmed your sensitive flesh.

“Patience, Baby.” The term of endearment made you whimper, brain cells turning to cotton candy with each passing second that his mouth wasn’t on your cunt. “Gonna take good care of this, don’t you worry ‘bout that.”

You watched as he bypassed your core, his tongue slipping out to taste your skin, indents left behind by tight denim reddening your skin, his lips dragging across the welts as if to soothe any discomfort.

All you could do was stare at him in wonder as he worshipped every inch of you, his hands reaching beneath you to unclasp your bra, revealing your pebbled buds to his hungry gaze.

“Incredible.” He muttered, mouth encasing your nipple as he pinched the other between his metal thumb and forefinger – the sensation making your pussy throb.

“Oh god.”

You couldn’t take it, his mouth and fingers caressing every part of your body but the place that craved his touch desperately.

Sitting forward, your hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt, all but ripping it up over his head and feasting your gaze on his impressive form for what felt like the first time.

He was solid muscle; the previously scarred flesh of his shoulder turned a soft shade of pink connecting to exquisite black metal. Unable to stop yourself, you reached out, cocking your head and tracing the gold lines with your fingertips.

It was uniquely beautiful. He was beautiful.

Bucky hitched your legs around his waist, rising to his feet with your chest pressed up against his, his palms kneading the soft flesh of your ass as he carried you over the threshold of his bedroom, your back hitting the mattress before you’d even had a chance to take in your surroundings.

His thumbs hooked beneath the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your thighs and over your knees as you kicked your feet out them hurriedly.

“Look at that pretty little pussy, Baby.” He crooned, climbing between your thighs, your legs hooked over his shoulders. “Prettiest thing I ever saw.”

Your thighs trembled as he ran a solitary finger through your plump, sloppy folds – mouth falling open, dumbstruck by each swipe of his fingertip back and forth across your throbbing clit.

“Fuck.”

All you could do was babble incoherently while he stretched you out slowly with his fingers, sucking your sensitive nub between his teeth and tugging lightly – enough to leave you on the edge almost immediately.

He ate you up, savouring every second of his lips on your cunt, shaking his head from side to side, his lusty moans rumbling through your core and setting your skin on fire. Obscene, wet sounds rang in your eardrums as he lapped, sucked, kissed, nibbled, and slurped at your pussy like it was the last thing he’d ever taste.

“Fuck, you taste so fucking good.”

“Come for me, Doll.” His fingers curled up against your g-spot, pulling cry after cry from your throat, your thighs holding him in place as they shook either side of his head. “Come on, give it to me.”

As if your body was his to do with as he pleased, he ripped your first orgasm out of you, his encouraging words bringing you over the edge, your muscles spasming around his knuckles and your chest on fire.

“Shit, Bucky. Oh—Oh my god, fuck.”

Your nails raked against his scalp, hips bucking up against his face, his mouth working you through your climax and out the other side. Hands splayed against your inner thighs, he pinned them down against the mattress, legs spread wide – everything on display for his greedy eyes.

“So wet for me, Baby.” He purred, tongue lapping up the slick from your thighs. “I think you can give me another one, what do you think hmm? Gonna suck that pussy so good, you’ll gimme another.”

His hot tongue blistered against your overworked clit once again, his fingers holding your pussy lips open, thighs clamped down beneath the weight of his hold.

He traced tiny circles with the pad of his thumb across your swollen bud, round and round until your head was spinning – his tongue flat against your cunt, dragging down over your perineum your ass cheeks tensing at the intrusion.

“You think I didn’t remember, Doll?” He teased, warmth spreading to your tight, puckered hole; the tight ring of muscle spasming at the sensation of his wet mouth pressing sloppy kisses around it. “I remember.”

The ministrations on your clit had you squirming, panting for breath as your stomach tightened – his mouth working your most private place. You could feel it, rising to the surface, washing over you in soft waves of bliss.

“Fuck, m’gonna come Buck…”

He didn’t let up, thrashing his tongue against your asshole, his thumb swiping back and forth at an unrelenting pace. You fell apart again, unable to hold in the guttural cry that wretched from your throat, your entire body shaking, buzzing.

It was as if you were floating, your spine boneless as you collapsed back against the mattress, soft kisses peppering their way up your tummy, a slow smile creeping onto your face as you fought to keep your eyes open.

Bucky kissed you then, the tenderest of affection, the salty-sweet taste of your spend on his tongue.

His cock bobbed against your labia, and you found yourself wondering when he’d managed to rid himself of his jeans, but you didn’t care long enough to think on it for too long.

“You still with me, Baby?”

Your eyes hooded, a lazy smirk etched upon your features, you nodded; his knuckles grazing lightly against your cheekbone while you counted the colours in his eyes. Every emotion that you’d pushed down was now well and truly floating on the surface, your body buzzing with post-orgasmic bliss.

Bucky hooked your leg up over his hip, one had grasping the base of his cock while he held himself up with the other. A gasp fell from your lips at the stretch, his ever-impressive length sliding home as if it was always meant to be there.

“Fuck, you feel so damn good.”

Your walls fluttered around him instantly, the slow, insistent rolls of his pelvis against yours ensuring that he hit the spot with every single thrust. You could feel every ridge, every vein -- it was as if his cock was made to fit you, to slot right in like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

“Bucky.”

He pinned your arms above your head then, Vibranium hand wrapped around both wrists, his hips undulating against your core as he filled you over, and over again until you were trembling.

His thrusts picked up, the flesh of your thighs rippling from the force of the impact, his open mouth breathing into yours.

“Jesus, I missed this. Missed you.”

Each nudge against your cervix had you wrecked, your hips lifting to crash against his own, the intensity of the passion thriving between the two of you palpable.

“Fuck, don’ know if I can last much longer. Need you to come for me, Doll. Come all over my cock, milk it for me.”

His filthy words had you crying out in euphoric bliss, the way his cock dragged against your swollen walls sending sparks of pleasure throughout your entire body, wracked by your third and most intense orgasm of the night.

Your eyes rolled back, toes curling, mouth falling open as you came silently – your throat dry from panting for breath, your wrists released from his grasp as he fell forward, his forehead resting between the valley of your breasts.

“Gonna come, Baby. Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

His pace slowed, sporadic jabs of his cock into your quivering core, his hot spend coating your walls and warming your insides. Your hand found its way into his short locks, fingertips grazing against his scalp, the overwhelming urge to comfort and look after him rising to the surface just like it had the first time.

You could stay like that forever; pieced together by tape and shiny words. For a moment, you lay there without a thought to the fact that you’d let it happen again, instead letting yourself fall into a dreamlike state where he was yours.

Though you knew deep down, he wasn’t yours to keep. Just like you would never be his, not really.

With a lazy smile he untangled himself from you, keeping you still flush against his bare form. You listened with a false hope as his breath steadied, chest rising and falling in sincerity with yours. You could have drifted off with him, but you knew better.

Your heart ached, unable to tear your eyes away from his face. He looked so peaceful like that. All the hard lines of his face softened and illuminated by the blue light of the moon, his pillowy lips relaxed, and those thick, long lashes fanned out across his cheeks.

You knew you couldn’t stay, couldn’t let yourself go through the same trauma twice. Sitting up slowly, knowing it would be easier to walk away without waking him, you crept out of bed.

Bending down to gather your discarded clothes, you bundled them in your arms, tip toeing towards his bedroom door.

“Where are you goin’, Doll?”

Your head lulled back, eyes clenched shut as you tried to find the words to tell him that you wouldn’t make the same mistake again, wouldn’t get sucked into the false hope that you meant more to him than all the others.

“Bucky—”

“Stay”

Turning on your heel, you looked back over at him sprawled out in the crisp white sheets, his icy blue eyes pleading with you.

“Bucky, I can’t do this again.” You breathed, your pulse thumping in your neck as you awaited his response.

“I lost you. Like a fucking idiot, I let you walk out of my life. Of all the stupid shit I’ve done, that’s gotta be at the top of the list.” His words made your chest tighten, hope and confusion swirling in your mind.

“Stay.”

“Please.”

How could you refuse him? It had always been there — that love that you’d felt. You’d shoved it down deep inside so you didn’t have to deal with the heartbreak of it walking out of your friendship, walking out on him.

But now, stood inches away from his bed, the way his hand reached out for your own, his fingers lacing through yours; you knew.

Bucky gave your fingers a gentle tug, your knees finding the firm mattress as you settled back in beside him. The cool sensation of metal wrapping around your waist, vibranium digits splayed out protectively across your stomach, you allowed yourself to just be.

No matter what your future held, whether Bucky Barnes was a permanent fixture or not, you’d let it be a night that would be forever etched in your memory.

One of those deep, soul-altering nights that a woman has only a few moments in her lifetime. A moment that, no matter what the outcome, would be buried in your heart for eternity.

His breath tickled the nape of your neck, the deep rumble in his chest letting you know that he was somewhere between conscious and dream.

“M’not lettin’ you go twice, Doll.”

[legends-of-apex]

The Jacket Thief

Robbie Reyes/Ghost Rider x Reader (18+)

Word Count: 1,700

Rating: 18+ (smut, car sex)

Summary: Having been craving him all day you decide that it's a good idea to steal Robbie's jacket when you meet him at the garage after work one day, knowing it's the very best way to push his proverbial buttons. It is. So is wearing very little other than said jacket whilst lounging on top of his precious car. Reader is presented as female.

A/N: If you’d like to be tagged in future Ghost Rider stuff (as I’m sure there will be more where this came from 💀) please feel free to let me know!

“Cariña, have you seen….” He trailed off when he saw you sprawled out on the hood of the charger wearing none other than,”… my jacket.”

He cursed under his breath at how good you looked. You were just sitting there waiting for him, his jacket wrapped around you as though you were a present with his name on it. Your legs were spread wide so he could see you only wore panties. You sat back on your elbows, your chest covered only by his jacket and nothing more. It hung open slightly, leaving the valley of your breasts exposed and he swore that was the best that jacket had ever looked. 

He wasn’t expecting such a lovely surprise to be waiting for him, least of all after hours in the dimly lit garage where he worked. 

You looked up at him beneath your lashes, relishing in how he couldn’t get enough of the sight of you like this, “Come and get it if you want it, baby.” You knew he’d be the one to lock up that night and that he’d have the place to himself. The perfect time for you to set your plan in motion once he went to get changed. 

He swallowed. Hard.

