#*attempts to move the plot along*

[phoenixcatch7]

It's always funny to me when in an lu fic the chain is offered bananas and don't accept them. Like, you're offering these high energy adventures free food?? Fruit they'll have never even heard of before??? A ridiculously expensive imported good at best?? AND it boosts your attack?

Not ONE of these idiots would ever turn down something new and interesting to eat at least once. They'd be all over those bananas and immediately get dubbed yiga and I'm honestly surprised no one has used it in a fic yet 🤭

[youngpettyqueen]

I know the decision to have Julian's parents have him augmented was made on the fly but imo its pretty obvious from early on that Julian has Family Issues because he avoids talking about his family like the plague and I think they should've incorporated this into the Julian and Sisko dynamic right from early on because I think it would've made for some really compelling stories and moments and could've set up a REALLY interesting Julian and Jake dynamic which they kinda started to do but never fully went for

[kamitv]

▷ Second Time?

Synopsis . Part One. When you get paired with the campus asshole, Sukuna, for a project, the last thing you expect to learn about him is that he’s a damn virgin. Nor did you expect to be the one to change that. / Pairing . virgin!Sukuna x fem!reader / Content . afab!reader, nipple play (m!receiving), pussy slapping, non-curse college au, dirty talk, pet names, degrading, continued porn w plot, teasing, taunting, filth, creampie, Sukuna’s kinda soft here and there, etc. / wc . 4.4k

A/N: to those that requested a part two for virgin!sukuna <3 [MDNI]

“No? Oh c’monnn, they’re just piercings,” You whine as your legs remain sprawled out over Sukuna’s muscular thighs.

Your panty-clad cunt was throbbing over his saliva-slicked semi-hard cock, due to your recent actions, and yet here Sukuna was still trying his very best to figure out a way out of this situation. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go further with you— he was just nervous.

Not that he’d ever say that out loud though. Admit you’ve made him nervous? Oh please, in what universe?

Sure, you made him cum prematurely but that’s not his fault. No one told you to have such a slutty ass mouth. 

Back to the present though, as you gaze down at him with those stupidly pretty eyes of yours, batting your lashes pleadingly whilst you await for the man to change his answer. It was simply unfair of him to have nipple piercings and not show you. It’s the least he could do after the head you just gave him, right?

“No, it’s not the ‘least I can do’,” Sukuna huffs. It’s then that you realize you’d spoken your thoughts aloud but, in a way, you’re actually glad you did so, “You’re not seeing shit, now get off of me.��

The pout that presents itself on your face is practically immediate, “C’mon ‘Kuna, I won’t touch them. I jus’ wanna see,” You coo softly, tilting your head to the side as if to convince him, “Please?”

One simple word and his tip was wet with precum yet again. Sukuna swears he hates you. He hates the way you're looking at him right now, the way you're seated so perfectly on top of him, and the way he forgets how the hell he even got into this position with you in the first place.

Didn't he come over here to finish a project? Not have sex with you.

And yet, he can't find it in himself to say no to you again. That damn word you said, it did something to him. Sukuna's not sure what or why but his mouth is moving on its own, almost instinctively, "You wanna see them?" He sighs.

You're nodding, slipping your hands down to the hem of his shirt, "Yeah. Promise I won't touch."

"Tch. I..." Sukuna grits his teeth and you can see a pretty vein decorating his skin along his sharp jawline as he glances away for a moment, "I want you to beg me again."

Although you're a bit taken back by his request, you're quick to lean forward a bit and bite your lower lip, "Please?"

He ignores the word leaving you lips, his cock springing to life once more despite his attempt at leaving you unanswered. Given his body's reaction to you, all you can do is smirk before you're leaning down slightly and pressing your lips to his jaw.

"Pretty please, Sukuna?" You purr, warm breath hitting his now overly tense skin, "I promise I'll be good. Won't lay a finger on you unless you want me to."

His head slumps back against the couch and he inhales sharply at your soft touch sliding under his shirt, steadily working it up as the black fabric bundles up against your hands.

Then you're at his neck, sucking on his skin, rolling your tongue over him, shifting your hips forward against his cock and he simply groans. "F-Fucking, fine." Sukuna huffs, annoyed out of his ever-loving mind at whatever control it is you seem to have over him.

He hates you. He swears he hates you. Everything about the way your hands quickly tug his shirt up over his head, tossing the fabric elsewhere as you set your greedy eyes on his chest, the way your eyes widen at how flushed his skin is, and the sight of your tongue swiping over your lips as soon as you set your sight on his nipples.

Such pretty contrasting metal decorated his very pretty swollen nipples. So flushed with shades of pink and red, itching to be touched— just one flick and you knew he'd let out the most heavenly sound. The problem was convincing him to let you touch his nipples.

They were so damn tempting though, you swore you were drooling at the sight. God, you just wanted to reach out and-

"No," Sukuna rasps out. Your eyes snap up to his face and your pussy throbs at his expression.

He's beyond embarrassed. His eyes almost look glossed over with how desperate he was for you to stop looking at him. And yet he was so pouty and grumpy too, plump lips pulled into the cutest little frown at how hungry you were looking at him, his breathing unsteady all over again, and his cock felt twitching wildly beneath you.

You smirk, "'No'... what?"

"No, you cannot touch them," He's slow to clarify that, having seen right through those greedy eyes of yours, "You wanted to see and you've seen so-"

"I can make you feel good though," You purr, leaning in close to him all over again. "Jus' let me-"

"No," Sukuna mutters sternly. Then his hands are meeting your hips and his grip alone makes you flinch.

His touch is filled with intent as he slides his hands back to your ass and gives you a nice and firm squeeze, tugging you against him and making you gasp at the way his dick twitches right against your cunt. Your hands go to his shoulders to stop yourself from being pulled flush against him and he gazes dead up into your eyes.

How does one look so needy and yet commanding at the same time? It was like Sukuna told you thousands of words through his gaze alone. Maybe it was his very apparent physical need for you, or maybe it was just how attractive he is when aroused but fuck his look had your body hot all over.

Sukuna lets out a small breath of air before he drops his raspy tone even lower to a whisper, "Fuck me," He utters, feeling the reaction your cunt has to his words and cracking a cocky little smirk, "Fuck me, and you can touch me as much as you wish to."

You gulp thickly. Did you forget how to speak for a moment because all you do is open your mouth and it was like no words were even coming to your brain. His gaze was to intense and starved, large hands playing with the fat of your ass while he lifts his hips up slightly.

Then you gasp again, his thick tip was pressing right against your needy hole through the few layers of clothing that remained and you felt drunk off of your own arousal. Nodding and whispering in return, "O-Okay," Your hands slide around his neck and you lean in until your lips are meeting his again.

And if you were drunk off of your arousal then he was fucking high off of his own— feeling faded out of his mind with the way he leisurely moves to undress your lower half as he kisses you like he's done so a thousand times before, sliding his tongue into your mouth, swallowing up your moans, sucking on your lower lip, and undressing you all in one go.

Hell, for a second you forget the man is a damn virgin.

And as if to combat with that— you feel like a damn virgin once you start sinking your slippery walls around Sukuna’s thick cock. Gasping against his lips and feeling his fingertips curl into the skin of your waist, his jaw-dropping and lips quivering against yours as he lets out the most guttural groan he’s ever uttered, and both of your eyes fluttering at the connection of his body to yours. 

Sukuna’s deeply shaded red eyes are hazy on yours as you sink down on him. His mind is turning to mush and he swears he’s about to pass the fuck out. It could’ve been the way your face looked as your cunt greedily sucked in his cock, or how tight your walls clamped down on him but, either way, Sukuna felt hot all over. Dizzy with lust and faded off of everything that’s you.

Every inch of you, the feel of your squeezing wet pussy enclosing around his aching cock, that breathy squeak of his name leaving your lips, and then your fingers grazing his chest-

Sukuna’s brows twist up and his entire body flinches instinctively. Hips bucking up slightly, large hands urging you further down, and shaky sound escaping his wet blushing lips— he’d officially lost it. 

He looked so damn pretty doing so as well, not that you’d ever tell him that (you’ve embarrassed him enough for the time being). Those damn eyes of his were all glossed over, his bottom lip was shaking as a sexy-pitched gasp escaped his throat, and his hands held onto you for dear life whilst he bottomed out.

His fat cockhead kissing your cervix with little to no movement had you panting heavily while you kept your eyes low on his. “‘Kuna,” You feel his cock twitch desperately inside you and you toy with one of his sensitive nipples in between your index and thumb, “Y-You’re so-“

“Shut up,” He groans, and then he’s kissing you— desperately, hungrily-, starved. He knew another word from you would have your cunt stuffed full of his cum within seconds.

And as much as he wanted that, as much as he knew that’d be the end result of all this, he did not want to make yet another fool of himself. Though, the way your fingertips constantly flick over his pierced nipples makes him fucking whine into your mouth, a heavy grunt following after the sound as if to cover it up.

The hands your waist urge your body up, dragging your slicked walls up along his cock before allowing gravity to slam you back down. God the way you moan his name makes his knees feel weak. You were making him, as a whole, feel so utterly weak.

It wasn’t long before you were picking up a steady pace on top of him, your breaths shared with his and his eyes not once leaving yours. Sukuna was such a silent commander, that gaze of his told you everything, testing-, no, daring you to look away from him. He didn’t even know what it was about eye contact but he craved it so desperately.

Your gaze made his cock so stupidly hard, so much so that he just wanted to flip you over on this stupid couch of yours and-

And then he was. Sukuna doesn’t even register he’s repositioned with you until you let out the prettiest little whimper and your eyes roll back as he, almost experimentally, thrusts his heavy cock deep past your plush pussy lips. 

What brings him back into the moment is that sound of you and the way you’re choking out his name, “S’kuna, f-fuck,” You almost hate that he’s taken control because you’ve lost your teasing of his chest, “Why’d you-, ngh-,” You’re cut off completely when he drags his hips back so torturously slow before rolling his hips down into you.

Shaking his head thoughtlessly, “Shut up,” Sukuna huffs again as he presses his bulky weight down against you, folding you into the meanest mating press and making you let out a filthy mewl at the sheer stretch of his girthy cock. “Please,” He sounds almost breathless, that plea of his hardly even audible, “Jus’ be quiet f’me.”

Your jaw hangs open and you’re simply gaping up at the man with stupid, cockdrunk eyes. Something about feeling and watching him learn how to please you was probably more pleasurable than the sex itself. Which is saying an awfully lot because even though he didn't know what the hell he was doing, whatever he was doing, he was doing it right.

All you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and tug him closer, moaning his name softly every time his tip nudges into that mushy spot inside you. Sukuna lets out a low hum when he feels your nails claw at his back suddenly.

Then the cocky bastard has the nerve to fucking smile at you. Almost as if he enjoyed the pain of your nails scratching at his back hard enough to leave marks…

Because, of course, then he’s fucking you faster, harder, deeper. So determined to learn what you like, to learn your body inside and out (literally), and to have you mark up his back more than the dark ink that decorates his skin currently.

“Y’feel so fuckin’…” He can hardly even speak as he just grows addicted to pushing his cock in and out and in and out. That sloppy sound of your cunt squelching and wetting up his cock over and over again-, fuck he couldn’t get enough of it. “S-So fuckin’ good,” Sukuna’s voice almost softens as he shifts his lips to your ear, “Oh fuck, wanna…” His words trail off, a deep shade of blush coating his cheeks.

You can’t help but grow that never-ending urge to tease him, moving your lips to his ear, “Wanna what?” There was a slight shake in your voice but that didn’t save him from his cock throbbing at the sound of your voice alone.

“Hahh… wanna-, agh, wanna make you cum,” Sukuna admits begrudgingly. He sounded so ridiculously embarrassed saying that out loud but he was far too pussydrunk to care right now.

Thrusts growing heavier as if he were searching for a specific spot inside you, his eyes softening as he shifts to hover his face over yours once more, and his groans making your stomach churn with butterflies. Hell, you almost do exactly that of what he’s requested based on the sound of desperation in his tone alone.

Sukuna’s usually such a big, mean, sometimes stoic man, and yet here he was, silently requesting your assistance. 

He is only a virgin after all.

“Not anymore,” He gruffs, catching you by surprise as you render the fact that those words left your lips. “C’mon, tell me what to do.”

Again, Sukuna swears on his life he hates you. He hates the way you’ve made him so weak, the way your cunt is so deliciously warm inside, the way you moan his name-

Fuck, he hates you.

“‘Kuna,” You whisper as you slide one of your hands from around his neck to slip to his hand and guide him, “My clit. You gotta-“

Your breath is caught in your throat all over again. You were trying to guide him just like he wanted you to but Sukuna was far too quick of a learner, swatting his thick thumb around in search before his ears twitch at the way your voice gets stuck in your throat.

“Here?” He has the nerve to whisper gently, “Rub here, right? Y’like that?” Sukuna asks as he matches his thrusts with the flick of his thumb, drinking in the way your back arches up off of the couch and your eyes roll back.

You’re nodding, “Yes yes-, r-right there ‘Kuna, fuck…”

His eyes rake over your face all over again and then he’s doing that thing where he speaks without thinking, “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

Of course, those softly uttered words pull you out of your cockdrunken stupor for only a moment, “H-Huh?” You breathe out as your eyes meet his.

“I hate you,” Sukuna lies straight through his teeth, “Hate how pretty you look beneath me,” He’s babbling at this point, picking up his pace and trying to angle his cock into somewhere specific, “How fuckin’-, god you’re squeezin’ me s’tight, hahh… h-how you sound moaning my name, taking my cock.” With that last sentence comes a particularly harsh thrust.

Your nails scrape at his back again and he moans in pleasure. Gloss covers your eyes as he finally finds that spot that has you seeing stars, “Sukuna,” You moan sweetly, feeling him hit that very spot over and over and over again.

“Again,” He huffs, leaning down even closer and pressing more of his weight onto you, “Moan my name again, woman.”

“Sukuna,” You’re moaning without the need for his instruction. To hell if the man is a virgin, he knows how to use his cock.

What he doesn’t realize is how big he is in comparison to anyone else you’ve been with. Stretching you open with every thrust, fucking you ridiculously full of all his thick inches, knocking his dripping tip right against your sweet spot, making your legs tingle in numbness, and rolling skillful circles around your clit as if he’d practiced doing so before.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Sukuna rasps out, his eyes locked dead onto yours as usual.

He was so focused on you, so eager to make you cum. Obviously, he’d never felt anything like this before so he never wants it to end. And perhaps that’s the only reason why he hasn’t emptied himself into you yet. 

Every time you’re felt leaving another bright red mark on his back, he lets out a low hiss before flashing a smirk down at you, thrusts growing harder. Then there’s the way you just gape up at him, jaw dangling as you’re so clearly lost in pleasure, and pussy swallowing him in whole each time he fucks himself back into you.

And your little gasps of, “Feels s-so good Kuna, don’t stop.” Have him reeling back on purpose, pretending to mistakenly slip his cock out of you for a moment only to slap his fat cockhead against your needy hole and then push all of himself right back in.

With a smug expression on his face, “Don’t tell me what t’do,” He responds.

“I jus’ did,” You argue back all in one breath.

God, he- , “I hate you,” The words are leaving his lips yet again but he can’t stop driving his dick inside you. You’re so fucking warm, so welcoming for him, so honeyed and sweet inside. Hell, for a second he wonders what you’d taste like on his tongue— despite never even going down on someone before.

“Yeah,” You flash a fucked-out little smile up at him and your walls grip onto him tighter, making his brows twist up, “But you love fuckin’ me.” Your little whisper makes him shudder.

He nearly cums at that, releasing a strangled groan before he just nods almost obediently, “Uhuh.” Sukuna mumbles, his hate for you growing with every passing second.

There you are under him, still teasing him despite the expression of pleasure plastered across your face, “Yeah?”

“M-Mhm,” He grumbles in response.

He can’t help but just agree with you. Of course he adores fucking you. If anything, he doesn’t think he’d prefer it be anyone else. After watching your cute ass all composed every week in class, listening to the way you lecture him for not paying attention as if you actually care about him, watching you grow surprised today at the way he can get things done when he puts in an effort-

Shit, of course he wanted to see you like this— splayed out like a pretty little slut for him, gasping his name, looking him in the eye, and allowing him to fuck you. God, his mind is spinning. He can’t think at all.

So lost in his head, you’re left spasming below him because he’s still thumbing at your clit and his cock is as unforgiving as ever, “Sukuna,” His name rolls off of your tongue beautifully and he’s left in awe above you.

Tilting his head, “What?” Sukuna breathes as he’s pulled from his daze and back to the present.

“Make me cum,” You order so suddenly.

As that third word leaves those lips of yours, Sukuna smirks knowingly and he leans up a little just to angle himself better inside you. He glances down at your cunt, biting his lip at the sight of his cock bulging inside you, watching himself push in and out for a second before his smirk turns into a lazy little smile.

“Already did’,” He scoffs, flicking his eyes back up to you.

Your brows twist up, “Wha-“

“Are you that dumb when cock is inside ya’?” He utters meanly and earns an immediate squeeze of your gummy walls around his veiny shaft, “You came a few minutes ago, brat.” 

“I…” Your expression becomes dumbfounded and in an instant, you’re the one left embarrassed.

Which he finds all too cute, “Felt good tho’.” He comments smugly, looking back down to where you’re connected and tilting his head at the sight.

Fuck, he was so sexy above you. Even on his chest, bright red scratches decorated his skin. When did you do that? His nipples were still as flushed as his face and you wanted so badly to reach out and flick your fingers against them again.

Pouting, “Sukuna-“

“Do it again f’me,” The man cuts off.

You can’t even get a response out before he’s leaning down again, “I-“

This time you’re cut off by him pressing your legs together and against your chest, loving the pretty sight of you folded and bent to his will like this. All he can do is stare down and watch himself fuck you, seeing your swollen lips take in his fat length so fucking beautifully. It’s like you were made for him or something.

Your cunt only molds around his cock, sucking him in whenever he pulls out like you never wanted him to leave you. He could feel every throb of your pussy when he spoke to you, every squeeze of your warmth when he reached deeper than before, and fuck was he enamored by every second of it.

“Please,” He says breathlessly all of a sudden, itching to watch you cum on his cock this time around.

His begging is followed by him moving his hand back down to your pussy, his thumb sliding back in search of your clit. Rubbing those maddening little circles once he finds it, Sukuna focuses most of his attention on your body. Every little jump you make when he swats his thumb to the left, every pitch in your moan when he thrusts inside you at a certain pace— Sukuna soon smiles once he’s got you all figured out.

“Oh fuck,” You whimper, tossing your head back against the couch as your eyes loll to the back of your hand.

With that knowing smile on his face, the couch creaks with his rough thrusts inside you, “Stop makin’ me beg you for shit,” Sukuna grunts before gifting your throbbing pussy with a little smack, “Jus’ give it t’me.”

“Sukuna-, ah,” You’re choking at the sensation and your cunt narrows even more around him.

His toned pelvis smacks against you over and over, heavy balls hitting your ass with each shove of his fat cock inside your warmth, “Fuck,” The man heaves as he feels himself steadily growing addicted.

Why the hell didn’t he have sex with someone sooner?

“M’gonna cum,” You soon whine out to the man.

To which he clashes into you faster, feining for it, “Please, f-fuckin’ need it,” Sukuna groans before pressing down against you again.

His thrusts grow uneven and jagged, eyes rolling back when he feels you finally cumming around his cock for a second time. You were squeezing him so tight. All he could do was moan at how perfect you were.

“Shiit,” He huffs, his cock twitching wildly inside you before his mind goes completely blank, “I love you-“

Your brows immediately twist up, “Wha-“

And then he’s painting your walls white. Grunting, groaning, moaning-, hell, you name it and the sound was leaving his lips as he fucks his orgasm into you.

Then he’s babbling mindless little praises of, “Love this fuckin’ pussy,” Lost in filling you with his cum and listening to you whimper from overstimulation.

Gifting you with praise after praise about how beautiful you are under him like this, how much he adores his name rolling off your tongue. He can’t even fathom how much cum is spilling into you, velvety thick ropes painting your walls a creamy white to the point where it spills out of you and coats his hefty base with a filthy ring of white. 

All while he continued to praise you, going as far as thank you in quiet little whispers. God, he was out of his mind. He wasn’t thinking in the slightest, his mouth was just saying shit.

So much so that he’s barely lucid as his high comes down, doesn’t process a thing he said to you moments ago, and just lays there for a while with his cock resting inside you. All he can do is pant heavily as he rests his body on top of you, not yet pulling out and leaving his softened cock inside you.

You’re completely still beneath him for a while, trying to catch your breath as your legs feel temporarily numb. You couldn’t get those three words he spoke to you out of your head.

His tone was so damn soft and vulnerable, just replaying it in your head made you smile. Before he notices your expression though, you wipe the smirk off of your face and coo his name softly, “Sukuna…?”

“Don’t.” Is all he has to say to you. He was well aware of what he’d said to you.

He didn’t mean it, of course. He was simply… lost in the moment.

“Aww,” You purr, an obvious breathlessness to your tone, “You said you loved me cause I took your virginit-“

Sukuna lets out a mean groan before moving your legs apart so he can meet your eyes again, “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

You flash a pout to mock him, “Why? ‘Cause I didn’t say it back?”

His face is all different shades of blush but he still looks as mean and grumpy as ever, “No…”

“You sure?” You tease further.

All he can do is roll his eyes at you, “Fuck you.”

And, naturally, you only continue, “I think you did that already…”

Sukuna sighs, “Just.. Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“As long as you promise we’ll do this more often.”

“I-, hah,” He smirks, “What are you, some kinda cockhungry slut?”

“No…” Your eyes drag themselves elsewhere for a moment, “But for you, maybe.”

“Mh.” Sukuna hums deeply, an unavoidable smile spreading across his face, “I think I like that.”

“I think you love it-“

“M’gonna ‘love’ fucking the snarky responses outta’ your mouth in a second if you keep it up,” He says flawlessly.

All you can do is swallow down whatever it is you were going to respond to that with.

To which he smiles, “Uhuh, that’s what I thought.”

Edit after leaks: sorry not sorry to spoil: rip unckuna & fuck gege, bring back gojo NOW. I’m not playin 😂

[misswynters]

Brothel

Sevika x afab!reader / wc: ?

warnings: 18+, BITING (thanks to ep. 3), smut with no plot, dom! sevika, fingering, sub! reader

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned <3

let me know if you would like to be tagged in my writings

The dim, warm glow of the brothel's lanterns cast a haze over the room, filling the space with a sense of secrecy and allure. It was here, in a secluded corner draped with plush cushions, that you found yourself in Sevika's strong embrace. Her presence was magnetic, her intensity drawing you in with every touch, every stolen glance. This was unfamiliar territory for someone from Piltover, yet with Sevika, it just felt right.

She watched you with a smirk, her eyes dark and calculating, her gloved metal hand tracing a line down your arm with an almost possessive air. "You Piltover types don't usually end up here," she teased, her voice low and gravelly.

"What's the matter? Too good for this side of the bridge?" Your breath hitched as her lips found the curve of your neck, sharp and demanding, leaving a trail of warmth across your skin. You felt yourself leaning into her, yielding to the strength of her body pressed against yours. Sevika's hands roamed confidently, as if claiming every inch of your body with each touch.

Somehow, she knew just how to ignite every nerve, her fingers tracing lines that left you breathless. Her lips brushed against your neck, and you couldn't hold back the quiet moan that slipped from your lips. Her hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. "That's it," she murmured, her voice a rough whisper. "I knew you'd like it."

As her mouth moved lower, she grinned against your skin, savoring every reaction. The pleasure was intense, building like a fire within you, and when her teeth grazed your collarbone, you couldn't help but let your own teeth sink into her shoulder in response, a desperate attempt to steady yourself against the overwhelming sensation. Sevika's body tensed slightly, and instead of pulling away, she let out a low, satisfied growl.

"Not as innocent as you look, are you?" she murmured, clearly enjoying the way you clung to her, marking her with your bite. She shifted slightly, pulling you even closer. "You're just full of surprises," she chuckled, her hand sliding up to cup your face, guiding you to look into her eyes. The intensity in her gaze was undeniable, dark and filled with a hunger that sent a thrill through you.

"Go on," she urged, her voice low and filled with anticipation. "If that's what you need... don't hold back."

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words died as her mouth brushed along your jaw, trailing down to the sensitive skin of your neck. The sensation was intense, each touch unraveling your carefully constructed composure. Her gloved metal hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, grounding you against her as she pressed her lips to the hollow of your throat, lingering long enough to make you shiver.

A low chuckle escaped her as she felt you tremble. "There it is... just let go. Don't fight it." Her voice was a rumbling whisper against your skin, full of knowing confidence. She bit gently at your collarbone, and a strangled gasp escaped you. Without thinking, you clutched her shoulders, sinking your teeth yet again, into her as a means of grounding yourself. Desperately trying to find anything to hold onto in the face of the overwhelming pleasure she’s giving you.

To your surprise, Sevika let out a low, appreciative growl, her eyes flashing with a thrill you hadn't expected. "Now that's more like it," she purred, her smirk growing as she pulled back just enough to look at you. Her gaze was predatory, dark with a mixture of approval and challenge. "Not so prim after all, are you?"

You felt heat rise to your face, but she didn't give you a chance to reply, her hand sliding down your back, pressing you closer against her. "Good. I want you to feel every second of this," she whispered, her voice low and intense.

"So don't hold back on me. Let me hear you."

Her hand slid down to your thigh, guiding it up over her hip with a firm yet gentle touch. She held you steady, her eyes never leaving yours as her fingers traced firm, reassuring circles against your skin. "I'm right here," she murmured. "Just relax... let me take care of you." Her voice was a steady anchor, pulling you deeper into the moment, every word laced with that commanding edge that made your pulse race.

The sensations were intense, overwhelming, and every time you felt yourself losing control, her hand would tighten, guiding you back, her voice a steady whisper against your ear. "That's it... just like that," she murmured, encouraging you with a gentleness that was almost surprising. "Don't be afraid to take what you want."

Sevika's gaze held a gleam of dark intent as her metal fingers traced over your hips, the coolness of the metal sending a shiver up your spine. Her smirk deepened as she watched your reaction, clearly enjoying the way you arched instinctively under her touch.

She was meticulous, taking her time, each movement deliberate as she let her hand linger, mapping out every inch of your skin with the smooth, unyielding surface.

"Relax," she murmured, her voice low and commanding as she slid her hand lower, the metal a striking contrast against the warmth of your skin. "You wanted something different, didn't you?" Her lips were close to your ear, her breath hot as her fingers pressed just a little harder, testing the limits of your comfort. She worked in slow, steady circles against your clit, applying just enough pressure to make your heart race.

Her other hand remained warm and grounding on your thigh, keeping you still as she let her metal fingers explore, her touch both soothing and electrifying. Each motion sent sparks through you, the contrast between warmth and coolness, softness and hardness, blending into a sensation that had you on edge. You tried to stifle a gasp, but Sevika noticed, her smirk deepening.

"Oh, don't hold back now," she drawled, her voice laced with a teasing edge. "I want to hear you."