With wide eyes, he took in your appearance and silently thanked whatever god was listening for letting you walk into his life. “You really want to do it here? It’s not exactly the cleanest, chica.” He was looking at you over his nose as he slowly walked towards you, trying to seem casual and like he wasn’t at all imploding at the sight of you and the prospect of what came next. Seeing you in his jacket did something to him. It always had done. But seeing you wearing it in just your panties whilst you sat on top of his car? He would have toppled Rome if you’d asked.

As much as you knew this was a fantasy of his, you also knew he’d literally just finished work and was probably more tired than he’d ever admit, “If you don’t wanna, it’s cool. I can just take care of it myself.” By ‘it’ you of course meant your absolutely insatiable lust that day and as much as he would have loved to watch you deal with the issue yourself, there was a problem already growing in the confines of his jeans. 

When he finally reached you, placing a hand on the car’s hood on either side of you, you knew he was game and willing to do whatever the hell you wanted him to, “You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” You asked, but already knew the answer. 

You had him wrapped around your finger, tighter than a glove.

“You know I have,” he’d told you about it once and you’d listened, listened to every little detail he let out about his fantasy of fucking you in his jacket, “Gotta admit, it suits you.” He opened the jacket wide so your bare chest was exposed to him, the cool leather teasing your skin. A flash of orange made its way across his eyes as he looked at you before bringing his mouth down to your breasts. That meant he liked it too. You tried not to think about the demon being a passive on-looker to all this, to everything in Robbie’s life.

“Shit-“ you gasped as he took one nipple into his mouth and palmed the other. The harsh leather of his driving gloves was a sharp contrast to the softness of his warm tongue. He pulled back with a satisfied chuckle when you were getting really into it, his inclinations that you were strung about as high as a harp right now were correct. You must have really needed a good fuck to go to all this effort. He probably should have guessed based on the text you’d sent him earlier.

“You want it here?” He asked when he pulled away from your chest and let you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, bringing him as close to you as the car beneath would allow. You nodded once in affirmation, and he tugged your hips closer to his and brought you in for a kiss that left you breathless. Robbie’s kisses left you breathless more often than not with how passionate he was. With the way he poured his soul into you every time. But today he was especially fervent, it probably had something to do with the jacket.

“Baby, please…” you huffed as you both caught your breath, “I need you.” The desperation for his touch rippled throughout your body and straight to your pulsing core. And here was nothing in this world that got Robbie off more than knowing you were needy for him.

He loved to see you like this, to hear the desperation in your voice. Knowing he was the only one who could help ease your frustrations made his insides coil. “You want me that bad, huh?” He asked, and you didn’t miss the smile on his lips as he said it. He was proud that he’d gotten you in such a state. All it took was a lingering kiss to your neck before he left to take Gabe to school that morning and you’d been craving him ever since.

You released a quiet affirmation, your eyes pleading with him to take you, to give you what you desperately craved.

With a reassuring kiss to your forehead, he started undoing his belt and unzipping his fly. That was his way of telling him he had you, that he was going to take care of you and give you precisely what you craved.

“Come on baby, spread 'em wide for me.” 

It was a good thing you were already soaked through your panties. Robbie of course made sure you were ready for him, fingers delicately working through your folds once he’d torn the fabric from your hips. He was so turned on by your little display that he was much quicker to enter you than usual. Normally he’d take the time to caress every inch of your precious skin, to taste and savour you. He liked to take his time. But today you were both so needy and the garage didn’t exactly make for an intimate setting that something far quicker was called for.

Once you were comfortably wrapped around him, the pace he set was immediately relentless, working you open so you had to brace one hand around him and another on the car for balance. 

“God, you take me so good.” He groaned, running his fingers over your thighs.

You gasped, begging for more and he obliged you to the point where he grabbed handfuls of your hips as he slammed into you repeatedly, pointedly. Relishing the moans falling from your lips at finally getting what you’d been craving all day. 

Each groan that left him fell so close to your ear that you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound. He pressed kisses to the side of your head when he wasn’t praising you. His words got lost in a sea of obscene sounds.

“Lie back,” his voice was rough and strained, and it sounded so good you probably could’ve come just listening to it when it sounded like that. 

You obliged him, detangling yourself from him in favour of laying back on his car. You were grateful for the new position as it meant you could get a good look at him and he at you. He looked strained, he always did when he was inside you and you knew it was because he was holding back. If he didn’t hold back he’d likely split you in half with how strong he was with the demon inside him. And you caught glimpses of that strength sometimes, although only when you asked and even then he was so careful with you. You placed your hand on the base of his stomach, diving beneath his shirt just so you could feel the muscle that tensed and released as he rolled his hips forward.

The new angle gave him perfect access to your clit and he made sure to take advantage of that, tugging off one glove so he could tease your dewy folds with precision. 

“Shit- Robbie, I’m close” You reached forward to cling to him, face tucked right into the juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

“Come for me, baby. I’ve got you.” His voice was low, teasing the shell of your ear, “That’s it… just like that-“ he cut himself off with a groan as your walls clenched around him.

He pulled back away from you a little just to get a look at your face. Your eyes caught his, still glowing slightly orange, and you met together in a kiss. It wasn’t long before you were both finished and heaving, willing air to fill your desperate lungs. 

He kissed your face all over as you laughed until you caught his lips with yours once more. Then you just sat there for a moment, your foreheads resting against one another’s until you had to move. It was time to go home.

“Maybe I should steal your jacket more often?”  you suggested, looking over at him as he drove. His jacket still hung firmly around your shoulders, zipped up to cover your chest. He let you keep it for the drive home and he was going to have to pin you down to get it back later.

He laughed, a rare sound from him these days, “I wouldn’t make it a habit…” As he said it he took your hand in his before delicately bringing it to his lips, all whilst keeping his eyes on the road. With a gentle squeeze, he let your hand fall back to your lap but kept his there firmly at the curve of your thigh. The weight was comforting, a reminder of his affection and appreciation of you. Not that he’d ever let you forget it.

You covered his hand with your own and interlocked your fingers whilst his thumb continued to knead the softest of circles into your thigh. It was moments like these that made you fall in love with Robbie. His overwhelming gentleness despite the anguish he endured.

[sebstanns]

Deserve

Summary: You broach a tricky subject with Bucky. Recovering / soft Bucky x female reader. Angst / fluff / smut.

Warnings: 18+ for sexual content. Unprotected sex. Language.

A.N: I kept meaning to write for Steve but this happened. I usually write for Boyd Holbrook characters on my sideblog - Masterlist.

I didn’t tag anybody but let me know if you’d like to be, possibly a part 2 or a prequel to this. I’d like to thank @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook​ for her constructive feedback! It’s my first time writing for Bucky so please be kind!

Your heart skips a beat when you see Bucky waiting outside your office building, holding a bunch of flowers no less. He's awkwardly leaning against a wall, eyes darting around searching for you.

"You shouldn't have." You smile as you approach him.

"I was just passing." He murmurs, cheeks flushing as you kiss him.

"Passing a flower stall too?" You ask, accepting the blooms.

"Yeah, I guess so." He smiles.

"Mr Barnes, sorry to bother you." A voice pipes up. You turn and vaguely recognise the guy, you've seen him in the office building. What does he want with Bucky though?

Bucky eyes him warily. "Do I know you?"

"Oh no, I'm uh....I'm a big fan." the guy stammers, starting to sweat.

"So you're a fan of my work as the Winter Soldier or...”

"No no, I mean since then. Saving the world and everything."

"Sure, thanks." Bucky sighs.

You kind of feel for the guy, Bucky wasn't exactly known for accepting compliments, you know that better than anyone.

"Hey, can I get a selfie?" the guy asks, pulling out his phone.

"He's off duty, sorry." You say diplomatically, taking Bucky’s arm. "Let's get going."

"I'll never get used to that, " Bucky mumbles, as you steer him away from his fan. "I spent so much effort trying to hide and now..." He trails off.

"You saved the world, that's what people know you for now." You say, determined to put a positive spin on things.

"It wasn't just me." He says, as you cross the street. He moves his arm and grabs your hand instead, squeezing lightly. He's wearing gloves as is usual in public, concealing his gleaming hand in black leather.

You fall into a companionable silence as you head in the direction of your apartment. You can't help noticing that you're taking the route that happens to pass Bucky's favourite diner - where you first met in fact, a little over four months ago.

"Feel like coffee and pie?" He asks casually.

You grin at his predictability. "Sure."

Your flowers sit on the table in a kindly donated water jug as you and Bucky tuck into pie and ice cream, apple and cherry respectively.

"This...is...the...best...pie." Bucky says between mouthfuls.

"I knew you were going to say that." You tease.

He smiles, his eyes twinkling and crinkling at the corners. Oh, he seems so happy and relaxed, you impulsively decide to broach a tricky subject, figuring now to be a good a time as any.

"So, you know my sister's getting married in a couple of weeks." You begin, glancing at him as you toy with your food.

Bucky's eyes flicker and he fills his mouth with pie. "Hm-hmm." He mumbles.

You take a deep breath. "Well, I was wondering if you'd consider coming with me, as my plus one?"

He pales a little and offers a tentative smile. "I don't know sweetheart."

"Clare wants to meet you, that's all. You don't even have to stay for the full day, just to say hello."

"Sounds more like a family thing." Bucky says tightly, shifting in his seat.

"Well yeah," you swallow, feeling yourself flush. "But you are my....I mean..."

He sighs. "I don't think it's a good idea, you saw what happened outside your office. Imagine that times a hundred."

"Everyone will be focused on the wedding, my family won't bug you, I promise. They aren’t like that.”

Bucky scoffs. “You might be surprised how brave people get after a couple glasses of champagne.”

You sigh impatiently, feeling something inside you break. "What are we doing here Bucky?"

"I thought we were eating pie." He half-smiles.

"You know what I mean. Us." You hated to push him like this, you really did, and you already knew that he wouldn’t react favourably to it, but your developing relationship had seemed to come to a standstill lately.

"We agreed to take things slowly, didn’t we? One day at a time." He says quietly, reaching for your hand.

"But that was four months ago, I thought that we might have progressed beyond that by now. It's like one step forward two steps back with you." You say, your voice cracking with emotion.

"You're not my shrink, ok?" He snaps suddenly.

You slide your hand away from his and reach for your bag, tears forming in your eyes.

"I'm going home." You say softly..

"Don't go, please. I'm sorry." He says, looking up at you, a note of quiet desperation in his voice.

"Enjoy your pie." You sniff, not looking at him. You’re halfway home before you realise that you've left the flowers on the table.