Sevika's touch was almost too much, the metal fingers moving inside you reaching deeper, each steady motion making you shudder. She watched every reaction, her gaze sharp, her focus never wavering. You felt yourself losing control, every movement of her fingers inside you driving you closer to the edge. Each slow, deliberate touch made you tremble, your breath hitching as you tried to stifle the sounds escaping you.

"Sevika... I.." you gasped, struggling to find words as the intensity built. Her fingers moved with calculated precision, unrelenting, and as you continued to reach your climax, you instinctively tried to pull back. But Sevika's hand tightened on your thigh, holding you firmly in place, her gaze narrowing as she watched you squirm beneath her.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere," she murmured, a smug grin on her lips as she took in the effect she had on you. "I told you, I want you to feel every second of this."

Sevika's fingers worked expertly, her movements rhythmic and deliberate, each motion coaxing out more of the heat building inside you. The room was filled with the unmistakable, wet sounds of her fingers moving inside your folds. The wetness coated her metal fingers, glistening in the dim light as they slid in and out with ease. The noises growing louder with every movement, that it surely can be heard from outside the room. Luckily everyone knew better than to interrupt when sevika has business with you.

She noticed, a grin spreading across her lips as she looked down, clearly proud of the effect she had on you. "You hear that?" she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. "That's all you, making such a mess for me." You whimpered, your face flushed as you tried to turn away, but she guided your chin back with her free hand, forcing you to meet her intense gaze.

"Don't hide from me. I want to see every reaction," she ordered, her voice both commanding and gentle. Her fingers continued their steady rhythm, now slick with your arousal, each movement creating an unmistakable wet, squelching sound that filled the small room. The sensations were almost too much, and as her fingers pressed against your clit, you instinctively tried to pull back, feeling the heat of pleasure growing almost too intense. But Sevika's other hand pressed firmly on your upper thigh, keeping you anchored to her, her grip strong and unyielding. "Don't even think about it," she growled softly, amusement coloring her tone.

"You're going to stay right here and take it." Her gaze flicked down to where her long slender fingers were inside. Her smirk only grew as she watched the way her hand gleamed, coated in your arousal.

"So damn wet... all for me," she muttered, almost to herself, as if fascinated. As the pleasure intensified, you couldn't hold back the noises slipping from your lips, and Sevika noticed, lifting her hand toward your mouth. "Bite down if you have to," she commanded gently, her voice low and almost possessive. You hesitated but felt another wave of sensation, so you did as she instructed, biting down gently on her rough palm, your muffled moans blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds her fingers created. You were so lost in the pleasure of her fingers that you count control yourself, slobbering over her hand. And she liked it.

"Good girl," Sevika murmured, her words filled with approval as she felt you tense and writhe beneath her. The pace of her fingers quickened, each movement slick and unrelenting, the wetness intensifying as she continued, her fingers gliding in and out effortlessly. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your skin as she whispered, "Let go for me. Don't hold back."

The pressure built to a breaking point, her fingers working in relentless rhythm, the wet sounds a constant reminder of just how thoroughly she had unraveled you. When the release finally overtook you, it hit like a wave, and Sevika didn't stop, her fingers coaxing out every last shudder, her smirk widening as she felt the intensity of your reaction.

"There it is," she murmured, her tone filled with satisfaction as her fingers slowed, wet and glistening from the pleasure she had pulled from you. She leaned close, brushing a gentle kiss to your cheek as you caught your breath, her eyes filled with pride. "You did good."

taglist: @untitled-locket @cestlaprincesa @ohboi @themostlesbianever

banners: @cafekitsune

[stunie]

“YOU CRAZY? I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!”

WIND BREAKER + YOU NOT RECOGNIZING THEM. ft. hayato suo, kaji ren, togame jo, & umemiya hajime x f!reader

filled request : a chunk of it -> “..reacting to drunk reader not recognizing them and they wanna take reader home but reader won’t let them and tells them to fuck off or else her boyfriend (which is right infront of her) will kick their ass..”

notes : aa ! ! i am also a sucker for plots like these !! sorry it took me a while to get to >: thank u sm for sending this in nonnie <3 (cw alcohol ; but the consumption isn’t really mentioned in this)

HAYATO SUO.

“don’t you dare touch me,” suo’s eyes widen when you’re clumsily swatting at his hand, half lidded eyes narrowing into your best attempt at a glare. your words are slow and slurred, but he still manages to understand the gist of what you’re trying to say. “my boyfriend’s gonna make you pay if you do,” you huff, pointing an accusatory finger at him and jabbing it a couple times into his chest for extra measure.

“oh?” his gaze softens a bit, unbeknownst to you, and his smile is back the second he understands what’s happening here. “your boyfriend? where is he now?”

the way your glare immediately falls at your realization almost makes him feel bad, and he’s giving you a smile of pity when your lips tug into a deep pout. “um…” you frown, eyebrows furrowing to rid of the tears already starting to blur your vision, “i don’t know…”

“you don’t know?” suo’s voice is steady, easily hiding the way he’s stifling a laugh at the sudden change in your demeanor. he’s watching with amusement as you start to sniff, hands coming to messily wipe at your eyes with your sleeve as you start babbling, spewing out things about how “you need to find your boyfriend right this second” and how you’re “all lonely now.”

“oh dear,” he chuckles, hands coming to lightly grasp around your wrists, “your boyfriend has told you not to wipe your eyes like that before, hasn’t he? you’re going to irritate the skin.”

“mhm,” you give him a shy nod before staring up at him with confusion, gaze flickering to the thumb he’s bringing to gently swipe at the tears collecting along your lashes a moment later. the way you’re stiffening up at his touch is cute— and it looks like you’ve unconsciously recognized his familiarity even in this state.

“y-you know my boyfriend?”

how endearing.

“sure. i know him pretty well,” suo smiles, hand coming to press against your lower back as you guides you forward, “so let’s find him, okay? come with me.”

KAJI REN.

“huh?” you’ve got kaji completely petrified, eyes blown open as his hands defensively shoot up in front of him the second you’re slowly waving your pepper spray back and forth— the pepper spray he had bought you, by the way. “what do you think you’re doing?”

“i’ll tell you exactly what im doing,” you retort, eyes narrowing at the alleged unfamiliar man in front of you, “i’m gonna call my boyfriend here, and he’s gonna beat your ass if you don’t leave in the next five seconds.”

ah. the slur in your voice is all it takes for the situation to suddenly click in his head. and now that he’s looking at you closer up, he’s surprised that you’re even able to stand in such a state. you’ve only come here with him, so the only way you’ll be going home is if he takes you home.

and that’s not looking very plausible right now.

he’s clicking his tongue before ripping through another lollipop, raking his fingers through his hair as he goes through the potential routes he can go with this. how the fuck was he gonna bring you home like this..? and actually, how would it make him look if people see him forcefully tossing you onto his back and booking it home?

this was a terrible situation through and through.

“um— come here,” he tries coaxing you the way he would with a stray animal, fingers coming to hesitantly pinch your sleeve to lift your arm without technically touching you, and he’s slowly moving it a couple inches to the right. “i’m your boyfriend. let’s go home.”

you shake your head.

his cheeks are flushing red when he realizes there are onlookers now, a handful of people watching the situation unfold, and you’re not helping his case at all— arms crossed across your chest as you eye him up and down suspiciously.

“c-candy,” he grumbles under his breath, deep red spreading to the tips of his ears. “i’ll give you a piece of candy if you come with me. sound good?”

TOGAME JO.

“m-my boyfriend can fight, you know” you stumble backwards, slowly backing up until your back meets with one of the tables, and it’s just great. you’re completely trapped now. he’s looming over you the next second, big hands resting on either side of you as you try to steady your breathing.

togame will be here any minute, you’re reminding yourself. this is fine.

“that so?” there’s a low chuckle from him, and he’s feigning innocence, looking around to locate this boyfriend of yours. “i don’t see him anywhere.”

your breath catches in your throat. your vision’s still dizzy, world spinning each and every time you move your head, and you search around your hips, internally cursing when you realize your purse is gone too.

no phone, and no boyfriend.

he’s moving awfully close to you now, and you can’t move— can’t call your boyfriend. “y-yeah,” you manage to stammer, thinking hard as you decide what to do. “he even taught me how to fight… so don’t test me.”

now that’s a bluff.

“oh. did he now?” togame’s brow raises at your threat, trying to resist the urge to laugh when you’re quickly nodding the next second, cute hands balling into little fists— and oh, that’s not quite how you’re supposed to do it.

but he’ll teach you another time. “so… in that case… you know what to do when a guy does— this?” his fingers wrap around your wrist before you can get a word out, pulling you forward in one swift movement.

you’re gasping as soon as you fall forward, crashing straight into his chest, and his arms are quick to wrap around you, big hand coming to pat at your head like a dog.

“oh, how weird. i didn’t think he’d teach you to hug other guys.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME. cw : he jokingly refers to himself as your kidnapper (he did not kidnap you)

“what now, haji?” your eyes narrow at the phone screen being shoved an inch in front of your face, and ume’s gone puppy mode beside you, excitedly rocking back and forth on your bed as he waits for you to hit play.

“just watch! you’ll see. press play.”

you rub at your eyes, wincing at the way your head starts to throb, still pounding from the events of yesterday. the video that plays out in front of you is completely dark for the first seconds, and you’re quick to grow impatient— seconds away from huffing and pushing his phone away until you finally hear a rustling, followed your own voice.

“haji’s gonna make you pay,” you cringe at the sound of your own voice, and there’s a loud sniffle that follows. “so take me wherever you want, ya goof. he’ll really make you regret it when he finds me.”

no way.

“‘haji’ huh!” you hear umemiya burst into a laughing fit, your face burning at the way he’s poking fun at your past self, and you hear your drunken self scoffing at him a second after. “so what kinda guy is he, huh? your kidnapper’s gotta know!”

there was absolutely no way he recorded himself carrying you home.

“he’s huuge,” the video catches your hiccup, “he can toss you around like nothing. i’m warning you now. so you can put me down if you get it.”

from the muffled sound of your voice, you think ume probably had you tossed over his shoulder, a strong arm wrapped around the back of your thighs to keep you draped over him. “that so?” he chuckles, “what’s he look like?”

“i can’t believe you,” you sigh, fingers rubbing at your temples, “you’re unbelievable.” you’re sneaking a quick glance at your boyfriend, but he’s still focused on the video, soft smile tugging at his lips. “keep listening, ‘kay baby? this is my favorite part.”

uh oh.

“he’s the prettiest boy ever!” your cheeks are immediately filling with heat at your shameless confession, hand slamming over your mouth— there was absolutely no way. “you wouldn’t believe it. you’ll know when you see ‘im. he’s gorgeous. beautiful. i looove him! don’t fall in love with my boyfriend— you better not. he’s mine.”

[k3n-dyll]

Warnings...18+, wlw, not proofread, dom!Sevika, dom!Ambessa, rough sex, porn with zero plot, oral (r!receving), strap usage, strap sucking/face fucking, spit, squirting, spit roasting Word Count: 898

Notes ☆ this is just a sleepy, disgustingly horny, rant, man. Like, more so than usual.

Sevika practically holds you down with her body, mech arm caught tight around your torso as her flesh palm paws and squeezes at your tits, her lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck and shoulder. She's enjoying the view more than she'd ever admit out loud, silver eyes fixated on the other woman that's had her head snug between your legs for what at this point feels like fucking hours. Neither of you can seem to take your eyes off of the way Ambessa's scarred back and broad shoulders move as she forces you to keep still for her, the same large hands that so gently caress your face and hold you close any other time now locked in a vice grip against your thighs, sure to leave bruises against the soft skin.

The noises coming from her sucking and lapping at your cunt are bordering on obnoxious, the amount of time you've been pushed over the edge with her mouth alone having landed you sitting in a wet spot of a collection of your own squirt and her saliva. The overstimulation has reduced you into a babbling, trembling little mess, and yet neither of them have had their fill yet.

"I c-can't, I can't..." You slur, both women letting out amused huffs of laughter at your pathetic attempt to speak. Dumbly, you think that Ambessa pulling away and Sevika's grip on your body loosening means that you finally get a little bit of a break, your sigh of relief getting cut short by Sevika's voice as she whispers into your ear.

"You're not done, doll. Hands and knees." Her coaxing is gentle, her hands keeping you steady as you switch positions with the elegance of a newborn calf. It'd be humiliating if your brain hadn't been rendered so useless, eyes half-lidded as you watch Ambessa's tear-blurred form tower over you, a hand coming to grip your chin.

"Such a pretty thing you are. You've got a little more in you, don't you angel?" Ambessa's sultry tone fills your ears, a dopey grin crossing your features at the praise as you give an equally lazy nod. Gently, she presses the red silicone hanging from her hips against your mouth, seeking permission for entrance. "Good, girl. Open that pretty mouth for me"

Your jaw slacks almost immediately, a low hum of approval escaping the woman in front of you, her murmured praises and the feeling of her hand gently palming the back of your head distracting you from the girth stuffing your jaws. Distracting you from what's happening behind you as well.

You get little warning - the bed slightly sinking in from behind and the cool touch of a metal hand against the plush of your hip before you start to feel Sevika pushing her own strap inside of you. A choked yelp of surprise escaping you at the feeling, your body tensing up.

"Uh-uh, relax... that's it, just breathe baby.." Sevika purrs, leaning down and peppering wet kisses along the arch of your back to ease your tension, though she doesnt stop her advances, each shallow pump of her hips stretching you further.

They give you grace, letting you adjust, kissing and marking you as you settle around them but the gentle front doesn't last long. Sevika can't stop herself from slamming into you from behind, admiring the way your ass jiggles with each hard thrust, her own pussy dripping against the harness at the sight of the white ring forming at the base of her cock.

Each thrust from behind forces Ambessa's strap down your throat, every gag forced from you sending strings of saliva pooling from behind your lips and onto your chin, your neck, the bed...