X - X - X

By the time you get home you're angry with yourself more than anything else, cursing the fact that you even mentioned the wedding. You had agreed to take things slowly, but the truth is that you’re falling for Bucky and you want him to be a bigger part of your life. The wedding seemed like the ideal opportunity to introduce him to your friends and family, but on reflection, you realise how overwhelming it might be.

Half an hour later when there's a knock at the door, you know that it's Bucky. He's carrying the flowers, still in the water jug.

"The waitress said we could have this, I think she just felt sorry for me." He chuckles dryly, following you into the living room.

You can’t help but smile at the image of him walking down the street with the flowers.

"I'm sorry." You murmur, setting the flowers on your coffee table.

"Why are you sorry? I was a jerk back there." Bucky frowns.

"I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

"You weren't pushing." He sighs.

"I spooked you.” You say softly, looking up at him.

"Yeah." He smiles. "A little. Look, I’m still trying to figure this out."

"I know. Me too. I've never been in a relationship like this."

"I should hope not." He says wryly.

You chuckle, fighting the urge to just throw youself into his arms.

"I like you, so much." Bucky murmurs, his eyes searching yours as he strokes your face. "But I can't help thinking that you'd be better off with someone else."

Your stomach drops. "No, Bucky-”

"I mean like someone who doesn't get spooked when you want to do regular relationship stuff, it's not fair on you." He says, brow furrowed.

"Look, forget the wedding, I'll ask one of my friends to come."

"It's not just the wedding though is it?" He sighs.

“I don’t want anybody else.” You state firmly, placing your hand on his chest - you can feel his ever present dog tags through the thin material of his sweater.

"You've been so patient with me, it's more than I deserve."

"This is what you deserve." You say, and kiss him gently on the cheek. "And this." then corner of his mouth. "And this." finally the hollow of his throat.

He lets out a soft groan and grips the nape of your neck, kissing you deeply, opening your mouth with his tongue. He tastes of cherry and vanilla, his lips soft but insistent.

"I want you." He breathes. "I want you."

Without a word, you take his hand and lead him to the bedroom. Bucky was so gentle and hesitant when you first started sleeping together, terrified of hurting you with his strength and self-conscious of his arm. You managed to convince him that you could take - even sometimes desired - a little roughness. He loved to take his time undressing you, kissing and touching your soft flesh as he went. And when you reciprocated, he'd been touch starved for so long that the feeling of your hands and lips on him was almost enough.

Tonight he didn't deviate, pulling off your clothes and kissing you everywhere as you laid on the bed. He hovers over you, still half dressed, and you stroke his hair, fingers entwined in the short strands as his lips travel down your body, making you squirm. Finally he kneels between your legs and tugs at your panties, eyes dark with lust.

"James." You sigh, touching yourself, wetness coating your fingertips.

"You're so beautiful." He says gruffly, eyes focused on you as he removes his jeans. You'd seen him naked a number of times now but you never failed to be impressed by his magnificence, even his cock, now hard and leaking at the tip, is a thing of beauty.

You hold your hand out for him to return to the bed but his hands reach for your waist, indicating for you to turn over; you comply and he moves behind you, lifting your hips and pushing into you in one swift movement. You cry out as he fills and stretches your pussy, digging your fingers into the mattress as you back up against him.

"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" He growls.

"Yes, please...don't stop." You mewl, as he buries his cock to the hilt.

Bucky’s flesh hand is between your legs, fingering your aching clit, while his metal one still grips your hip. You place your hand over his, interlacing your fingers with his vibranium digits.

The rhythmic clink of Bucky's dog tags and the sound of your soft cries fill the air, he continues to work your clit in tight circles as he moves inside you, leaning down to pepper kisses on your shoulder - it isn't long before you feel the familiar tightness building at your core.

"Oh, Bucky, I'm going to-" you trail off as he drives into you harder, making you come apart and you moan loudly as your orgasm rolls through you in hot waves.

Compared to you, Bucky's almost silent, quietly panting and groaning, his hold on you tightening as you feel him throbbing into you.

Afterwards he spoons you, his bionic arm around your waist like a vice, kissing your hair.

"Look, about the wedding-" He starts.

"We don't have to talk about it now." You yawn. “Let’s leave it until tomorrow. One day at a time.”

“One day at a time.” Bucky repeats, softly.

[lostinthewiind]

Hi!!! I just wanted to say that I freaking love your cherry X Joe X Reader poly series! And its actually got me into the anime!!! I was actually wondering if you want to, write one where the female! Reader is being stalked and harassed by a co-worker at her job and she didn't want to tell Joe and cherry because she doesn't want them to worry about her too much because they already have so much on their plates. But one day, the two of them decide to pick up the her up to surprise her, flowers and everything. And they see the co-worker harassing their lover and it's up to you to determine how they would react? Can also plz make were the three of them are engaged?

Polyamorous Relationship w/ Joe & Cherry: Your Problems, My Problems, Our Problems

A/N: first of all, I'm so honoured to hear that I got you into anime :) Secondly, I can already feel that this request is going to be fun to write! I'll make sure to add an engagement fic to the series soon as well because I've been meaning to anyway. So happy that so many people seem to really like this series as much as I do.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: stalking, predatory behaviour, slightly angsty, profanity, someone who does NOT drink their 'respect women' juice

"Awh, come on, Sweetheart." Your coworker slipped into the elevator with you at the last second despite your desperate attempt to escape him at the end of the day. "Just one drink and then I'll never ask again."

You clenched your fist by your side on the opposite side of him so he wouldn't see. Mustering all of your strength, you forced a fake smile. "Sorry, I can't tonight. I've got plans with my boyfriend."

You had been dropping these not-so-subtle hints that you absolutely were not interested for months on end by now, but your coworker was either completely blinded by his persistence or was willingly ignoring them in favour of achieving his goal.

At first, when you had transferred to his floor at the company building, he had come across as nothing more than a kind mentor offering to show you the ropes. But then, bit by bit, he got pushier. 'Get to know your coworkers' dinners soon turned to just the two of you alone at a bar, which quickly turned into a situation that you found uncomfortable and ever since then, you had turned down all of his advances.

In the beginning, you had tried to make your excuses believable and turn him down nicely since he was above you in the company, but as the weeks passed and he still didn't seem to get the message, your responses got shorter and less believable. Now he was asking you out pretty much every day, multiple times a day. Sometimes he would even follow you to your car to make sure you were going home just like you said you were.

You weren't sure when it had happened, exactly, but things had gone from annoying to anxiety-inducing seemingly overnight and you had no idea what to do about it.

"You always mention this 'boyfriend' of yours," he used air quotes to make it clear that he didn't believe you, "but I've never seen him. Sure you aren't lying just to get me to go away?"

You chuckled nervously, hoping to come up with a quick answer to satisfy him for the night so that he wouldn't feel the need to tail you to your car. "No, of course not. He just has a busy work schedule as well. You know how it is."

He eyed you sternly, his gaze almost piercing. "Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight."

As soon as the elevator doors slid open on the main floor of the building, he gave a wave and exited before you and headed for the front doors. Slowly, you followed him out, and as soon as you saw him disappear into the darkness of the night, you exhaled shakily and took a moment to regain your composure.

You honestly didn't know how you managed to seem so calm and collected around him on the daily considering your heart always pounded ruthlessly against your rib cage whenever you saw him.

Once you were fully composed again, you made your way to your car as fast as possible and drove back home, knowing that seeing Joe and Cherry would immediately make you feel better; not that they knew their presence was something you relied on at the end of the day because you refused to tell them.

At first, you kept it to yourself because it seemed harmless and you didn't want them to overreact and blow up at nothing, but then, as it got worse, it just seemed like the time to tell them had passed. And the last thing you wanted to do was worry them when they both already had exhausting work lives as well.

You simply didn't want to be a burden. You were sure they dealt with annoying coworkers as well and they didn't feel the need to bother you with those stupid little problems, so you wouldn't either.

Walking through the front door of your shared apartment, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders at the sight of Cherry at his desk and Joe sitting on the couch with the television playing some show on low volume. 

“I’m home,” you announced with a weary, but genuine, smile on your face. Before either of your boyfriends could utter a response, you had kicked off your shoes, made your way over to the couch, and curled up next to Joe with your face buried in his neck. His hair was wet, indicating he had just gotten out of the shower, and the smell of his shampoo and body wash calmed you instantly.

“Hey.” Joe wrapped an arm around you as he shared a quizzical look with Cherry. Usually, you would get changed, shower, and eat something before even thinking about relaxing for the night. “Everything okay?”

Realizing that you had basically announced that everything was not, in fact, okay with your unusual actions, you froze for a second. You contemplated just coming clean about everything right then and there, but before you could make a decision, the words “I’m fine” were spilling from your mouth.

“Just a long and exhausting day at work,” you followed up your lie with some details, not they they were technically false as it had been a long and exhausting day . . . just not for the reasons they thought. “I’ve been thinking about coming home to you two ever since my alarm went off this morning. Just one of those days.”

The sweet smiles that dawned Joe’s and Cherry’s faces proved that they believed you. “You hungry?” Joe pressed a kiss to your temple. “I brought home some leftovers from work again.”

Your eyes lit up and Joe chuckled. “Really?” You found yourself forgetting about your troubles in the blink of an eye. 

“Really really.” Joe nodded. “I can heat some up for you if you want to shower and get changed.”

Pulling a dramatically emotional face, you faked a sniffle. “You’re the best, you know that?” You planted a big kiss to his lips before heading for the bedroom and stopping in the doorway. “You’re the best too, Kaoru,” you added for good measure so your other boyfriend didn’t feel left out before vanishing into the bedroom. 

You heard Cherry scoff amusingly in the background, but by then you were in too good of a mood to throw something snarky back at him and were determined to enjoy the moment because you knew that this good feeling would disappear as soon as you started work again in the morning. 

But for now, you could enjoy the comforts of your home and the two people you loved most in the world.

                                              ━━━━━━━━

As you finished your work for the day and got ready to head home, overjoyed that it was the last night you would have to work overtime for a while, you were surprised that you had managed to get through the day with little interaction or pestering from your coworker.

You didn’t want to jinx yourself or anything, but for a brief moment the thought that he had finally given up crossed your mind. Out of the corner of your eye, you scanned the office for him but he was nowhere to be seen. Sighing in relief, you gathered your things and made a bee-line for the elevator.

For once, you had managed to get through an entire day without being cornered and asked out for the millionth time. 

As the elevator doors opened and you stepped out into the lobby, you spotted two familiar faces waiting for you at the front doors and you felt your heart swell with excitement. You had expected both your boyfriends to be busy tonight with work, the same as you were, so seeing them both standing there, waiting for you with flowers in hand, was a welcomed surprised.