"You're such a fucking mess, look at that.." Ambessa chuckles as she watches you struggle to take her in your mouth, enjoying how eager you are to please, even if it turns you into well...this. She rewards your eagerness by pulling out of your mouth, barely letting you get down a few much-needed gulps of air before she's shifted the harness down off of her hips, instead shoving your face flush between her thighs, letting you taste her.

Your breathlessness doesn't stop you from lapping at her like a woman starved, fingers curling into the sheets as you do your best to focus on the task at hand without succumbing to the intensity of Sevika's sloppy pounding from behind. Their grunts and overlapping praises drown out all thought, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat, shaking and twitching as you're split between the two. The only warning you're able to give before your climax ultimately rips through your body is a couple of muffled, loud whines.

Your head falls from Ambessa's grip, the woman letting you breathe as you cum, Sevika's hips just barely slowing as you finally let go, too enthralled in the way you squirt around her, the liquid wetting both your and her lower halves.

"Gonna have so much to clean up when we're finished with this one - fuck" Sevika boasts, letting her human palm land on your ass with a thwack. Ambessa just chuckles, her palm lightly patting the side of your face to keep you grounded in reality.

"You'll get to rest that pretty head in a little while, angel..." She coos. "But we're not quite done yet..."

Donations 4 Palestine - Arcane Masterlist

Taglist: @archangeldyke-all, @delinthecut, @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery, @glass-apothecary, @cobraisveryhorny - Wanna be tagged?

We're gonna pretend I tagged the correct ppl the first time, 'kay? <3

[buckyalpine]

Chicken nuggies.

Crack thought with all the fluff. ALL the fluff. Maybe a tiny dash of angst at the start but it's to set the plot.

Everything that could have possibly gone wrong went sideways as soon as the mission started. The team was ambushed. Bucky was separated from everyone else. His trigger words blared through the speakers and there was nothing anyone could do to stop the soldier from awakening.

Worst of all, you were badly injured. Steve groaned in pain, struggling to pull himself up when he saw the solider lock his eyes on your limp form, taking long strides towards you with purpose.

That wasn't good.

"Tony-I-I need back up, y/n is-what the hell"

Steve blinked watching his friend pick you up with the utmost care, holding you securely in his arms. A hydra agent attempted to order him, only to be silenced with a knife thrown to the throat. The soldier made his way towards the exit with you along with a limping Steve trailing behind him.

"Buck-

"Быстрее" [move] he ordered, carrying you close to his chest and sitting in his designated on the spot on the jet. He didn't say a word as the others filed in, growling when Tony didn't start the engine up fast enough. No one dared look in your direction, not wanting to make the wrong move and happy that Bucky had busied himself with looking over your injuries, mumbling in Russian while letting his hand brush over your cheek.

As soon as the jet touched the ground, he was on his feet and carrying you over to the medbay, refusing to set you down until he saw a doctor ready to help. While it wasn't exactly protocol to have him in the operating room while the doctors worked, no one was interested in arguing back with him when he placed himself in a corner, watching intently. His blue eyes which were normally filled with warmth and softness were now stone cold, eyeing every single movement of what was being done to you, his gaze relaxing when the surgeon gave him a shaky thumbs up.

He sat by your side the entire time, gear still strapped to his body, watching the steady beep of your heart monitor while you slept, the rest of the team quietly waiting outside. Sam peered in, quickly retreating back when Bucky glowered at him, getting up and closing the door so you could rest. He and Steve continued to peep through the little glass window, immediately ducking when they could feel steel blue eyes watching him.

"Do we try and help or-

"I don't want to die yet, also based on what I'm seeing, y/n in the safest place she could be"

You sighed happily as you blinked awake, feeling hazy as if you were floating upon the softest of clouds. The room was bright and clean, you could have been in heaven for all you knew.

Or you were just high as a kite from all the pain killers.

Then you saw him beside you.

Such a gorgeous man.

Handsome.

One who gave you butterflies with shy smiles.

"Soldat" You giggled, reaching over to stroke his scruffy cheek, brushing your thumb over the scowl on his lips, "Hi" You admired his sharp jaw, idly tracing over his features while his mouth twitched into something of a smile, all his muscles finally relaxing seeing you awake.

You yawned, stretching yourself out like a kitten out before rolling over with a flop to face the very pretty man who was sitting at your bedside. Your admiration was cut short with the rumble of your tummy.

There was only one thing you wanted now.

"Soldat, I want chicken nuggies" You demanded, the growl of your stomach solidifying your request. He simply nodded, getting up and out of his seat, making his way over to the one place he knew you'd want your "nuggies" from.

"H-how may I h-help you" The Mc Donald's cashier stared at the numerous guns and knifes strapped to the infamous soldier, his metal arm pointing to a kids meal combo that came with a 6 piece nugget.

A little red box was placed in front of him at lightening speed but that wasn't good enough. He peered into the bag, frowning when he saw a toy that you already had. He grabbed it and placed it back onto the counter, staring at the trembling employee while they rummaged to find a new one, grabbing fistfuls and stuffing into the bag instead. The soldier nodded when he was given one you didn't have before, making his way back to ensure you were fed.

It didn't take long for the news outlets to catch on that the Winter Soldier was out buying Happy Meals.

*Tony's suit, Thors hammer, Steve's now broken shield and some gentle deprogramming later*

"Still want more nuggies" You murmured against Bucky's chest, still a little hazy while he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I'll always get you chicken nuggies, doll"

[rafecameronssl4t]

What’s good, John B? || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: After finding out John B poached the Camerons' scuba gear and telling Rafe about it, you forget just how crazy he can be.

Warnings: swearing, slight mention of sex, dark!rafe, possesisve/toxic!rafe, mention of gun, reader is abit of a bitch oops.

Word count: 932

A/n: based on s1 rafe + s1 scenes, idk if I like this one tbh, it was just fun to write. PLS SEND ME REQUESTS IM DESPERATE.

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

With scuba diving gear in hand, John B quietly shuts the door behind him. As he turns, he’s momentarily startled by your presence—the island’s kook princess, Rafe Cameron’s girl—“Oh, hey," you greet him, casually lifting your sunglasses onto your head while John B steals a glance behind you.

“Are you stalking us? Plotting your revenge, huh?” You lean your elbows against the railing, a sarcastic smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, you know what, why don’t you just go tell your boyfriend’s daddy I blew up the bilge on Druthers?” Your annoyance is palpable as a scoff escapes your lips.

You observe as he stows the scuba gear in his boat. “Everything’s good to go. Just toppin’ off these tanks,” he says with an awkward smile, raising your suspicions. “You know-“ before you can continue, a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, causing you to cut your sentence short.

As Rafe’s familiar scent envelops you, you instinctively intertwine your fingers with his, savoring the warmth and familiarity of his touch. His lips leave a delicate trail of kisses along your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Meanwhile, John B lingers awkwardly nearby.

Feeling the tension in the air, John B clears his throat, breaking the silence. “What’s good, John B?” Rafe’s voice cuts through the quiet, his tone casual yet tinged with a hint of amusement as he finally lifts his head, his mischievous grin adorning his face, contrasting with the seriousness of the situation.

“What are you- uh- doin’ here? On my boat?” Rafe questions, gesturing around as if to emphasize his point. “Isn’t this your daddy’s boat?” John B tilts his head, while Rafe’s grip around your waist tightens. “What the hell are you doing here, Pogue?” Rafe’s words slice through the tension, his patience fraying at the edges.

“Uh I don’t know if you’ve forgotten Rafe, but I work here. Yep.” John B says, climbing into his boat as Rafe rolls his eyes. “I still don’t know why Dad hired him,” Rafe mutters under his breath, his words carrying a mix of annoyance and confusion. Despite his attempt to keep it quiet, his comment is just audible enough for you to catch, eliciting a smile from you at the subtle jab. “I’m just filling up these tanks,” John B points at the scuba gear. Rafe nods slowly in acknowledgment.

“Uh-huh. Well, move along then,” Rafe waves him off with a dismissive gesture, his expression tinged with annoyance, before he gently tugs you by the hand, leading you back towards the house. As he guides you, his fingers instinctively intertwine with yours, his touch both possessive and protective.

“I don’t want to see you talking to him ever again, got it?” Rafe’s voice rumbles against your hair, his warm breath tickling your skin as he leans in closer, his grip on you tightening with each step.

~

Feeling the dryness in your throat, you quietly rise from the bed, careful not to disturb your sleeping boyfriend. Glancing around, you spot Rafe’s shirt haphazardly discarded on the floor from the previous night. You pick it up and slip it onto your body, its fabric enveloping you with a comforting familiarity. Moving silently, you leave the room and make your way to the kitchen.

As you open the fridge, the creak of the rolling doors draws your attention. Your movements halt abruptly as you come face to face with John B. His surprise is evident; he's frozen in place, caught between the two doors with scuba gear in hand, staring at you.

A sudden realization hits you—you’re only wearing Rafe’s shirt. Embarrassed, you tug it down, trying to cover yourself more adequately. "What are you doing here?" you ask, your voice a mix of confusion and curiosity.

"Uh- I'm just dropping off the scuba gear." He awkwardly steps inside, his eyes darting around as if he's unsure where to look. "What are- what are you doing... here?"

You stare at him for a few seconds, incredulous. Was he being serious? "It's my boyfriend's boat," you say pointedly, your tone making it clear just how obvious the answer should have been. John B's face flushes with embarrassment.

"It's also the only place with air conditioning, so Rafe and I are staying here," you add, but before you can finish, John B rudely cuts you off. "Rafe is here?" His tone is sharp, almost accusatory.

You purse your lips, irritated by the interruption. "Yeah. And I don't think he'll be too happy seeing you here again." You cross your arms, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

Deciding to change the topic, your eyes flicker down to the scuba tanks in his hands. "Did you top up the tanks?" you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral but firm. John B's eyes widen slightly before he averts his gaze. "Uh... no. The power's down, so the compressors were off." He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

"So, you're sneaking onto our boat at 5 a.m. with empty tanks?" you retort, tilting your head to the side and nibbling on your bottom lip. Your piercing stare makes him even more nervous. He fumbles for words, glancing around as if looking for an escape. "I'll... I'll make sure to tell Ward," you add, your voice laced with an unspoken threat.

You give him a tight-lipped smile, then turn back around to get a cup, signaling the end of the conversation. Your movements are deliberate, each one emphasizing your displeasure as you busy yourself, leaving John B to contemplate his next move in silence.

"Okay, okay. Cool. Cool," his voice trails off, a nervous edge betraying his attempt at nonchalance. "Just drop these off," he adds hastily, the clattering of the tanks echoing in the confined space. "Yeah, yeah, the middle of the room is fine," you retort, your tone laced with sarcasm as you shoot him a disapproving look.

"Yeah, this is pretty much what he told me to do," he offers weakly, his gaze shifting uncomfortably under your scrutiny. "Bye!" you dismiss him, turning away to retreat back to your room. But just as you begin to leave, John B interrupts again.

"Actually, you know, what- what exactly were you gonna tell Ward?" His laughter sounds forced, a feeble attempt to mask his anxiety. You feign innocence, shrugging casually. "Nothing much. Just that you poached their scuba gear," you reply, your words dripping with casual indifference.

John B's panic is palpable, his eyes widening in alarm. "Calm down, John B. Don't get your knickers all tied up in a knot. I'll tell them what really happened," you reassure him with a sly smile. "The compressors were down, right?" Without waiting for his response, you pivot on your heels and make your way back to Rafe.

"What took you so long?" Rafe's voice is muffled against the pillow as he reaches out for you, his eyes still heavy with sleep. You gently slide into bed beside him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "John B was here," you respond quietly.

At the mention of John B's name, Rafe perks up, his expression shifting from drowsy to alert in an instant. "John B was here? What the fuck was he doing here?" He throws the blankets off of him, the sudden motion jolting him awake as he hurriedly begins to dress.

"Rafe," you try to interject, but he doesn't seem to hear you over his rising agitation. "Rafe!" you raise your voice slightly, finally catching his attention. "He's gone now," you reassure him, though the tension in the air remains palpable.

"Well, what was he doing on my boat this early in the morning and- and what did I fucking tell you about not talking to that pogue, hmm?" Rafe's voice is sharp, his grip on your forearm tight as he confronts you, his frustration evident.

"He poached your scuba gear, Rafe. And he was trying to sneak them back without anyone noticing," you explain calmly, meeting his gaze evenly as you observe the conflicting emotions playing across his features.

"Shit. Wait until dad hears about this," Rafe mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite his anger, a familiar gleam of mischief in his eyes.

~

Walking out to the backyard to retrieve your sunglasses, the warm sunlight filtering through the trees, you feel a sudden grip on your arm. Startled, you turn to see John B standing there, his expression tense with anger.

"What-" you begin, but he cuts you off sharply. "I just got fired because of you, and I know you can't imagine that, but some people need jobs so that they can eat," he accuses, his voice dripping with resentment. In his frustration, he slaps away the sunglasses you were holding, the clatter as they hit the ground echoing in the quiet backyard.

Before you can respond, the tension is shattered by the sound of Rafe's voice. "What the fuck do you think you're doin', man?" His tone is menacing as he strides over to where the two of you are standing, his demeanor radiating fury.

Rafe's sudden appearance catches John B off guard, but he stands his ground, his jaw clenched in defiance. "Y/n, get your ass inside," Rafe commands without even sparing you a glance, his attention solely focused on John B.

"But-" you attempt to protest, but Rafe's next words cut you off sharply. "Now!" His voice is commanding, sending a shiver down your spine. With a timid nod, you obey, hurrying back into the comforting embrace of Tannyhill.