Thinking that today was actually a good day for once, you rose your hand to wave with a grin on your face, a feeling of freedom and joy spreading through you  . . . that was until you felt a hand clasp down on your shoulder. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Immediately, your good mood had vanished.

Slowly, you lowered your hand—your smile fading in the process—and turned around to face your coworker. 

“Thought you could get away without me noticing?” His grin was wide and toothy, like a predator showing off its fangs to prove how powerful it was. He didn’t pay any mind to Joe or Cherry, which meant that he either didn’t know they were there for you or didn’t care. 

“I’m actually in a bit of a hurry.” You gestured over to your boyfriends, hoping that the realization that your significant other was real would finally be enough to scare him off. “I’ve got plans.”

He glanced Joe and Cherry’s way briefly, but it did nothing to deter him. “Oh, so you do actually have a boyfriend. Which one is he?”

You swallowed hard. Usually, explaining the whole polyamory thing was too time-consuming so you told people you had a boyfriend and left it at that. “It’s, well . . . um . . .”

Before you were forced to answer, Joe and Cherry had noticed your discomfort from across the lobby and started making their way over. The look in Joe’s eyes gave away that he was none too pleased that your male coworker still had his hand on your shoulder. 

“This must be one of your coworkers,” Cherry was the first to speak, extending his hand politely to your coworker. “Nice to meet you.”

Your coworker used his free hand to shake Cherry’s while Joe just grunted in disapproval. In a desperate attempt to escape the situation without causing a scene, you tried to shift closer to Joe but were stopped by your coworker’s hand clamping down harder on your shoulder. 

“We’re the boyfriends.” Joe’s grip tightened around the bouquet of flowers he was holding as he reached out, wrapped an arm around your waist, and pulled you away from your coworker and toward him. 

“Boyfriends? As in plural?” Your coworker tilted his head at you quizzically. “You never told me you had two boyfriends.”

“I never-” you started, but you were quickly cut off.

“I’m a little surprised you’re real,” your coworker said, somehow seemingly completely unfazed. “I was seriously beginning to believe she was making you up to avoid going out with me.”

You shook your head and chuckled nervously, something you found yourself doing around him a lot in order to keep the mood light. “I would never lie to you. It’s just busy schedules is all, like I said yesterday.”

“Going out with you?” Cherry cocked a brow and crossed his arms over his chest. “The woman tells you she has a boyfriend and you still insist on asking her out?”

Your coworker just laughed. “Well we used to go out all the time when she first switched departments. I thought she was just playing hard to get but I guess not.”

Both Joe and Cherry turned to you, glimmers of confusion in their eyes. “You used to go out?” Joe asked, concerned that they had just found out you had been cheating on them. 

“No!” you blurted out. “Well, I mean, yes, but it was as a group of coworkers. Never just the two of us.”

“Never?” your coworker repeated. “What about those times at the bar? Did you seriously forget? That hurts my feelings, you know.”

You felt your cheeks flush red and your heart begin to pound. Suddenly, you had been backed into a corner by your past self’s naive kindness. “I didn’t know it was going to be just the two of us until I showed up,” you stated quietly. “You lied to me to get me to go.”

“Is that true?” Joe placed a finger under your chin and lifted your head to get you to look him in the eyes. You could tell he wasn’t accusing you of anything, only looking for answers.

You nodded, finally feeling brave enough to tell the truth with your boyfriends by your side. “Once I realized he was after something more, I started turning down his propositions. Then he started asking me every day . . . then he started following me to my car,” you whispered the last part, worried about what might happen if your coworker heard you say that part. “Can we please leave now?”

Noticing that your hands were shaking and your bottom lip was quivering, Joe instantly knew that you were telling the truth; no one would ever be so terrified to tell a lie like this. “Yes, of course, we can leave now.” He held you closer. “Whatever you want.”

“So you’re gonna lie and make me look like the bad guy here?” your coworker huffed, truly playing the victim card to the fullest. “I’m the asshole because I wanted to buy you a few drinks and get to know you better?”

“No, you’re the asshole for continuing to pursue her when she clearly told you no,” Cherry snapped, now just as angry as Joe was, maybe even more. “She’s kind and, because of that, probably turned you down nicely—too nicely—and you took advantage of that . . . you fucking prick.”

Your eyes widened with disbelief. Usually, Cherry was the one to remain calm in stressful or aggravating situations, but apparently not this time. You rarely heard him curse or snap, let alone at someone he met for the first time five minutes ago. 

Reaching out, you grabbed hold of Cherry’s hand and squeezed lightly to catch his attention. “I really think we should leave now,” you told him. 

Drawing in a deep breath and collecting himself, Cherry agreed. “Yes, you’re right, we should. We have dinner plans and it would be a waste to miss them on account of this asshole.”

“Fine, have it your way.” Your coworker finally seemed to give in, but not without hurling a few insults your way first, of course. “I shouldn’t have wasted my time on someone like you anyway. What, two boyfriends is perfectly fine but three is crossing a line? Give me a fucking break. Slut.”

You saw the rage bubbling up in both Joe and Cherry, but before they had the chance to do anything about it, your coworker had turned his nose up at the three of you, pushed his way past, and exited the building. 

As soon as he was completely out of sight, they both turned to you and you felt the tears begin to well in your eyes; not necessarily because you were sad or angry, but because you were so relieved that the truth had finally come out and your coworker had finally been dealt with. 

“I’m so sorry,” you spoke through gentle sobs, trying to calm down all the while. “I should have told you two about him when it all first started but I just didn’t want to burden you two with an issue that seemed so . . . so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Joe pulled you in for an almost bone-crushing hug. “You said he was following you to your car. That’s not stupid. You must have been so scared.”

“You should have told us,” Cherry agreed. “Now that I know you were dealing with that all by yourself for months, it makes me feel like a bad boyfriend. I should have picked up on the signs, like when you came home completely drained last night. I wish we could have helped you sooner.”

Wiping away your tears, you drew in a deep breath. “Thank you for coming tonight and for telling him off. I just hope he doesn’t pull anything at work tomorrow . . . he is technically my superior.”

“If he tries anything, and I mean anything, you tell us right away. Okay?” Joe insisted. “From now on, no more secrets because you want to protect us or don’t want to burden us. Your problems are our problems.”

You nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank us. It’s our job to keep you safe and be there for you.” Cherry kissed your cheek softly. “Now, I’m starving so let’s go eat, yeah?”

Suddenly, you remembered just how hungry you were. “Yes, dinner sounds lovely.”

“Speaking of lovely, these are for you.” Joe handed you the bouquet of flowers—now with slightly smushed stems from his previous anger—that he had brought. 

“They are beautiful.” You took them happily and gave them a smell, the floral scent bringing your nerves down a little. “You two seriously are the best, you know that?”

“We know.”

[sunrisefairy]

red cheeks and sunsets

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: George has been pining over Y/N for far too long and Fred decides to give his twin a little push. 

A/N: I love reading about Georgie so I thought I’d get back into writing and write a really fluffy oneshot about my fav. I hope you like it, I’m a bit rusty but if you wanna request anything please do :)) love you all 

“Seriously George, do you realise how creepy you’re being right now. You’ve been staring at the poor gal for 10 minutes.” Fred’s voice brings George out of his trance, okay it might have been the carrot Fred threw which hit George right in the forehead.

“I’m not staring” George mumbles, tearing his eyes away from Y/N reluctantly and at his dinner.

“No of course you’re not” the other twin states with an eye roll.

George can’t help it you see; the staring, the daydreaming, the embarrassing stuttering and nerves he feels whenever she is near or even in the same room as him. The redhead has had an immense crush on Y/N L/N for a year, too scared to say or do anything about it. No that he hasn’t tried to let her know about his feelings but each time he’s stood in front of her he is unable to speak and forgets everything prior to that moment, it’s a wonder he hasn’t passed out during his attempts. As soon as George looks into her eyes, those breath-taking, incredible eyes, nothing else registers in his brain. How can one be expected to think when looking as something so beautiful?

So, George decides it is easier to just admire from afar, to try and salvage whatever is left of his ego. He tells himself he’s fine with Y/N not knowing, he’s okay with sending shy smiles her way and imagining how it would feel to wrap his arms around the girl and kiss those perfect lips. He doesn’t think his heart could take the rejecting because at least this way he can pretend Y/N likes him back.

Fred groans, “mate just tell her” George interrupts him with a laugh. “No I’m serious, just walk up to her and say ‘Y/N I like you’, 4 words. That’s it.”

George stares down at his plate pushing food around with his fork and sighs “Fred, it’s not like I haven’t tried. I end up sounding like a stuttering idiot cos I can’t get the words out; I can’t get any words out. Plus, there’s no way she likes me back, I mean look at her” George’s eyes find their way back to Y/N, who is sitting with her friends, laughing “why in the world would she like someone like me, she’s stunning”

“Yeah you’re right, she’s a straight 10 and you’re a 6 at best” Fred answers with a chuckle.

George gives his twin a little shove with his shoulder, “thanks man, I appreciate the support.”

~~~

Fred has had enough of George’s pining; he can’t seem to get much out of George if Y/N is around. It’s like George gets tunnel vision and all he sees is Y/N and everything else around him fades away. Fred does think its sweet seeing how infatuated his twin is with the girl, he just wishes George would muster up the courage to tell Y/N how he feels. Maybe then George will be able help with the planning of some new pranks.

Fred and George are walking down the hall back to the common room one night when a familiar H/C haired girl turns the corner and walks their way.

George almost trips when he sees her but Fred nudges him upright.

“Hey boys,” Y/N smiles at them, eyes landing on George “hey George.”

Fred smirks, hearing that George got a second greeting, hoping he’ll at least say something.

Y/N is still staring at George hoping for a reply, George doesn’t seem to say much around her. She isn’t sure why. Yeah George is the more ‘quieter’ one of the duo but he still has an outgoing and loud personality. A few times Y/N has caught herself admiring George and a smile would always creep onto her face seeing him joking and laughing with his friends.

“H-hey” George all but whispers back, his cheeks feel like they are on fire and that his whole body might combust under Y/N’s gaze.

Fred wraps his lanky arm around George’s shoulder “Hello dear Y/N, you look very beautiful this fine afternoon, don’t you think Georgie?”

George almost chokes at Fred’s comment “Er- I guess so, I mean-um, y-yeah you do.”

If George wasn’t staring at the floor silently hoping a hole would appear and swallow him up, he might have seen Y/N’s face turn a light tint of pink.

“Oh, well thank you” Y/N giggles, “I guess I should get going. It was nice to see you both, bye George” Y/N waves and continues down the hall with a small skip in her step.

As soon as Y/N is around the corner, George groans into his hands, why is it so difficult for him to form sentences around her.

Fred just laughs, “you truly have it bad bud, but don’t worry, Freddie is here to help.”

George just groans louder; he isn’t sure Fred will be much help.

~~~

George finds himself running up to the astronomy tower later that week, Fred had left a note on his pillow saying to meet him ASAP so they can set up for a prank, it sounded pretty urgent, the note stated if he was even a minute late Fred would spill his secrets to Y/N. So, here George was racing through the halls to try and make it there on time, everyone was at dinner, so the halls were pretty empty which worked in George’s favour. Out of breath, George finally makes it to the astronomy tower stairs, taking 2 steps at a time he jogs up.

“Bloody hell Fred, I swear you just wanna make me-“Georges words disappear into the air as he reaches the top of the stairs.

Y/N is leaning against the railing staring out at the sunset, she turns her head to face George.

“Sorry to disappoint Georgie, but I’m not Fred” she giggles.

Godric, George thinks her giggle is the most magical sound in the world, he’d do anything to hear it again.

“S’ okay…” George trails off, he’s going to kill Fred later.

They stand in silence for a few moments, “Isn’t the sky so beautiful tonight?” Y/N breathes turning to look at the orange painted sky.

George can’t help but stare at this absolute goddess in front of him, the fiery sunset glows against Y/N’s face, he takes a small step closer to her hoping to memorise the way the sun beams against her soft skin. He wonders what it would feel like to caress her cheek, surely all his troubles would wash away the moment he has her delicate face in his hands. He glances down at her lips, he wishes he could just grab her face and kiss her right here, somehow try and show her how much she means to him.

George doesn’t realise words have left his mouth until it’s too late “Merlin, you are beautiful.” Georges eyes widen, did he actually just say that?

Y/N, surprised, turns to face him and it’s like a faucet in his brain has been turned on and he can’t stop the words coming out of his mouth, everything he’s ever wanted to say to Y/N is pouring out before he can control himself.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Not that its not true! Because it is, you’re beautiful, you’re amazing actually. The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. So beautiful in fact, you make me forget how to breath actually. Whenever I’m around you, I get all nervous and don’t know what to say. Like how do you tell the most beautiful girl in the world that you’ve had a crush on them for a year” George takes a breath, Y/N doesn’t say anything, not that she really had time to, George took her millisecond of silence as rejection and kept speaking. “Merlin, I can’t believe I just said that. It’s okay that you don’t feel the same way, I don’t blame you. I’m so sorry, let’s just forget-“

George doesn’t get to finish the end of that sentence, Y/N had grabbed his face and lightly pressed their lips together.

Startled, George doesn’t know what to do, his brain is going wild he thinks he might have a head attack with how fast his heart is beating, surely this is a dream. But when Y/N’s arms snake around his neck it pulls him back to reality. George moves his hands to Y/N’s hips and deepens the kiss.

Y/N tastes of a mixture of pure heaven and cotton candy, George thinks he’s floating away when he feels Y/N play with his hair at the base of his neck, a soft moan escaping from his mouth.

They eventually pull apart and George keeps his eyes closed, worried if he opens them, he’ll find that he’s actually in his bed and this was just an insanely good dream.

“Georgie, open your eyes” Y/N’s hands are back on George’s cheeks.

George slowly opens his eyes and finds his favourite pair staring back at him.

“Wow” is all he manages.

Y/N just giggles, “If you can’t tell, I like you too. Like a lot. Fred actually told me to meet you here, he said you had something important to tell me. I’m glad you finally said something.”

“Me too because I’d really like to kiss you again” Y/N laughs and presses her lips to Georges sweetly.

George smiles, finally gaining the confidence to say a sentence he never thought he’d be able to form around Y/N. “Y/N do you think maybe- I mean would you maybe want to be my girlfriend?”

“Of course, George Weasley, I’d love to” Y/N replies.

“FINALLY!” a voice erupts from the stairs.

“What the hell?” George questions as he turns around to try and find the culprit, his hand not leaving Y/N’s waist. “Fred?”

Fred emerges from the stairs with a goofy grin on his face.

“Have you been hiding there the whole time? Go away you perv!” George chuckles, reaching for his wand.

“Alright, no need for that” Fred holds his hands up in defence “I just needed to make sure my plan worked and it looks like it did so you can thank me later. Maybe at your wedding.” Fred winks.

“Go away!” George shouts. “I’ll hex you if I have to’

“Okay I’m going, I’m going. No funny business up here though” Fred quickly adds before running down the stairs, narrowly avoiding the jinx George sent his way.

“I’m so sorry about him” George says looking back at Y/N.

Y/N smiles “it’s okay, I guess without him I wouldn’t be able to kiss you anytime I want now.”

The redhead laughs, “yeah, I guess I am grateful for that but not that I’m ever going to tell him” George leans down and kisses Y/N once more, unable to control the smile breaking onto his face.

He finally got the girl, his girl.

[jawabear]

Marcus Moreno NSFW Alphabet

Not my GIF

A/N: You know I had to write one for this boy. It would be wrong not too. As with the others, these are just my interpretations of his character and may differ to yours, but please be respectful of others’ views. Hope you enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: smut

Warnings: fem!hero!reader, mentions of sex, but nothing explicitly described, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: An A-Z of Marcus Moreno’s bedroom antics...

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Marcus is such a kind man. He’ll make sure you’re okay. And he’ll make sure you don’t need anything before pulling you into his arms if you’re in bed. If you’re else were, he’ll still make sure you’re alright, making you look perfect before you get to where ever you’re meant to be.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you, he finds your neck irresistible. Other than your lips, it’s his favourite thing to kiss. He loves to mark it with bites that show everyone you belong to him. He loves to bury his face into your neck while he fucks you, he loves the way your fingers feel in his hair when he does.

On him, he’s rather fond of his arms and his tights (so am I). Mainly because he likes it when you grip his arms when he fucks you, and he loves when you ride his thighs. It’s one of his favourite things, and you always seem to enjoy yourself when you make yourself come on his thighs.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves to come on you. Over your breasts, your stomach...

And he loves to come in your mouth, he loves to see you swallow his come.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Before you two got together, and after his wife died, he would find him self in need of release. And being one of Heroics as well, there were many clips of you online doing awesome super hero things. He loved watching those. He loved watching the way you moved. The way your muscles flexed. The way you beat up the bad guys so effortlessly. And it was so sexy. He’d watch them in the dead of night while getting himself off. But he doesn’t know if he should ever tell you, because it is a little weird.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I mean, he’s got a kid. Clearly he knows what he’s doing.

He certainly does know what he’s doing. He knows where exactly to touch you to make you feel good before you even know.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He’s a big fan of the classic missionary because he can see your face and kiss you as well as being able to hold your hands which is a big thing that he likes to do.

He also loves when you are on top. Riding him, facing him or not or riding his thighs. He also loves 69......

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He can be more funny then serious depending on his mood and the circumstances for the sex. He likes to enjoy it and wants to make sure you are enjoying it as well so if he needs to make you laugh he will. But he is mostly serious when it comes to sex.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s pretty neat down there. It seems he takes more care of his hair down there than he does on his face or his head.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Marcus is a very romantic person. He wants to make sure you are happy. He wants to make sure you know how much he loves and worships you. So he will do whatever he can to put those points across to you as he makes love to you. This would usually be by kissing you for an extended amount of time or just simply telling you how much he loves and adores you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

As stated before, in the time he was on his own, he would jack off quite a lot at night or in the shower (mostly to the thought of you). But now, less so. He’ll still do it on the odd occasion, say if your out on hero business, but you’re usually there to help him out if he needs it.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He wants to be your hero. So he’s a big fan of role play. He loves when you decided to put yourself “in danger” for him to have to come and rescue you. Or you acting as someone who is evil and he has to stop you...and punish you.

And he has a slight weapons kink. He would never hurt you with the blade but something about seeing you with his katanas and nothing else drives him mad.

And I’m not saying he has a daddy kink, but I wouldn’t put it past him....

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Bedroom. Or the shower. He doesn’t really have a preference between the two. But he’ll go anywhere as long as you are comfortable and happy.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

A lot of things came get him going. The main ones being when you are in your hero uniform or when your fingers with lightly brush over any part of him.

But mostly the uniform. Definitely the uniform. Yours or his....

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

As much as he loves the role play and the weapons, he’d never actually use it to draw blood or cause you any sort of discomfort.

And he wouldn’t want to have sex in a public setting where people could see. He’s not so much against say touching you under the table or what ever, but if it came down to him having to fuck you in front of someone he wouldn’t do it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Marcus loves to be between your legs. He’ll eat you out at any given moment. He’s all about pleasing you. And he loves the way you squeak, moan and whimper as he eats you. As well as the way you grab at him to hold his head closer to you.

But he’s an absolute sucker for you sucking him off. As mentioned, he loves to watch you swallow his come. And he loves the feeling of your mouth and tongue on him. You can easily turn him into mush the second your tongue touches his dick.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s kind of in the middle. He can be both extremes (favouring slow and sensual) but he falls some where in between. He’s not exactly slow, but he’s not exactly fast. But somehow it’s the perfect balance that gives you the best orgasms of your life.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’s not too against them. Sometimes that’s what it will have to be, what with his job and Missy being around.

Sometimes it will have to be a quick fuck in the supply cupboard at HQ. Or a quick one in the kitchen before Missy comes down for breakfast.

But he much prefers to take his time with you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He used to risk his life every day fighting the dangers of the world, and that mentality does transfer to the bedroom.