Around 10 minutes later, Rafe strides back into his room, his footsteps heavy with a mix of frustration and determination. As soon as you see him, you jump up from the bed and wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace. He's slightly taken aback by the sudden gesture but responds by pulling you closer, his embrace firm and reassuring, his hand gently stroking your hair.

"Are you okay? What happened?" you ask, concern evident in your voice as you pull back to look at him. It's only then that you notice the bruise forming around his eye, and your worry deepens.

"Yeah, don't worry about me. That pogue will soon find out he fucked up," Rafe says, his voice edged with a quiet resolve as he gazes off into the distance, his thoughts elsewhere.

"What- Rafe-" you begin, but he brushes past you and opens his drawers, pulling out a gun. Your heart drops at the sight, fear coursing through your veins. "Rafe," you whisper, your voice trembling with apprehension. "Please don't do anything stupid, please."

He turns to face you, the gun in his hand, but his expression softens into a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, sweetheart. He won't be bothering us anymore very soon," he reassures you, his tone calm yet filled with a chilling determination that sends a shiver down your spine.

[myfictionaldreams]

Slides in with a bucky request!

Can you do a possoves bucky? Like someone flirts with her and that leads to an argument that leads to to feelings coming out with marking dirty talk and rough sex? Pretty please

Always Watching // Bucky x Fem!Reader

Requested by: hey bestie, thanks for the request!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, possessive behaviour, obsession, jealousy, threats of violence, enemies to lovers, pining, unwanted attention, flirting, sexual harassment, arguing, rough kissing, biting, marking, scratching, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, light dom/sub, hair pulling, oral (f receiving), size kink

Words: 6.3k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The word used to describe your relationship with Bucky Barnes was ‘strained’. Strained because you’d prefer it if it were at least adequate, and no one could fault you for the attempts made at becoming his friend and helping him with the transition from the Winter Soldier to a member of the Avengers. In truth, you’d tried more than most to help him, especially as he was still at risk of being compromised and shifting back to the assassin’s mindset. You prided yourself on your compassion and empathy, always providing physical and mental support to Bucky, asking how he was, helping him move into the Avengers tower and adjust to going on missions.

Except, somewhere along the way, it had become evident that from at least Bucky’s perspective, you were a person to keep at arm’s length. Your questions would be ignored, and your attempts to help in medical situations would be pushed away. The only responses you’d receive were belittling comments or fierce glares that would have you backing away from the man and shutting your mouth. Even when you kept to yourself, his eyes always seemed to follow you around the room, eyes burning with what you assumed to be hatred, like he was plotting all the ways to eradicate you.

For some unknown reason, Bucky Barnes seemed to hate you, and you had no idea what you’d done to offend him. The other Avengers and agents you called your friends had all implored that he didn’t hate you, but when you stated the experience you’d received from the long-haired man, there was no response but an awkward close-lipped smile and shrug of the shoulders.

This treatment had been going on for months now, avoidance, glare and comments under his breath, and you were slowly getting to the end of your rope. Even earlier in the day, he somehow managed to get under your skin with only one sentence.

“Are you really going out in that dress?”

At first, you’d been embarrassed and somewhat mortified by his comment, wishing to cover up the beautiful dress that Natasha had helped you to pick that emphasised your body shape and the perfect colour to compliment your skin tone. Soon, the embarrassment changed to anger, finding the comment rude and unnecessary. Who was he to say what it was that you wore? Especially tonight, everyone had returned from a difficult mission and decided it was about time the team let their hair down and went to a nightclub for drinks.

Other than the comment, the rest of your night was amazing. You were feeling a light buzz from the alcohol and danced so much that your calves were beginning to burn from standing in the heels borrowed from Natasha. Even as you became lost in the music and masses of people squeezed into the club, you were still hyper-aware of the man watching you from where he was leaning against the wall.

“Does he even blink?” you shouted, attempting to be over the pounding bass to the red-haired woman you were dancing with.

Natasha tipped her head back and laughed, glancing over her shoulder a second later to assess the man who seemed to be staring at you constantly. Bucky didn’t even have the gall to look away in embarrassment, having been caught staring and that only made Nat’s smile widen as she turned back to you with a twinkle now in her eyes.

“You know why he’s staring”, she says matter of factly, swaying her hips as she talks into your ear.

Your eyes roll so hard that you have a momentary headache. “He does not have a crush on me. Can you please stop saying that? The man clearly hates me! I feel like my skin is burning from his stare, like he wishes me to combust spontaneously.”

After the tight-lipped smiles from your friends, they would often tease that maybe he was being so mean and hateful because he had a crush on you. You’d laughed initially, and some small part of you was hopeful that this was the case, but the more he belittled, embarrassed and ignored you, the more evident that was not the case.

“Maybe he’s just admiring the dress that I know he loves”, Natasha shouts confidently, grabbing your hand and twirling you around in an attempt to show off your outfit.

Despite her ridiculous statement, you laughed, “Well, he has an interesting way of admiring it! I’m going to go and get another drink. Do you need one?”

Natasha shook her head and held up her beer bottle, which was still over half full. Giving her one last smile, you made your way through the sweaty, head bobbing with the music until you finally found a free area at the bar, which was busy enough that you knew it would be a while before being served.

Someone pressed against your arm as a new person also had similar ideas to you, leaning on the bar and trying to get the staff’s attention with a click of his fingers. You took a deep breath to try and refrain from rolling your eyes at the arrogance of the man next to you, who was leaning on his forearm on the bar side.

“What are you having?” he shouted confidently with a grin, and it took you a good minute to realise he was talking to you.

“Oh, no, it’s ok. I’m getting my own drink; I’m sure it won’t take long”, you politely decline, turning your body away from him for a moment, hoping to catch the eye of the bar staff so you didn’t have to stay there any more with the guy next to you.

“Nonsense, pretty girl like you shouldn’t be buying your own drink. Come on, let me buy you a drink. I’m Chad, by the way”, he responds whilst sticking his hand out for you to shake. You stare at the hand before shaking it with a limp wrist, wanting to show that you aren’t enthusiastic about the conversation.

“Nice to meet you, Chad. I appreciate the offer, but I’m really fine buying my drink”. You pull your hand out of his grasp and try to take a step away, but there are so many people at the bar that there’s nowhere to go. Chad only moved closer, ignoring your discomfort as he leaned his face towards yours.

“Don’t be like that, Baby, it’s just a drink. Your dress is beautiful, by the way, it really makes your…eyes pop” As he spoke, he was not looking at your eyes as you crossed your arms to cover your chest. “Are you here alone? Maybe we can grab a drink and go somewhere beautiful; I’d love to get to know you on a more personal level”, Chad asked, lifting his fingers to stroke the apples of your cheeks.

“She’s not alone, and get your fucking hands off of her”, came an aggressive voice from behind as a warm chest brushed against your back.

Bucky pushed against Chad’s shoulder, giving him enough space to stand between the two of you, so now you’re staring at his back as he protectively became a shield for you.

“Hey man, what the fuck’s your problem! Who do you think you are, touching me like that?!” Chad shouted loudly enough that others began to turn and stare at the scene.

You could feel the thickness of the atmosphere, and there was nothing more you wanted to do than de-escalate the situation, not wanting Bucky to get into any further trouble as he was already being watched like a hawk by Shield.

“Bucky, please stop; everyone's staring!” you tried to pull on his arm, but he stayed completely still, ignoring you as he stared daggers at Chad.

The man looked between you and Bucky before settling on you and pointing at Bucky, “Is this guy bothering you? Listen, asshole, she clearly doesn’t want to be with you; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been out here buying her own drink, now would she? Why don’t you get lost so the pretty girl and I can get back to getting to know each other?” Chad smirked cockily.

This only made Bucky tense further, his posture straightening as he took a threatening step forward, and Chad flinched. Bucky’s gloved hands clenched at his side as you quickly did a visual check to see if he had any weapons, but you couldn’t see any in the suit jacket and jeans; you were sure he probably had them hidden up his sleeve.

Bucky took another step forward, nostrils flaring as anger radiated off of him in waves of heat, and genuine fear pooled in your stomach with how the situation escalated as you tried to push him away from Chad.

“If you ever touch her again, I promise you, I will fucking ruin your life. No, you know what, scratch that. If you so much as look at what’s mine again, there’s nowhere on this planet that you can hide; I will find you and end anything you find precious, including your life. Do you understand me?” Bucky asked, his tone surprisingly calm for promising such life-ending threats.

“What's going on here?” another voice joined the conversation as Steve and Tony appeared at your side, pushing the growing crowds back to give everyone space. You would have been thankful for their arrival had you not been staring open-mouthed up at Bucky. Not only was he threatening to kill someone for you, but you didn’t miss the possessiveness in his words and actions, and the biggest question screaming in your mind right now was what he meant by saying ‘what’s his’. Surely he didn’t mean you? Everything was becoming far more complicated than you’d anticipated.

“Is he compromised?” Tony asked in a hushed tone to you as he wrapped a hand around your upper arm, prepared to pull you away from the scene if needed.

Bucky’s eyes snapped to the hand on your arm, the glare moving to Tony’s face as the billionaire changed his stance to one like he was preparing for a fight. Your heart nearly stopped, everything becoming too overwhelming and escalating to a level that no one would be coming down from if it wasn’t stopped soon.

“No! Tony, he’s not compromised; he’s fine. There was just a misunderstanding-”

“A misunderstanding? Is that really what you are calling this situation?” Bucky demands, staring down at you whilst moving out of reach of Steve’s outreached hand.

“Bucky-” you try to reason with him, but you notice that his eyes have gone in the direction Chad seemed to disappear from. He was moving before you could even stop him, following wherever the guy had escaped. Quickly looking up at the confused Tony and Steve, you tried to reassure them whilst beginning to follow after Bucky. “Everything is fine! I’m just going to make sure he’s ok”.

You mostly needed answers than anything, feeling completely and utterly sober now and not wishing to return to the dance floor. As well as making sure that Bucky wasn’t going through with any of his threats.

You were going from being within a stuffy nightclub full of alcohol and dancing people with not enough room to move and music so loud that your voice had to strain to be able to be heard by others. To now, you’re rushing out of the entrance, out into the open air that was considerably colder, added to the fact that the heavens had opened and the rain was pouring enough that it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of you.

Any sane person would have turned right back around and reentered the club just to have some cover, but your adrenaline was pumping, and after a few seconds outside, you were already drenched, so there was no point trying to find the jacket you’d left in the cloakroom.

You follow in the direction Bucky had stormed off, trying to weave through the people running through the rain and past the busy New York traffic. “Bucky!” You called out for him while wrapping your arms around your chest, trying to keep some of the warmth you’d found in the club, but the more you were out in the open, the more the rain wholly soaked your body, drawing the freezing temperatures into your bones.

You stare at his back as he continues to walk with a purpose; you aren’t even sure if he’s following Chad anymore or just needs some air. You try your hardest to keep up, even with the struggle of the slippy wet floor and your ridiculous choice of heels burning your calves enough that you contemplated risking the sanity of the bottom of your feet by taking them off.

“Please, just wait, Bucky!” you shout to the man in front, who, of course, doesn’t slow down. You were at your wit's end, cold and drenched from the rain, confused by Bucky’s reaction in the club, not just from Chad but also the look from Tony grabbing your arm. There was clearly something more going on, and him running away, potentially on the warpath, was only making your anxiety increase to the point of wanting to scream.

Distracted with your rolling emotions, you hadn’t noticed that you were no longer following anyone as the street in front of you only had the occasional couple walking past with umbrellas over their heads.

You’d somehow lost Bucky.

“Shit!” you curse to the sky, letting the rain pour down over your face, unsure of what to do. You could return to the club, but you were now much closer to the tower than you were to the club and at least back at the tower, you could use Jarvis to assist with trying to track and find Bucky.

Before you could follow through with your decision, a gloved hand wrapped around your upper arm, pulling you quickly into an alleyway that had some shelter above your head, protecting you from the rain. Just as your mouth opened to scream and combat training reflexes moved to punch whoever had grabbed you, the movements were halted as you became face-to-face with a very pissed-off Bucky Barnes.

All air rushed from your lungs as you were forcefully pushed up against a wall as Bucky leaned his metal arm beside your head, leaning over you. Even though his blue eyes were burning with more intensity than you’d ever seen before, you still sighed in relief that he hadn’t rushed off somewhere, but now you just had to deal with the confrontation you were hoping for.

“Go back to the party”, he demands in a voice so low that you almost coward from him. Still, instead, you held your ground, pushing off the wall, expecting him to move back in a show of confidence, but he remained hovering close enough that it only meant that there were a few inches between your faces.

In the shadows of the alleyway, he looked threatening, especially with his bulky silhouette, but for some reason, he looked somewhat like a fallen angel. The fierceness in his swirling ocean blue eyes that devoured you completely, the height and strength that was trained through every single inch of muscle throughout his body, even his shoulder-length hair left unbound and dripping from the rain, gave him a mysterious look. It was nearly enough to distract you from the events that had taken place. Nearly.

“What? No! I’m not going back to the party. What even happened back there?”, you demanded, trying to remain as confident as you’d felt when leaving the club and not letting the adrenaline altogether go from your system.

Bucky looks away, towards the end of the alleyway in thought before finally muttering, “It was nothing”.

You scoff, “It wasn’t nothing! You threatened to kill the guy in there, Bucky! And what was all that with Tony? I saw the look you gave him! Oh, and what did you mean by touching what was his?”

To your shock, Bucky smirked, but his gaze was so vibrant when he turned back to look at you that, on instinct, you took the step back again to press against the wall. “I told you not to wear that stupid dress,” he says under his breath, like he is telling you a well-kept secret but is forcing himself to say the words.