If you want to try something, he’ll do it. Unless it’s super dangerous or really really risky.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s not a young as he used to be so he can’t go for that many rounds. In a row that is. If you spaced them out over the days he could got for quite a few. But in a row he’s good for about two.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s never really needed them so he’s never really owned any. But when you brought your trusty little purple vibrator to the party, he grew embarrassingly fond of it. He loves to watch you use it on yourself and he loves using it on you while he eats you out, making you scream. And he likes it when you use it on him, teasing him with it or taking him all the way.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He not necessarily a tease with actions, more with faces or words. He’ll constantly be whispering dirty things into your ear whenever he gets the chance and he’ll send you sexy looks or winks from across the room. He’s very good at getting you worked up with our having to touch you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

With Missy in the house, it’s very much hush hush. For multiple reasons that are pretty obvious. But when she’s gone, he doesn’t hold back. He lets out every sound he had to hold in. He’s not exactly loud, he just makes a lot of noises. But they’re amazing to listen too.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Marcus does find it difficult to make the first move. Even when he does, when just charges at you or something, he will always backtrack or stop to ask you if you want it. You will always want him and you’ve told him that on many occasions but it doesn’t seem to stick in his head. He’s just too sweet to let the beast inside him run free for once.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s pretty decent. He’s longer than he is thick but he’s perfect for you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

To be fair, it’s not all that high. He has a lot on his plate and sex is usually quite far down the list. He’s so busy all the time that he barely even has time for sex. Which is kind of sad and annoying for both you and him, but most of the time you’re pretty busy as well.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

His mind never stops so he finds it difficult to sleep full stop. But sex always seems to relax him enough to make him feel comfortable in getting some sleep. But he is a very light sleeper. And he won’t fall asleep until he has checked you are okay and he’s given the house a once over to make sure everything was locked and everything was where it should be. He’ll take a quick peek into Missy’s room to make sure she is okay before he comes back to bed and eventually falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms.

28/12/20

Taglist: @linkpk88​

[eclipsedpascal]

Making Daddy Proud

Stepdad!Duncan x Female Reader

After moving in with your estranged mother and her new husband, Duncan Shepherd, you started to grow very close to your new stepdad. The two of you had a great relationship and he was doing his best to be a good father figure for you, knowing you missed your dad so much. But there was a problem, you found yourself insanely attracted to him and were starting to notice little things indicating he might feel the same way.

Warnings: very inappropriate relationships, Stepfather/stepdaughter relationship, Cheating is ofc implied, 20+ year age gap, daddy kink, unprotected sex (but I kinda imagined the reader to be on birth control so is okie😌) fingering (female receiving), choking, vaginal sex, oral (male receiving) and face fucking😃

Notes: Okie sooo I know some people will hate this fic and ofc I understand that, but if you do hate it then please don't send me any hate!! just don't read it🖤 anywayss I got dis ask saying "Concept: Stepdad Duncan x naive reader😉" nd omg i LOVE the whole concept of Stepdad!Duncan sm, like if you've been in the fandom for a while you'll probably know the fic "The Hand That Robs the Cradle" by Langdonsrapture nd that fic was my holy grail when it came out!! so you know I just had to go all out here nd get carried away writing it hehe:')

word count: 5.4k

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The opportunity to study political science at American University in Washington DC had been one you simply couldn’t pass up on, but unfortunately it meant moving away from your father to stay closer to campus grounds. You knew it was worth it in the long run, I mean you had been waiting on this chance for years and wanted to make your father proud, but you would miss him.

He was never home too much, always busy working, but he meant the world to you. It had been just the two of you for a long time now. Your mother had moved away once their divorce finalised 7 years ago, impulsively leaving you in his custody as she ran off and gallivanted around the world, meeting all sorts of interesting men she would tell you about.

Luckily for you, she had settled down with one of those interesting men in DC recently, and upon discovering your acceptance into the prestigious university she had offered you a place to stay whilst you studied.

It was a frightening move to make, but staying with your mother in DC had actually been pretty interesting. You hadn’t spent time with her in so long and it had been nice to catch up with her, I mean sure she had been a little distant, but that was expected with having not spent any real time with her in so long.

You were just grateful she had let you stay with her in the first place, thinking she would have probably preferred to be left alone with her new husband, Duncan Shepherd.

They had been married about four months when you moved in and from what you could see, things were going well; especially considering she had sprung the engagement on everyone pretty fast. You were just happy knowing she was happy.

Though you had only met the man in question once before moving in, he really seemed like a perfect partner. He didn’t have a single obvious flaw to him, but see that was the problem. He was completely flawless to you.

You had tried to find things you didn’t like about him, even just tiny things, thinking hating him would be far better than thinking of him the way had been, but no matter what you did, you just couldn’t seem to fault him. And the longer you stayed with them, the worse your little problem became.

You weren’t 100% sure of how old he was. You only knew he was in his early to mid forties. But being at least 20 years your senior, you knew he was definitely old enough to be fulfilling the role he was as your stepfather. It felt strange to have a new stepdad at the age of 20, (almost 21) but it was even stranger with you being so blindly attracted to him.

And it wasn’t even just his looks. Though, yes, they were quite the spectacle, it was more than that. He was confident and cocky, always knowing exactly what to do and say to make the people around him do whatever he wanted them to. He could make you laugh until your stomach was in cramps, and not just through telling dad jokes. Charisma rolled off of him in waves.

He was intuitive and crafty; smart to put in plainly. And his interests appeared to be more intellectually based than anything else, which was quite the opposite of your mother, so it baffled you as to how your mother had managed to snatch him up so easily in the first place.

Now it’s not that you were jealous, really. It was more that you didn’t understand how these two polar opposite personality’s had ended up colliding together in the manner that they had.

Whenever the three of you would sit and have an evening meal together, Duncan always made you feel welcomed in the conversation, which was a great comfort to both you and your mother, being the relationship you had was so strained. Because of this and the fact you both had quite a lot in common when it came to your interests, Duncan and you had become almost good friends in the small time that you had been living there.

It was obvious he was doing his best to be some kind of fatherly figure to you. knowing that you were missing your actual dad, he did his best to help you with the things he knew your dad usually would. Whether it was school work or just having someone to joke with from time to time. He was there.

Sometimes when he was there, though, you felt like maybe, just maybe, he felt something more too. Such as the moments where his stares would linger on your form for just a little too long, or the way he would sometimes fix your hair for you if it had strayed across your face the wrong way. Just small things he did that fatherly figures didn’t typically tend to do with their daughters; especially when his wife, your mother, was right there. Sure, she seemed oblivious to it, but you certainly weren’t.

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Taking your now lukewarm cup of coffee from the breakfast bar counter, you brought it to your lips and gulped the bitter liquid down, fighting viciously to stay alert. It was nearing 3am and you had been writing for hours. Concentrating was no longer your most favourable asset and your half lidded eyes were growing wearer by the minute, but you just had to finish this paper.

It was 17 percent of your grade and due in two weeks. A persuasive essay on propaganda within the current American political climate and you had been slowly working at it for weeks, but you knew if you left it hanging over your head any longer it would drive you insane.

Sitting back in the stool you resided on, you took quick solace in the many noises coming from the ajar kitchen window, listening to a low rumble of thunder, accompanied by the constant pitter patter of rain falling from the gloomy DC sky above. It had been hot and humid all week, eventually cultivating into large clouds that had now given in, spilling out showers for almost the entire day past.

You recalled all the time you’d spent by the pool with your mother and Duncan in the past week, enjoying the current heatwave by sunbathing next to it on one of the many loungers. The house was kind of set up like a hotel that way. With Duncan always needing to be prepared for any events he may have to hold for his company’s business associates or press, he had furnished the home with what was to the three of you, unnecessary seating and tableware; amongst other things.

You stirred, returning your eyes back to the last few lines you had written and attempted to go over them in your head, but quickly realised you couldn't even manage that without stumbling over them or jumbling the words up beyond comprehension.

Abruptly interrupting your confused stream of thought, was the kitchen door groaning open. So with a frown plastered to your face, you shot your head up to recognise the intruder. But your frown was quickly blown away at discovering that it was Duncan who had entered the balmy room, and he was in more glory than you had ever seen him.

You had seen his silhouette whilst he showered before. Having gone into his and your mother’s shared bedroom whilst searching for earrings, you had seen him through the whited out, frosted glass of the on-suit bathroom door. But this was something entirely different. This was him, stood in kitchen doorway with nothing on but his grey Calvin Klein boxers.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you were still up.” He quirked a brow at you, wondering why you were still sat in the kitchen so late at night. You swallowed deeply at the sight of him. Your eyes magnetised to his body, dilating with such a sultry image before them. Pulling your eyes back up to his face, you hoped he hadn’t seen their little detour down to his crotch.

“Uhm.. i’m, uh.. w-working on an essay.” Fuck! He’ll definitely know how nervous you are now. You looked away from him, too embarrassed to face him and cringing at your own attempt to speak. “It’s due in next week and I wanted to get it finished.” Okay that’s better, you thought. Maybe he’ll just think you’re just too tired to have a proper conversation or something.

“Oh, right,” he trailed off, looking you up and down a bit as he walked further into the room. You watched the back of his head as he opened the fringe, holding it open and scanning the contents of it. Deciding on a small bottle of water, he retrieved it from the middle shelf before closing the door and walking over to lean on the opposite side of the counter from you.

He didn’t seem too bothered by the fact he was practically undressed in front of you. Of course, you weren't complaining, but it was interesting. You tried to think of something else you could add to your open word document, wanting to distract yourself from his displayed body. But thinking as hard as you possibly could, your mind still brought you nothing.

You awkwardly pulled at the sleeve of your oversized ‘American University” sweater and hoisted it back up onto your shoulder. It had ridden down your arm whilst you were aggressively fiddling with your fingers - a nervous habit you had developed in your early teens. People would often point it out to you, but it was just one of those things you couldn’t stop doing.

There was a deafening silence stuffed between the two of you. So looking around the room, you tried to focus on anything in your line of vision that wasn’t him. It was just too hard seeing him like; his plump lips wrapped around the bottle’s mouth as he drank, his sleepy un-styled curls falling just above his perfectly manicured brows and wearing nothing but those fucking grey boxers. He was making it unbearably hard not to stare.

Deciding to speak, you cleared your throat. “So did you just wake up? Or could you not sleep?”

“Just couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the most random shit.. and you know how your mom is, she snores a lot.” He chuckled. His eyes never leaving you, beginning to feel as if they were boring holes into your soul as you kept full eye contact with him.

“Yeah, that must get pretty annoying.” You nodded slowly, thinking about how many nights you had spent wide awake when you were younger, all due to her roaring, loud snores passing through the paper thin walls of your childhood home.

“It does.” A smile played on his lips, taking another swig of water before speaking again. “so what’s the essay about?”

“It’s that one I was telling you about a few weeks ago, if you remember. it’s a persuasive on propaganda within the current American political climate.” You reminded him of the conversation you had about it when he dropped you off to class one morning not too long ago. The two of you often carpooled together, with the University campus being so close to his office, it made for an easy drive on the days he was needed in.

You guys would listen to playlists together on the drive and make fun of each others music taste, that was when you weren’t too busy being amazed by how similar they could be.

“Are you struggling with it? I mean, it is getting pretty late now.” He turned to check the clock which hung on the wall behind him, then looked back at you questioningly.

Duncan was good at helping you with this kind of thing. He was extremely well versed in politics, with his family’s background and all. Your mom had told you he used to be very involved with the white house, saying when he was younger he even went to prison for a short time before president underwood had pardoned him.

“I just can’t concentrate, but I really need to get it done or it’ll stress me out.” You lifted your bare feet up onto the stool seat, your knees coming up to your chest so you could rest your chin on them. You were only wearing panties with the sweater, it being too hot to wear anything more.

“Can I come over and check it?” He closed his bottle of water, tightening the lid with his muscular arms as he spoke. You had almost forgot he wasn’t wearing much before he said this, but watching him screw the bottle cap on as he asked to could come round to your side of the counter? It had you weak for him all over again.

“Uh.. yeah, course.” He padded his bare feet over the white, tiled flooring towards you, placing the bottle down on the counter and moving behind you to read the most recent paragraphs you had written. His hand was stretched over to the other side of you, resting on the edge of the breakfast bar as the skin of his arm grazed across your back.

Even with you being sat on such a tall stool, he still managed to tower over you. His hight was usually intimidating as it was, but with the added factor of him being almost completely undressed it was even worse. A small waft of air blew his expensive cologne towards you, creeping past your nostrils and possessing your senses completely before you started to feel his breathe on your upper neck. It wasn’t heavy, but it was enough to make your cunt start pulsating.

You were disgusted by yourself. He’s your mother’s husband! And your Stepdad! What the fuck was wrong with you? You could only imagine what people’s reactions would be if they knew of the truly sinful thoughts you had about him, and you hated yourself for it.

He was your type, yes. A rich, older man who wasn’t actually an asshole, and they were hard to come by, but that wasn’t relevant. You needed to control yourself. No matter how hard that may be.

“What you have so far is really good. Your argument is strong and as always with your work, it’s written well. You’re smart, Y/N. It’s impressive.” He humoured himself with a scoff, his voice interrupting your lewd thoughts.

You blushed at his compliment, hiding your face behind your knees slightly and looking up at him. “Thanks, Duncan.” You knew he was just trying to be a good dad figure to you, but you couldn’t help being attracted to the way he was so caring for you. Maybe it’s fucked up, but it’s not your fault all you need is an older man’s approval to become turned on.

“I mean it.” He looks so sincere as he talks to you. His face would be intimately close to yours if you hadn’t hidden it from him earlier. You notice his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second, and then back up to your eyes again. His stare no longer felt friendly, but more.. lustful. Were you crazy or was he really doing this?

Suddenly he looks away from you, moving his eyes back to the laptop’s screen. “Maybe you should just get some sleep. I know you said it’ll stress you out, but if you get some rest you’ll be able to get back into it tomorrow with better concentration.” He does his best to steer the conversation back to where is once was, reminding himself that you’re his fucking step daughter and that he has a beautiful wife sleeping just upstairs.

“I know that, its just..” You sighed, blinking up at him. You brought your legs back down you hang over the edge of the seat, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how close he was to you, wanting to do nothing more than to drape your arms behind his neck an-.

“Nope I won’t listen to it. From what I can see it’s an incredibly strong piece of work already, so just go get some sleep and come back to it in the morning, okay sweetheart?” He laughed a little, looking down at you again.

That nickname. Sweetheart. He called you it all the time and yet it always managed to take your breath away. But the thing is, he usually wasn’t this close to you when he did. So when you squeezed your legs together and bite down on your bottom lip, doing your best to ease the overwhelming desire you felt for him in that moment, there was no way he hadn’t seen it.

You were frozen staring at him, his face static and unreadable. You hoped he didn't choose to shout at you for how repulsive your behaviour was, or maybe he would kick you out? Your mind began spiralling, wrapping itself in intricate knots as you held your breath, awaiting a reply from him.

“Do you like that? When I call you sweetheart.” His voice was deep, sultry and dripping with desire. Shock coursed through you. That was definitely not what you had expected him to say. He seemed even larger now, his confidence making you feel small in comparison as your mind scrabbled to find the words you were supposed to use in your current predicament, but it never found any.

"You like it when daddy gives you nicknames?” He moved his hand up and delicately grasped the skin where your neck met your jaw, his eyes half lidded with lust. Your heart was beating so fast now and your breathing had grown shallow. You were so lost for words, only able to whimper out a weak “yes” before looking down to his boxers, trying to avoid his eyes but still wanting him just as much as he now appeared to want you.

He lifted your chin and kissed you roughly, drinking in your lips as if you were the water he had ventured down stairs for all along; and you began to wonder if you perhaps were. Maybe you were what he had been craving, just as you had been craving him.

He pulled the stool closer to him with his spare hand, leading you to wrap your legs around his torso as you tangled your tiny fingers through his sleep rustled hair. It was passionate. His kiss was sloppy, yet perfectly executed as his tongue slipped past your lips to glide over your own. His greying stubble dug into your skin, burning it with pure contact.

You parted to breath; and for just a moment, though it felt like hours, you stared into each others eyes with a ferociously neither of you could nor wanted to tame.

He tuts. “You really shouldn’t drink so much coffee little one, it’s not good for you. And it’s all I can taste.” He couldn’t help but reprimand you for the little habit, he had just gotten so used to doing it over the past three months, and using it to tease you sounded even more appealing.

You opened your mouth to speak, but were cut off when he lunged at you again, kissing you viciously. He began to move his hands all across your body, his fingertips grazing over every inch of you they possibly could as he started to undress you, pulling your oversized sweater above your head and taking handfuls of your breasts. He was kneading them, leaning down to kiss and suck on them whilst he watched you throw your head back, completely enthralled by him.

You were taken aback by how quick things had escalated, your sense of control had deteriorated far too rapidly and was ebbing away even further with each little kiss he left on your skin.

His large hand slid down to your panties, playing with the lacy bow that was centred on the waist band. He hovered his hand over your heat, cupping it and feeling just how sticky you had become for him. You let out a moan, all sense of wrong and right leaving you completely as you uttered a soft “Daddy” and ground your cunt into the palm of his hand.

“That’s right. So desperate for daddy.” He mused, ripping your thin underwear off and dropping it down onto the floor beneath you. Bringing his face to yours again, your noses bumped and leant on each other for some kind of purchase, the both of you watching his hand as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, gathering a fair amount of slick on them before pressing two inside you.

“Ahh!!” You let out a moan, it was louder than you expected and reminded you of what was really going on here. Having been too caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even thought about how being complete fucking naked with your step father between your legs would look if your mother had decided to come downstairs.

“Ah, ah, shh baby. We don’t wanna get now caught do we?” His breathe was hot on your lips, whispering as to not alert anyone. “So tight.”

You whispered back. “I’m sorry daddy, it was an accident- mmph!” You muffled your moan.

“That’s it. Who’s my good girl?” He lay a gentle peck on you lips, only stopping as to allow you to answer his question.

“I am daddy!! I’m your good girl!” You spoke with urgency, but did your best to keep the volume low, which was quite the struggle in between moans. Duncan could see this, so he pressed your lips together. Kissing you into a muffled silence.

You felt his spare hand on your neck, squeezing it just enough for you to still breathe okay when he pulled away from your mouth, moving his lips to the shell of your ear and biting the lobe. He murmured in your ear. “Do you know how hard it was, this week? Having to sit there next to your mom at the poolside and see you just lying there like that?! That fucking bikini. It took everything in me not to cum right there.”

His fingers were moving slowly, going in deep and curling up against your g spot, making you cry out and lean on his shoulder, biting it to keep yourself quiet. he started to rub your clit in hard circles. He was so experienced. It was mind-blowing.

“Would it have served you more pleasure to know, I only wore it for you?” It was true, you had only worn it for him and it had obviously worked. You certainly had his attention now. He growled at this, pulling his fingers out and slapping your cunt.

He yanked your neck closer to him, speaking down to you. “Just for that? Get on your fucking knees.” As soon as he let go of your throat you were climbing off the stool and onto the floor. The heat of the room, and of your acts too, made the marble tiling feel like ice pressed onto your flushed skin. But you didn't care.

You watched him pull his boxers down, cock springing free, adjacent to his stomach. Never having been with anyone of this size before, you had never seen a cock this big. You reached out and touched it, feeling just how hard he was. He hissed at the contact, looking down at you as you watched his facial expressions with wide eyes.

You played with it in your hand, stroking it with one and palming his balls with the other. He stroked his fingers through your hair, giving you a reassuring look as you licked the tip. The salty taste hit your tongue, making you crave his cock even more. So without another second going to waste, you took him into your mouth as far as you could.

“Ahh fuck!” You began bobbing your head, your eyes fixed on him as a groan left his lips. He was watching you intently, threading his fingers through your hair and onto your scalp to get a good grip on your head. You let your jaw go loose, knowing what he was about to do and preparing yourself for it.

He started thrusting his hips into your face, his cock hitting the back of your throat with almost every shove. You had honestly impressed yourself, I mean you knew you gave good head, but taking a cock this big as it fucked into your throat was something to be proud of.

“Mmm that’s it sweetheart.” Your stomach fluttered at his approval. The gagging noises you were making giving him even more pleasure. “You just wanna make daddy proud, don’t you princess?” You mumbled a wet “yes daddy” around his cock, sending sweet vibrations through it as he pushed himself as far as he could into your throat.

You couldn't even fathom how this was happening. You had pictured this moment late at night with a vibe pressed to your clit far too many times to count, so it finally happening was something hard to comprehend. Somehow he looked even more handsome from down on your knees than you had ever imagined he would. His stubble contouring his face perfectly with the ‘o’ his lips were forming.

Suddenly pulling you off of him, you gasped out for oxygen and tried to wipe away some of the saliva dribbling down your chin. It was like a snapshot from one of Duncan’s wet dreams. You looked so incredibly fucked out. He thought it was beautiful.

“Come on little one, stand up. Daddy wants to fuck that tight little pussy of yours.” You moaned as he talked down to you, stroking his calloused thumb over your bottom lip and pulling it down just to watch it bounce back up again.

You stood up, finally wrapping your arms around his shoulders like you had wanted to all this time. He pulled you in for a kiss, one much slower than the rest, communicating something more to you than just pure sexual carnality. His embrace was comforting, making you feel protected and small in his arms.

His hands grabbed at your ass as he picked you up, sitting you back down onto the bar stool and adjusting the hight while his lips stayed connected to yours. Once the seat was low enough for his liking, he picked up your thighs, shelving them onto his hips and laying you back just enough so that you could lean on the backrest.