You frown, your chest restricting, making it difficult to breathe. “The dress? Why do you hate this dress so much, I can wear whatever the fuck I want, Bucky! Stop trying to change the subject! Everything you do is so confusing. For months, you've acted like me even breathing in the same room as you is an inconvenience and then you’re threatening some asshole guy at the bar and protecting me? What’s that about?”

“Because I knew I’d have to be fighting off dickheads like him all night! That’s why I have an issue with the dress. When men like him take one look at you and assume that they have any right to even talk to you, let alone any of the other fucked up shit he was hoping to get from you”.

His outburst shocked you to the core, leaving you stunned and fumbling to think of any words. “I…I don’t understand where this is all coming from. Wait, aside from Chad, no one is allowed to talk to me? Who do you think you are to decide something like this? Maybe I want a cute guy to buy me a drink!”

“You’re naive if you think guys will only want to buy you a drink and nothing more”.

Your face heats uncontrollably at his words, hating the condescension lacing his words. “Don’t talk to me like that! Maybe that’s just what I want anyway. Someone nice to buy me a drink and treat me with kindness that clearly you won’t give me! So how dare you try to dictate my life by saying what I wear means you’ll have to be my knight in shining armour! You don’t have to do anything for me, these past few months have clearly shown you don’t give a shit about me so why care so much what people do to me?”

“You don’t understand”, he seeths through gritted teeth.

You want to scream in frustration from the lack of answers, letting all the energy form in your arms and hands as you pushed on his chest, needing some space between both of your bodies, but he was built of stone as he didn’t move at all.

“Then explain!” you shout in frustration, the heat and adrenaline returning to your veins. “Because I’m losing my fucking mind right now! Why do you act like you hate me one minute and save me another whilst acting like you have any sort of say as to what I wear and who touches or looks at me?” 

“Because he touched what’s mine!” Bucky bellows, his face dropping close to yours as a vein bulges on his temple. “Call it jealousy, call is possessive, I don’t fucking care. Do you know how hard it is to see you in the line of fire at work and then come out to places like this and watch every guy and woman in this place have their eyes all over your body, wishing that they could have you? And then watching that asshole Chad come and talk to you, giving you those compliments and then having the nerve to touch you? He was a dead man walking”.

Your mouth opens and closes, feeling like you are having an out-of-body experience. “But… but you hate me”, you say, sounding as defeated as you felt.

Bucky scoffs again with less anger this time, the tone of his voice calming slightly as he leans closer, crowding you in his warmth. “I don’t have you, sweetheart, but I’m so fucked up in here”, he points to his head, “I can’t risk being near you”.

“Bucky-”

“Just go back to the party. I’ll call you a cab; just don’t follow me.”.

A lump forms in your throat. There’s no way you’re leaving him to go back to the club, and just as you’re about to tell him that, he’s suddenly dipping his head and cheek against yours so that he can whisper into your ear. “Just know that even though I’m not there, I’ll know if someone is looking at you. Your body is for my eyes only, so if anyone approaches, they’re dead”. 

The breath hitches in your throat as your fingers clench, and you remember that they’re still resting on Bucky’s chest as you grip his shirt tightly. The warmth against your face retreats as he attempts to move back, and it is out of instinct that you glance towards his lips. You’ve never experienced anyone becoming possessive over you before. It should have had you running in the opposite direction, but your feet remained planted in that same spot, leaning towards the protective force in front of you.

Bucky then surprises you as you watch his frowning lips shift into a knowing smirk, laughing under his breath which causes a pulse of attraction through your cunt. “Oh Doll, you’re going to need to stop looking at me like that; otherwise, you won’t be returning to that party”.

A surge of confidence rocks through your core as your gaze burns into his intricate, beautiful eyes, “What if I don’t want to go back to the party?”.

You try not to jump away from the gloved hand, now cupping your jaw, tilting your face up towards the covering, shading you both from the continuing thrashing rain. The warmth of his breath skips over your exposed throat as he runs his nose along your skin, causing a shiver to rush down your spine. “You don’t mean that?” his tone had deepened and sounded increasingly strained, as if he was somehow holding himself back.

You weren’t entirely sure what was happening and how everything had changed to such a degree. All you were 100% certain about was that there was no way you would be going back to any party without Bucky.

“I mean it more than you could ever know”, you say with a rush of breath, finding it difficult to hold back the restraint to continue looking up entirely at his mercy simply.

Bucky contemplates your words as his nose drifts lower, and your heartbeat thumps hard in your chest. You are sure that you’ve felt the delicate kiss of his lips against the sensitive skin beneath your ear. “I think you like it when I show you who you belong to”, Bucky states with arrogance and sultry need that equally has your knees weakening.

The pure desire pooling in your underwear was becoming impossible to ignore, like a flame had been lit within your body and was slowly devouring your rational thoughts. A weak moan escapes your lips as your eyes drift close.

“Bucky…” you trail off, beginning to tremble, not from the low temperatures or being soaked through from the rain, but because your arousal had hit you so deeply that he consumed all thoughts.

“Yes?” Bucky asks as he laughs throatily at how you were so easy to succumb to his advances.

“Just fucking kiss me already!”

The pleasure and pain that enveloped your body was something that you’d crave and dream about for months to come. Pain because his lips pushing into yours with such force that your body was pushed back against the brick wall, but the overwhelming pleasure from finally feeling his mouth on yours, the hand gripping your jaw moving to the back of your head to cradle it with gentleness that you were surprised he as even capable of. The urgency didn’t end there, even as you finally received what you both had truly wanted for all of this time. You needed more of him, all of him, every single inch of his body you wanted to feel without the barrier of his clothes.

Bucky’s nose pushed into your cheek as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, both of your mouths opening to allow your tongues to dance and caress one another. You moaned, tasting the mint on his tongue and something that was so uniquely him your mind momentarily lost any coherent thought.

His massive body was pressed against yours so that you were consumed by him completely. Which also meant that you could feel the hardness of his arousal rutting into your stomach as he gently rolled his hips to try and relieve some pent-up frustration.

You were ready to give him everything, right there, in a random alleyway in rainy New York, where anyone could stumble upon the two of you. Thankfully, Bucky still could hold onto some restraint as he put some distance between you.

“As much as I’d love to fuck you in front of everyone, I have the sneaky suspicion that Fury would not be pleased if a member of the Avengers were caught having a quickie out in public”.

In any other situation, you probably would have laughed at the absurdity and realisation as to just how far gone you’d become to actually be ready to lift your dress and let him fuck you. However, you were so caught up in the fact that this was happening and hearing the beautiful man in front of you say that he wanted to fuck you in a public setting only added to the deep desire from his possessive tendency to increase.

Bucky pressed a chastising kiss to your temple as he began to shrug his jacket from his shoulders to then wrap it around yours, and you could have moaned at the warmth and mouthwatering scent of his cologne surrounding you. The man you thought hated you didn’t give you any time to lose your senses as he grabbed your hand and tugged you out of the alleyway and back into the startling freezing rain.

As the Avengers tower was only a couple blocks away, it was easier for the two of you to run in the rain, with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, using his big build to shield you somehow from the wetness, but you were already soaked.

Finally, once in the safety of the private elevator that was only used for residents of the tower, you both were once more consumed with each other. His jacket was pushed to the floor so he could run his gloved hands over your shoulders and back to cradle your face.

Your back was against the elevator wall as he crowded around you, trying to taste every possible area of your mouth. Your leg lifted, hooking around his hips and causing your dress to hitch further up your thigh until it rested around your waist, pulling him closer.

In this position, he was able to thrust his tented jeans against your panties, the rough material catching your clit and causing an obscene moan to echo around the small space. His lips left yours but only so that he could kiss down the side of your neck, causing more mewls and pathetic squeaks to leave your parted mouth.

“I want the whole world to know you’re mine”, he declares as his teeth scrap against the area where your shoulder and neck meet. The same part of you that was throbbing for his possessive tendencies needed him to do whatever he was alluding to. To persuade him to continue, you ran your fingers up his firm chest, scratching up his throat and to the nape of his neck so that you were able to grab a handful of his hair and tug him even closer.

However, arriving at the Avengers’ living quarters interrupted the two of you. Without missing a beat, Bucky's hands lowered to your thighs, picking you up so that your legs were now wrapped around his waist as he supported your weight with his hands on your arse.

Your fingers remained in his hair, pulling his face back to your neck as he began to suck on different areas, marking your skin with darkening, wet patches. The tiny reasoning voice at the back of your mind was warning you that you’d regret those marks tomorrow, but with the want and need to have his lips and teeth all over your body, you couldn’t care less if he was marking you.

Everything about his touch was seering in heat, even though those leather gloves still covered his hands. It was as if you could feel the temperature of his burning skin through the material, and it only made you more desperate to claw at his clothes. Equally, Bucky needed to feel more of your soft skin and learn every inch of your body.

You were only half aware that you’d entered his bedroom because the low lighting had naturally turned on by the building's sensors. It was minimalistic, and for a second, your focus zoned into the sheets and pillow led out on the floor and not on the bed, which was just a bare mattress that he all but dropped you into the centre of.

His lips were on yours again, and you were thoroughly distracted from the makeshift bed on the floor. The sharp sting of his teeth grazing your bottom lift caused you to mewl and pull on his hair, exposing his thick neck that gave you the opening to begin your exploration, licking and teasing until he was shivering and sitting back on his knees.

You admired him momentarily as he seemed to do the same for you. His handsome face was flushed with arousal, the pupils in his eyes so vast that it was almost as if the clear blue didn’t exist anymore. His chest was heaving with steading breaths as he began to pull on each of the fingers of his gloves.

“How expensive is the dress?” he asked, eyeing the cleavage that had been his downfall all night.

“It’s Natasha’s”, you answered breathlessly.

“I’ll buy her a new one”, Bucky mumbles, gripping the edges of the dress and tearing the material into two. You gave a startled scream as you were suddenly left in your underwear, but the shock at being exposed was swiftly distracted by him ripping his shirt directly down the centre so all the buttons popped off, and the material shrugged off his broad shoulders.

Even though this wasn’t the first time you’d seen him without a shirt on, your breath caught in your breath at his beautifully sculptured chest and abs, mouth already watering with the need to lick every inch of him.

“Be a good girl for me, Doll and spread your legs”, he demands with surprising gentleness, still sitting back on his knees and stroking a soft caress against your outer thighs.

A pathetic whimper bursts from your chest at the praise, pussy clenching with need that you didn’t waste a second before opening your legs. Even though you still had your panties on, Bucky's gaze became hungry, as if he was a man on the brink of starving to death as he licked his lip and began to lower his body.

“You don’t understand how long I’ve wanted to do this”, he admits, gripping the edge of your underwear and beginning to drag the material down your legs.

You smile to yourself, straightening yourself in the centre of the bed and getting comfortable as your legs naturally lay across his shoulders as he led stomach first on the bed.

“Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you”, you tease, but all the smug arrogance is drowned out by the pornographic scream from feeling his tongue taking a long, exaggerated lick from your perineum to your clit. You weren’t sure who was louder between the two of you with the moans as Bucky finally was able to taste the girl he’d been wanting for months and you for having someone actually wanting to give you some form of pleasure.

Every time you made a noise of pure joy or increased in volume, Bucky repeated the action, learning what you loved. Your thighs were nearly suffocating him with how hard they were squeezing around his face, and you knew that he would happily die right there between your legs if that’s what you truly wanted. Then there was the hair you were clenching, probably having ripped out two handfuls as you pulled on his long hair, hoping to have him as close as possible between your legs.

“Fuck Bucky! Who taught you how to do that- AH! I’m so close!” your back was arched, eyes clenched tightly closed as the pleasure was tightening within your core. His tongue lapped with quick flicks, firming the tip to add more pleasure as he pushed it into your dripping pussy. His moans added extra stimulation as you happily came all over his face, trembling and twitching cunt around his lips and tongue.

Just as Bucky was about to add two fingers into your still pulsing hole, you shouldn’t take the wait anymore and begged, “Please just fuck me already, Barnes!”

The Avengers grinned down at you as he began to crawl up your body, nipping each of your breasts with his teeth through your bra as he moved. Your cheeks warmed, seeing the shine over his stubble from your juices that he’d been happily drinking. Your thoughts didn’t remain on this fact for long though as he was kissing you feverishly once more, meaning you could now taste yourself on his lips.

With his mouth thoroughly distracting, you’d not noticed that he’d been unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans and boxers down his toned thighs. Without waiting until they were entirely removed from his body, he swiped his cock between your folds, coating his length in your liquids.

Your mouth gaped open as the tip of his cock nudged into your entrance, stretching it to a level that you’d not been used to. “Shh, it’s ok, Doll, you can take me”, he promised, with one hand holding your hip steadily and the other against your cheek so he could hold your face still.

 He was so deep, impossibly deep. You could feel him everywhere, widening your cunt until you were fluttering around his cock, and he hadn’t even begun fucking you properly yet.

“Nearly there, try and relax for me”, Bucky praises into your ear as your eyes widen, realising that it wasn’t even the entire length of him inside of you yet. Only as he was pushing into your cervix did your head fall back, and you sighed out. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well. Put your arms around my back; you’re going to need to hold onto something”, he boasts as you try and take a deep breath, your fingers reaching around his back, nails digging into the skin to give yourself something to hold onto.

Spreading his knees further apart on the bed, Bucky readjusts his position to gain more momentum. The man fucked good. More than good. You were pretty much pleading incoherently to whatever gods were above or below. There wasn’t anything you were begging for, just whatever it was that Bucky seemed to be doing, that it never stopped.

Each stroke caressed that sweet spot within, and with the way his hips rolled, he was able to nudge your clit with his body. Added to the mouth on your neck, biting and licking the sore spots to ease the ache, his hands pinning you down to the bed only added to the raw possessiveness dictating Bucky’s movements.