The room was sweltering, your body hot against his and anticipating having him buried inside you was getting too much to handle. He dragged his cock through your lips, teasing your clit and moving back down to almost enter you, but he never would. Just wanting to get you all worked up and loving the way you would squirm when he did.

“Daddy.. please.” You steadied yourself by holding on to the sides of the seat, hoping he would end his tournament and fuck you already.

He slid the head barely into you. “Hmm… Since you were so polite, suppose daddy should reward you.” He spoke calmly before snarling and stuffing himself into you, pushing as deeply as he physically could. He felt your walls clamp around him as he set his pace. It was a lot. Having never taken a cock this big and the fact he didn’t even let you adjust, you couldn’t help but wail out.

He shot his hand up to cover your mouth, needing to keep you quiet and seeing you clearly couldn’t do it yourself. “Wouldn’t want to wake up mommy now, would you baby?” you attempted to utter a “No daddy”, but his hand kept your lips glued shut.

He fucked you. Like really really fucked you. He was making the stool shuffle underneath you, the powerfulness of his thrusts causing you to slide down in the seat. The only reason you didn’t slip off completely being the barbarian hold he had on your hips.

It actually surprised you how rough he was. A pleasant surprise, of course, but he had been so delicately caring towards you since becoming your step father and now here you were, receiving the best of both worlds.

The closer you grew to your high, the more incoherent your thoughts became. His eyebrows were scrunched together, lips trembling as he picked you up off the seat and held you closer to him. Supporting your ass, his hips ricocheted up and off yours as he tried desperately not to yell out.

His thumb was brought back down to your clit as he pressed you up against him, swiping at it hellishly, trying to hurry up your release upon feeling your legs begin to quiver; and knowing his own was approaching rapidly.

“That’s it sweetheart, come around daddy’s cock… Gonna cum so fucking deep inside your cunt. Would you like that?” You could see a thin line of perspiration cascading down his cheekbone, he was almost breathless and his thrusts were messier now.

“Yes da-AHH!“ you whipped a hand up to your face, holding your mouth shut as you came. You dug the hand you had placed on his shoulder deep into his skin and was quickly reminded of his marriage to your mother. You hoped you hadn't left any nail indents she might see.

You felt his hot seed spurt onto your walls as he rested his head on yours, mouth open wide and letting out a silent groan. His release was long and powerful. The both of you were left panting, the only noise in the room being your own breaths and a small creak from the stool when he softly set you down onto it.

He pulled out, your mixed juices gushing out of you along with the sexual haze you had been overcome with. The severity of what you had just done began to settle in. His head still resting on yours as you started freaking out, contemplating what would happen if your mother was to ever find out what had just occurred.

You wrapped your arms around his back, needing his comfort and squeezing him in an urgent hug, which he returned. his fingers stroked the sweaty skin of your back, trying to ease the thoughts he too had running through his mind. He lifted your chin up, the look he had in his eyes telling you everything would be okay.

Kissing you cautiously, he savoured the feeling of your lips on his and prayed he would get a chance to feel them again. “Are you okay?” He whispered

You didn’t really know if you were. On one hand, that was something you had wanted for a long time and it had been far better than you ever imagined, but on the other you had just helped your stepfather cheat on your mother. “I don’t know. I think so.”

He stood up, grabbing your sweater and panties, handing them to you before putting his boxers back on. “Well, at least that paper won’t seem like such big problem now.” He chuckled, doing his best to find humour in a humourless situation.

You giggled a little, hurrying to throw on your sweater and being reminded of how he had ruined your panties. “True. Now this can hang over my head instead.” You wiped any left over salvia you had on your face onto your sleeve and thought about how you would probably need to shower after this. “At least the sex was worth it, right?”

He sent you a dark smirk, picking up his bottle of water and walking towards the kitchen door. “It was. hopefully it'll be just as good next time too.” You opened your mouth, faking shock at his confidence as you watched him open the door.

“Goodnight Y/N” He gave you one last look as he sauntered through the door, getting ready to close it behind him and leave you alone in the kitchen with no one but your thoughts. The thoughts of your acts. Remembering all the little moments you had just shared together.

In that last moment before he left, you struck eye contact with him, chewing your inner lip and speaking.

“Goodnight, daddy.”

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Thank you sm for reading!🥺🖤

Tags: @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @ntxoza @blakescoven @ghostangels @jimmason @fernfiction @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @instincts-baby i'm so so sorry if you don't like this kinda fic or it has triggered you in anyway, but just let me know if it has and I won't tag you in this kind of thing ever again! You can also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list too:)

[maraudersftw]

If you're still doing the drabbles - 21. Don’t you know who I am? (Yeah, I just don’t care.) for anyone 🧡

Look at me, getting to these prompts after 60 years. Thank you for the ask! I went a little crazy with this one, but I hope you like it 🧡🧡

Insufferably Annoying

“Of course, the Minister has the right idea of it,” the woman babbled on, either appallingly unaware that she’d lost the attention of her audience, or just uncaring. “The Dementors are a necessary evil, given the state of affairs outside. Minchum understands how to implement difficult decisions despite their unsavoury nature. Mark my words; that man will bring about the reformations that our society gravely needs.”

“Hmm.” James took a sip of the expensive spiced mead sloshing around in his glass, eyes staring beyond the woman’s shoulder, obviously distracted. Around him, some notes of pretentious, uppity music floated through the room, mingling with the sounds of highfalutin conversations that were rather characteristic of Slug Club parties.

He hated Sirius for ditching him.

“But let’s not bore ourselves with such tedious political talks, Mr Potter,” continued Mrs MacFarlan, misinterpreting James’s distraction as disinterest. Though, to be fair, she wasn’t entirely wrong; he was disinterested. “My husband and I watched your latest match against Hufflepuff. Truly impressive performance there. Of course, there are many talented players in your year at Hogwarts, but Horace assures me you’re one of a kind…”

James had to quickly reign in the humourless snort that wanted to escape him; he knew very well that Slughorn only cared about him because of the Potter family name and nothing else. His firm conviction stemmed a lot from the fact that he was entirely rubbish at Potions and he certainly hadn’t done anything else to merit the favour Slughorn extended to him. While James knew he tended to be arrogant—and rightfully so—about most things in life, this was not one of them.

Similarly, he was under no delusion that the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Hamish MacFarlan, and his wife, Viola MacFarlan, had come to watch his match—a school match—for any reason other than the prestige they stood to gain from having him. Nothing would serve their department better during such times than adding another ruddy Pureblood name to it.

“He’s just exaggerating,” James said eventually, voice flat. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

That was a lie, but he’d rather eat a handful of Cockroach Clusters than simper at the woman like she’d clearly expected him to do. “I don’t think you should be throwing away all that talent carelessly, Mr Potter.”

But James had tuned her out, eyes latched onto the flash of red hair he’d caught at the end of the room. “I think I can decide that for myself,” he said. “You're wasting your time. Please excuse me, I just need to—”

“I beg your pardon?” her eyes widened with affront. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“Yeah, I just don’t care,” James shrugged. “I’m sorry, Mrs MacFarlan, I’m just not interested in Quidditch professionally. I was, a few years back, but now—there are more important things in the world.”

“Like what?” she snapped.

“Like tedious politics,” he said pointedly. “Don’t get me wrong, Quidditch is great, but I know I can do more for the people I care about. I’ll be joining the Auror Department after Hogwarts.”

His eyes flicked away once more, and he spotted Lily near the exit, walking out briskly.

“I think you should reconsider—”

“Can’t. There’s no time,” he was already brushing past the woman. “Thank you for the offer. Goodnight.”

James didn’t wait to observe just how badly MacFarlan had taken his ill-mannered dismissal, for he was too busy making his way through the throng of students and out of Slughorn’s office. 

“Evans!” he called, voice echoing down the hallway. The sequins on her dark blue dress glimmered as she halted, sudden, surprised. James rushed up to catch up with her when she started walking again after a few seconds, slower. “Lily, wait!”

The back of her neck was flushed by the time he caught up. “What do you want, James?”

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all day. Why have you been ignoring me?”

Green eyes flashed up to him, lashes curled, liner popping. His heart flipped over. “I’m not ignoring you; you’re ignoring me.”

“Um,” he frowned, speeding up so he could stand in front of her. They stopped walking, alone in a long corridor on the sixth floor. This close to her, James caught an intoxicating waft of her floral perfume. “Given the fact that I literally had to chase you down, you’ll find that I’m not.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Yes, because it’s convenient for you now.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” She shook her head. “I’m not ignoring you, alright? We’re fine.”

“Are we? Because you seem pretty pissed at me still.”

“I’m always pissed at you, James. You’re insufferably annoying.”

He cracked a smile for her effort. “Then let me live up to that image. Why were you ignoring me?” he repeated.

“I—” she swallowed her words, clearly spotting the stubbornness in his eyes, and pursed her lips. “We were just at a Slug Club party, yeah? Do you know what happens at those?”

James ran a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous thanks to her intense gaze. “Uh, we meet a bunch of people with sticks up their arses?”

“Wrong,” Lily said, stepping closer. One slender finger poked his chest. “We dance, we talk, we get drunk.”

He couldn’t breathe right. Her lips were so red. “Um, okay?”

“With our date,” she hissed, cheeks flushing despite the bite in her words. “A date that I didn’t have for tonight because I’d rejected everyone who’d asked.”

A beat passed, and he absorbed her words, found the meaning behind them. The hallway was suddenly brighter, the air warmer. James’s heart sung. “Why?” he breathed.

Lily made a frustrated noise at the back of her throat, leaning away. “Clearly, because I’m an idiot, that’s why!”

“No, no, hang on,” he grinned, pathetically gleeful as he pulled her back to him by the waist. “Are you saying that—that you wanted me to ask you to be my date, Evans? Is that what you’re saying?”

She tensed under his fingertips, skin hollowing between collarbones as she held a breath. “Maybe,” she exhaled. “Because I thought you would, but—”

“Are you saying,” James pressed, dipping his head closer to hers, “that you would rather go with me than any other bloke at Hogwarts?”

Lily’s eyes flicked to his lips, back to his face. “Check that ego, please.”

“Impossible,” he grinned.

“Why didn’t you ask?” she croaked when it became evident that he fully intended to close the space between them. “I felt like such a fool, hovering around you, waiting. I thought you were deliberately ignoring me.”

He paused, lips almost brushing against her mouth. “I honestly didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“Idiot.” Lily nudged his nose with hers, one hand on his cheek, one hand on his chest. “Insufferably annoying.”

James admitted that he certainly was; he didn’t let her up for air until their lungs were screaming.