Harder and faster, his hips moved. The thick cock pounding into your cunt until you were seeing stars and cumming again, squeezing him so hard he had to still his hips to stop his own orgasm from spiralling.

But then, he's pulling out and turning you onto your front, spreading your legs once more and demanding, “Arch your back for me, Sweetheart”. Doing as he instructed, your still-covered breasts pressed into the mattress as your hips angled up. With one hand holding onto your shoulder and the other on your hip, he began to fuck you with just as much enthusiasm.

In this position, he somehow felt even more deeper, and all you could do was cry out and moan with how good he felt.

“Tell me you’re mine, I need to hear you say it”, Bucky grunts as you came for the third time, becoming overstimulated and disorientated with how good you felt.

Your cunt was still squeezing with the effects of the orgasm as you repeatedly told him, “I’m yours, only yours, Bucky”.

Bucky’s head tilted back so that he could release an almighty grunt, the hands on your body tightening enough that the skin became tender, but you didn’t care at all, not with how good you were feeling. You could feel his cock throbbing and the wetness that followed, dripping from your hole and onto the mattress beneath.

It was a long few minutes before he eased out and collapsed onto the mattress beside you, the two of you breathing heavily as his metal fingers stroked slowly down your spine and his lips followed.

“You should have told me earlier”, you whisper over your shoulder to him.

“Hmm?” he asks, moving up to your shoulder, where he carefully kissed the skin that was tender from his grip moments before.

“You should have told me how you felt”, you explain, thinking about how much time was wasted.

“Maybe. But then, I wouldn’t have had so much fun threatening everybody for looking at you”, he answers with a grin, kissing your cheek once before climbing off the bed and returning with the sheets from the floor.

[winterarmyy]

He Hates Me, Doesn't He?

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: You hurt Bucky's girl, and now he hates you.

Pairing: tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Words: 6.7k++

Warnings: angstyyyyyyyyy, but with happy ending because I cannot live in agony. miscommunication galore. 'I want to strangle bucky's girlfriend.' soft reader, cold/mean bucky. bucky should've grovel more. horrible attempt of writing verbal arguments. nothing much but pain.

Inspiration: I remember reading a bucky fic years ago and I like the pain that it caused me to feel. Idk why the pain suddenly came back to me lately. So, this is my take on the same idea. I haven't able to find it. But when I do, I'll reblog it in my another acc!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

y/n had always been a steady presence in the Avengers, known for her gentle demeanour and unwavering support. Her relationship with Bucky Barnes had blossomed from a quiet friendship into something deeper. When they first met, Bucky was reserved and hesitant, still grappling with his past as the Winter Soldier. y/n, with her gentle nature and patient understanding, slowly helped him come out of his shell.

She remembered the sleepless nights they spent together when they were on the run with Steve and Sam. They'd share stories, and sometimes just sit in silence, her quiet company offering solace to Bucky's restless mind. The unspoken bond growing stronger with each passing day. Bucky looked up to her, finding comfort in her presence, and in turn, he became fiercely protective of her. They'd watch each other's backs during missions, their synergy on the battlefield a testament to their deep connection. 

And somewhere along the line, she fell for him. She had fallen for Bucky's resilience and vulnerability, though she never expected more, knowing that a relationship was not what he needed right now. At least, that's what she thought. Little did she know, Bucky had always loved her; ever since the day she offered him tea the first night they were on the run to Wakanda. Maybe she was just simply aloof, or maybe Bucky’s flirting skills weren’t translated the way he wanted, but they never crossed the line between friendship and ‘something more’.

Then when Jen came into the picture, it felt like things started to change. Jen was bold and confident, and it wasn't long before she caught Bucky's eye. Their relationship seemed to spring up overnight, and y/n, though hurt, tried to be happy for Bucky. Jen was supportive and caring, or so it seemed, and Bucky deserved happiness.

Now, as planned the team was instructed to moved into the Avenger compound for a few months to train new recruits. It had only been the first month but surely it was jam packed with endless of rigorous training sessions. The original team—y/n, Sam, Bucky, Jen, Clint, and his mentee Kate Bishop—were all assigned to train the new recruits, with additional of few agents from different branches coming in to help out.

y/n was heading to the training room; she knew it was way too early but she thought that if she didn’t get out of bed now, she might not even get up at all. To her surprise, she was not the first one. She saw a few new trainees were already on the way to the training room; some of them greeted her a good morning. She simply smiled at their enthusiasm. 

The moment she entered the area, she overheard voices coming from the corner of the room. She paused, recognizing Jen's voice, which was raised and laced with contempt. Curiosity piqued, y/n stepped closer, staying just out of sight behind the white board. In hindsight, it might seem weird that she was sneaking around to eavesdrop on Jen, but she couldn't help it.

Initially, y/n liked Jen. She tried to welcome her into their tight-knit group and even supported her relationship with Bucky. However, as time went on, Jen began acting strange. The things she said about Bucky sometimes sounded condescending. She would make comments like, "It's amazing how well he's adjusted, considering his past," or, "It's great that he's trying so hard to be normal." The way she acted often differed from her words, with Jen giving Bucky disapproving glances or sighing heavily whenever he mentioned something from his troubled past.

She had noticed these discrepancies and started to feel uneasy around Jen. She couldn't shake the feeling that Jen’s support was just a facade. Now, standing behind the whiteboard, she strained to hear the conversation.

"…and honestly, I don’t understand how anyone can trust him," Jen was saying. "I mean, sure, he's got that whole 'reformed hero' thing going on now, but let’s be real. He was Hydra’s pet assassin for decades. The things he’s done? It’s unforgivable."

Her friend, another agent from a different branch, nodded hesitantly. "But you’re dating him, aren’t you? Doesn’t that mean you trust him?"

Jen laughed, a cold, humourless sound. "Dating him? Please. I’m in it for the fame and the perks. Have you seen the way people look at us? Besides, he’s hot, I’ll give him that. But trust him? Never. People like him don’t change. They’re broken. He's a monster, and he always will be. It’s only a matter of time before he snaps again."

y/n felt a surge of anger rise within her. How dare Jen talk about Bucky like that? 

Memories flooded her mind, flashing back to Bucky’s nightmare-plagued nights. She remembered the prominent dark circles under his eyes, the haunted look that never quite left his face. The silent pain he endured, adjusting to a modern world where he felt like an outsider, magnified when Steve left. She could still see the wary, suspicious glances people cast in his direction, the whispers behind his back when they first ventured out. Before the fame he acquired as he regained his reputation after the Flag-Smasher incident.

She had witnessed his hardships firsthand—the nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat, the moments of crippling doubt and self-loathing. But she had also seen his triumphs, the small victories that slowly built his confidence. The first time he laughed freely in her presence, the genuine smile that lit up his face when he finally allowed himself to relax. She cherished those moments, the sunshine that broke through the clouds of his tortured past.

All of this came rushing back, breaking the chains on the Pandora's box inside of her. The fury she felt wasn't just for the disrespect to Bucky; it was for every ounce of pain he had suffered, every moment of joy he had fought so hard to reclaim. Her eyes hardened with resolve as she stepped forward, her voice steady but cold. "Take that back," she demanded, her presence startling both Jen and her friend.

Jen turned slowly, a smirk spreading across her face as she saw y/n. She knew from the beginning about the cute little crush y/n had on Bucky. To be frank, everybody sort of knew about it, except for Bucky somehow. 

"Or else what, y/n?" she replied with a mocking tone. "You’re quite pathetic aren’t you? You think that I can’t see how you’ve been eye-fucking my boyfriend all this time? Come on, now. Backing him up would not give you a leeway into his pants, y/n."

y/n’s face went through a range of emotions—shock, embarrassment, and then seething anger. Jen’s words were like poison, each one landing like a punch to the gut.

Jen continued, confidence oozing out of her cocky demeanor, "Besides, we all know that I can easily beat you in a fight, doll" 

The use of doll—a nickname Bucky had given y/n from day one, when Steve had quite literally kidnapped Bucky from the government—made y/n blood boil. Hearing it from Jen felt like a personal attack, a deliberate attempt to undermine everything she shared with Bucky.

And it was true that Jen had graduated top of her batch from the Avengers program and had countless successful missions under her belt, but y/n knew this wasn't about accolades or abilities. This was about something deeper, something more personal.

y/n clenched her fists, taking a step closer. "You think this is about who can fight better?" she said, her voice shaking with restrained fury. "This is about respect. You don’t get to talk about Bucky like that."

Jen scoffed, a cruel smile on her lips. "Respect? For that monster? You’re delusional. He’s a ticking time bomb, a liability to the team. And deep down, everyone knows it."

y/n’s patience snapped. In one swift motion, she slapped Jen hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room. Jen stumbled and fell to the ground, shock and anger flashing across her features.

She stalks forward like a predator cornering its prey, "I’m just done with your lies and your insults. Bucky deserves better than you." Jen instinctively crawled backwards towards the centre of the room. Seeing that she got the attention of the few new recruits she regained her composure, smirked again, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "You’re pathetic, y/n," she taunted. "Defending a lost cause." her voice was loud enough for y/n to hear but quiet enough that the others might not be able to decipher her words.

At that moment, Bucky and Sam burst into the room, followed closely behind by a new recruit who alerted them of the incident. Bucky’s eyes widened as he took in the scene—Jen on the ground, y/n standing over her, shaking with rage. "What’s going on here?" His demand was completely ignored as y/n’s mind was hyper-focused on the wrath bubbling within her. 

"Get up," y/n demanded, her voice shaking with wrath. Bucky’s momentarily froze as he watched the confrontation escalate before him. y/n, usually so composed, was now a whirlwind of rage, her eyes blazing as she stood over a trembling Jen. Bucky had always known her to be fierce in battle, but this was different—this was raw, unbridled anger. "I'm going to make you regret every word you said. So get on your fucking feet before I rip it off you.." 

Jen, still on the ground, looked up at y/n with wide, teary eyes, playing the role of the victim to perfection. "Please, I didn't– I don’t know what you're…," she whimpered, casting a fearful glance at Bucky and Sam, who had just arrived on the scene.

Bucky's mind raced. Why was she doing this? He stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. "y/n, hey!" he shouted, his voice a mix of confusion and anger. "What are you doing?"

Completely ignoring him, "Get up," y/n snarled, her eyes blazing with intensity. "Get up and fight me. I’ll show you who the real monster is." Jen looked up, her hand on her cheek, disbelief mingling with her fury. "You’re crazy," she spat, scrambling to her feet.

Her response was only a furious shout. "I said, get up!"

"y/n, are you crazy?!" Bucky yelled, moving quickly to intervene. He grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and unforgiving.

She turned her fierce gaze towards Bucky; her expression momentarily faltering at the hurt in his eyes. "Bucky, you don’t understand, she--" she began, but the words caught in her throat as she saw Jen's smirk flicker for just a second.

"There's nothing to understand," Bucky snapped. "You’re acting insane."

y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with hurt and frustration. "Bucky, you have to listen—"

But he cut her off, his expression hard. "I don’t care! You hurt her, y/n. You think I don’t see that bruise on her cheek?!" Bucky shouted, his face contorted with anger. His eyes, usually filled with a gentle warmth when he looked at y/n, were now blazing with fury. "This isn’t like you, y/n. I’ve noticed that you’ve never liked Jen, and I don’t know why. But this? This is just immature and reckless." His metal grip on y/n's wrist was tighter than he intended. She winced, her eyes watering not just from the pain but from the sting of his words. 

y/n had never seen Bucky like this. His anger was palpable, radiating off him in waves. It was like being hit with a physical force, and she felt her heart breaking under the weight of it. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her anger flaring even hotter. "Bucky, you don’t understand," she tried to explain, but the words caught in her throat.

Bucky’s expression remained hard, the force on her wrist tightening painfully. "You need to grow up, y/n," he seethed, his disappointment evident in his tone. "You're always causing drama lately, and it needs to stop. Jen’s been there for me in ways you haven’t, and I won’t tolerate you attacking her like this."

The words cut through her like a knife. Her heart shattered at his harshness, at the realization that Bucky thought so little of her. She yanked her wrist free, feeling the sting of his grip lingering. "Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Believe what you want."

Without another word, she turned and stormed out, leaving Bucky standing there, torn between confusion and guilt.

A gnawing sense of remorse tugging at him, but he couldn't shake the confusion and anger clouding his mind. "Jen, are you okay?" he asked, helping her to her feet.

Jen, tucking herself to his side, managed to summon a few tears, looking up at Bucky with a feigned innocence. "I don’t know why she hates me so much," she murmured, playing her part perfectly.

Bucky fingers softly traces on her wounded cheek before his gaze switched to y/n’s retreating form, a knot tightening in his chest. He wasn’t sure why those mean words had spouted out of his lips. Was it because he saw Jen injured on the ground and his protective instincts kicked in? Or was it because Jen had been whispering doubts in his ear about y/n’s loyalty, making him question his longtime friend? 

The truth was, Bucky had always relied on y/n’s unwavering support. She had been his rock through the toughest times, and seeing her so furious, so hurt, shook him to his core. Yet, in the heat of the moment, he had lashed out, unable to reconcile the image of Jen crying with the fierce anger that radiated from y/n.

As Bucky comforted Jen, his mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake the image of hurt on her face, nor could he ignore the nagging feeling that he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

On the side, Sam was only able to watch the scene play out silently, a frown creasing his brow. He had a feeling there was more to this story, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

As weeks passed, the rift between Bucky and y/n deepened, fueled by Jen's cunning manipulation. In a private conversation, Jen planted seeds of doubt in Bucky's mind, suggesting that y/n harboured hidden resentments and intentions.

"I hate to say it, Bucky, but maybe she's not who we thought she was," Jen insinuated, her voice dripping with false concern. "Maybe she's been hiding her true feelings all along, waiting for the right moment to strike." 

Bucky, already vulnerable and confused after the incident in the training room, absorbed Jen's words like poison, allowing them to fester and take root in his mind. He began to view y/n through a new lens, one tainted by suspicion and distrust. This single conversation, filled with subtle manipulations and insidious suggestions, was all it took to fracture the bond between Bucky and y/n, leaving Bucky cold and distant towards the one person who had always stood by his side.

Most days he would avoid eye contact with her during team meetings, barely acknowledging her presence when they were forced to interact. In training sessions, his instructions to her were curt and clipped, lacking the warmth and camaraderie they once shared. y/n felt each of these interactions like a stab to the heart.

She couldn't understand how quickly Bucky had turned against her, how easily he had accepted Jen's version of events without even giving her a chance to explain. The hurt festered inside her, eating away at her sense of self-worth.

Then one night, as y/n sat alone on the rooftop, staring out into the darkness, Sam found her there. He knew this was where she retreated when she needed space to think, to process her emotions. He approached her cautiously, sitting down beside her without a word.

"Why aren't you at dinner, y/n?" Sam finally asked, breaking the silence. He could see the emptiness in her eyes, the weight of her sorrow pressing down on her.

She shook her head, her voice hollow. "Lost my appetite," she muttered, her gaze still fixed on the horizon.

Sam gently prodded, knowing there was more to her withdrawal than just a lack of hunger. "Is it because of what happened the other day at the training room?" he asked softly.

Instantly, her demeanor shifted. Anger flared in her eyes, directed not just at Jen and Bucky, but at the entire situation. "I don't want to talk about it, Sam," she snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. But Sam wasn't one to give up easily, especially when he knew how much y/n was hurting. "Come on, y/n," he urged, his voice gentle but insistent. "You can't keep bottling this up. Talk to me."

Her expression softened slightly at Sam's persistence, but the pain still lingered in her eyes. "Seriously, Sam, please just drop it," she pleaded, her voice wavering with emotion.

Sam could see the cracks forming in her facade, the vulnerability seeping through the tough exterior she usually projected. Without a word, he pulled her into a comforting embrace, letting her bury her face against his shoulder.

As she clung to him, her facade finally crumbled. Her lips trembled, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "He hates me, doesn't he?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbreak. "Bucky hates me."

Sam held her tighter, offering silent comfort as she grappled with the weight of her sorrow. He knew there were no easy answers, no quick fixes to mend the shattered pieces of y/n's heart. But in that moment, all he could do was be there for her, a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions.

The dim glow of the kitchen's overhead light provided a faint sense of solace in the otherwise silent darkness of the compound. Bucky sat at the wooden table, his tired eyes staring blankly at the cup of untouched tea before him. It was a nightly ritual lately, this dance with sleeplessness and the haunting memories that lurked in the shadows of his mind yet again.

Footsteps broke the stillness, and Bucky's gaze shifted to the entrance of the kitchen. y/n stood hesitantly in the doorway, her presence casting a tentative aura over the room. There was a palpable tension between them, an unspoken weight that hung heavy in the air.

She cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence. "Mind if I join you?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She was expecting Bucky to ignore her completely but he didn’t; Bucky simply shrugged nonchalantly, his guard seemed to flatter. "Suit yourself," he muttered.

As she quietly took a seat opposite him, a heavy silence settled between them. Bucky's thoughts churned with a whirlwind of emotions, each one vying for dominance over the others. His guard seemed to falter in the presence of her tentative yet comforting aura. The weight of his own vulnerability loomed large in his mind, drowning out the anger he had harboured towards her.

As the silence stretched between them, she felt a surge of compassion wash over her. She knew why he was awake at this time. She knew that the tea he brewed was to help him sleep. She was the one who planted that habit to him after all.

And despite everything that had transpired between them, she couldn't bear to see Bucky suffer alone. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she decided to reach out to him, to offer what little comfort she could.

Without a word, y/n rose from her seat and moved to stand behind Bucky's chair. He stiffened at her touch, his muscles tense with apprehension. But as her gentle hands began to massage the tension from his neck, a wave of unexpected relief washed over him.

Her touch was soft and comforting, a stark contrast to the coldness he had grown accustomed to due to Jen’s unwillingness to acknowledge this side of him. She ran her fingers through his hair, coaxing him to relax, to let go of the burdens that weighed heavily on his shoulders. For a brief moment, Bucky allowed himself to forget the walls he had built around his heart. In her presence, her voice, and her touch; he felt a glimmer of hope, a flicker of warmth that he had long since forgotten.

But then, like a sudden gust of wind extinguishing a fragile flame, the weight of Jen's words came crashing back down upon him. Anger flared within him, hot and fierce, directed not only at y/n but at himself for allowing his heart to yearn for her.

He pushed himself away from the table, his movements sharp and abrupt. "I don't need your pity, y/n," he spat, his words laced with bitterness. "Just leave me alone."

With that, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving y/n alone in the suffocating silence.The disbelief that clouded her thoughts gave way to a searing agony that twisted in her chest. How could he say such things? How could he push her away so callously, after everything they had shared?

y/n buried her face in her hands, her body trembling with the force of her sobs. The weight of her shattered dreams pressed down on her, crushing her spirit beneath its merciless grip. She had never felt so alone, so utterly abandoned by the one person she had trusted above all others.

The pain of losing Bucky, of losing the love that had sustained her through the darkest of times, threatened to consume her whole. Each breath felt like a struggle, each heartbeat a painful reminder of the emptiness that now filled her soul.

In that moment of crushing despair, she couldn't help but believe that Bucky truly hated her. The thought tore through her like a knife, leaving behind a raw, gaping wound that no amount of time or distance could ever hope to heal.

As she sat alone in the suffocating silence of the kitchen, y/n felt the full weight of her heartbreak descend upon her like a tidal wave. She was lost in a sea of pain and sorrow, drowning in the agony of losing someone she had loved so deeply, so completely. And in that moment, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever find her way back to the surface again.

Unbeknownst to her, Bucky lingered just out of sight, his heart heavy with guilt. He wanted to go back, to take back his harsh words and hold her close, to chase away the tears that stained her cheeks. But the poison in his mind was too strong, clouding his judgement and trapping him in a cycle of self-destructive despair. And so, with a heavy heart, he turned and walked away, leaving y/n to cry alone in the darkness.

The mission had already been tense enough, but as y/n found herself face to face with Jen in a location she wasn't supposed to be, the atmosphere crackled with an added layer of hostility. It was as if fate had conspired to place them in this confrontation, and her jaw clenched involuntarily as she braced herself for what was to come.

Jen's presence in that spot was no coincidence, and she knew it. Her suspicions were confirmed as Jen turned to face her, a smirk playing on her lips, a gleam of malice in her eyes. y/n's grip tightened on her weapon, her pulse quickening as she prepared for the verbal assault she knew was coming.

"How does it feel, knowing that Bucky hates you now?" Jen's words sliced through the air like a knife, each syllable carrying the weight of y/n’s deepest fears. It was a direct hit, striking at the core of her insecurities, and for a moment, she felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath her feet.

But she refused to let Jen see her falter. With a steely resolve, she squared her shoulders and met Jen's gaze head-on, her expression a mask of defiance. She may have been shaken by Jen's words, but she refused to let them break her.

Ignoring the taunts, she focused on the mission at hand, determined to prove her worth despite Jen's attempts to undermine her. But with each passing moment, the weight of Jen's words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over y/n’s every move.

It was a battle on two fronts – against the enemy they faced together, and against the doubts that threatened to consume her from within. But she refused to back down, drawing strength from the knowledge that she fought not just for herself, but for the team she believed in with all her heart.

But Jen's relentless barrage of insults made it difficult to concentrate, her words like daggers slicing through y/n’s defenses.

"Aww come on y/n, bet you’re reeling in the loss right now, aren’t you." Jen continued, her voice ice cold. "The Asset’s little lapdog, clinging to him like a lost puppy."

y/n’s temper flared at the insult, her grip tightening on her weapon as she fought to keep her emotions in check. But Jen's mocking laughter only fueled the fire burning within her, pushing her to the brink of her patience. "Shut your mouth, Jen," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Or I swear to God, I'll make sure that the team finds your body disassembled in one of these rooms."

Jen simply rolled her eyes, unfazed by her threat. "You love him that much, huh?" y/n had no intention to deny that fact; she does love him, "More than you ever could." her voice was firm and true. Jen’s smirk fell as she scoffed. "Ain't that cute, the Winter Soldier and his little psycho sweetheart."

Before y/n could respond, a voice cut through the tension like a knife, freezing her in place. It was Bucky, his expression dark and stormy as he stepped into view. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he took in the scene before him.

y/n’s heart sank as she realized that Bucky might have heard everything. She turned around to meet his eyes and his face confirmed her suspicion; he heard it.  Bucky had heard everything – every taunt, every insult, every word exchanged between her and Jen; even the confession of her true feelings. She met his gaze; searching for some sign of understanding of his emotions and the little that she saw was: disappointment, betrayal and guilt, mirrored back at her in the depths of his stormy blue eyes. 

In that moment, all she wanted to do was pull him into her arms, to pull him away from all the painful memories and hurtful words; so far away that he would forget he had ever been taunted, betrayed, or made to feel less than he was.

Before she could utter a word, let alone take a step towards him, Jen's voice broke through, but it lacked the usual confidence. "Bucky, it's not what you think," she stammered, her eyes darting nervously between Bucky and y/n. "I-I was just..."

y/n’s clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin as Jen stumbled over her words, unable to come up with a coherent explanation. She could see the confusion and hurt in Bucky's eyes, a reflection of the turmoil raging within her own heart.

"I-I mean," Jen continued, her voice faltering. "I was...um...just trying to...uh..."

But her feeble attempts to justify her actions only served to further incense Bucky. His brow furrowed in anger, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to make sense of the situation.

"Enough," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't want to hear any more lies."

y/n’s heart ached as she watched Bucky's expression darken with anger and disappointment. She wanted to explain, to tell him the truth about Jen's betrayal and her own misguided attempt to defend him. But the words caught in her throat, choked by the weight of her guilt and regret.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky turned away, his shoulders slumped with defeat. "Let's just finish the mission," he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "We'll deal with this later."

As he was about to walk away, y/n noticed a red dot on his chest, the unmistakable mark of a sniper's laser sight. Without thinking twice, she leaped towards him, her body acting as a human shield. Time seemed to slow down as she collided with Bucky, pushing him out of the way.

"y/n, no!" Bucky shouted, his voice filled with panic as her body slumped against his chest.

In the chaos, Jen was nowhere to be seen. She had slipped away, taking shelter and ultimately fleeing the area as she heard multiple footsteps approaching.

Bucky tried to pull up his gun, but it was too late. An array of bullets rained down on them. He felt the searing pain of a few shots piercing his own flesh, but it was nothing compared to the sight of y/n’s body being riddled with bullets. She was hit in the shoulder, wrist, thighs, and other places Bucky couldn't even register.

Rage surged through Bucky like an inferno, obliterating any semblance of restraint. He moved with a deadly precision, his eyes blazing with fury as he unleashed a storm of bullets on the enemy. His movements were swift and unforgiving, every shot finding its mark with brutal accuracy. The enemy fell one by one, their bodies collapsing in lifeless heaps. The air was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire and the acrid smell of gunpowder, but Bucky's focus was unyielding.

Within moments, the room was cleared, the enemies wiped out in a flurry of rage-fueled vengeance.

The adrenaline ebbed away, leaving Bucky standing amidst the carnage, his chest heaving. He turned, and his eyes fell on y/n's crumpled form. The sight of her lying in a pool of her own blood shattered his rage, replacing it with a crushing wave of worry and panic.

"Hang in there. Please," Bucky hastily spoke, his voice trembling. He activated his com line, desperation seeping into his tone. "Guys, we need help. y/n... she's... she's been shot. We need to get out of here right now!" Panic coursed through him as he turned his attention back to y/n, frantically trying to stop the bleeding on her stomach. "y/n, doll…please" he pleaded, watching her hazy gaze. "Don't you dare give up on me now. Come on."

"babydoll, stay with me!" Bucky cried, his voice breaking as he cradled her in his arms. Blood soaked through her clothes, staining his hands. "Please, hang on, you can’t leave yet. I haven't told you... I haven't—" 

Her eyes fluttered open, her breathing shallow and ragged. "It's okay, Bucky," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos. "It's okay. Don't cry." Her shaking hands struggled to move, and with great effort, she managed to cup Bucky's cheek. The gesture was weak but filled with tenderness. "It's okay," she repeated, her fingers trembling against his skin.

"Don't talk like that," Bucky choked out, his own tears mingling with the blood on his face. "You can't.. I haven't told you...please doll..." His voice wavered with the weight of unspoken words and unconfessed feelings. He hadn't told her how much he truly cared for her, how every moment spent away from her felt like an eternity. He hadn't begged for forgiveness for his coldness, his mistakes, and for letting Jen's poison taint his actions. The guilt gnawed at him, each heartbeat a reminder of the words he hadn't said, the emotions he hadn't expressed. 

He pressed her hand harder against his cheek, feeling the warmth of her touch anchoring him in the moment.Her hand weakly brushing against his cheek. "I know, sweetheart," she murmured. "I know."

Bucky's heart shattered as he clung to her, feeling her life slipping away. "No, no, no," he muttered desperately. "You can't leave me. Please, y/n. Please."

She smiled faintly, her eyes closing. "I'm here, Bucky. I'm right here."

With a final, shuddering breath, y/n’s consciousness slipped away. Bucky felt a surge of panic, but he knew he had to move. He lifted her limp body, cradling her against his chest as he ran towards the quinjet. Each step was agony, his own injuries slowing him down, but he didn't care. All that mattered was getting y/n to safety.

"Hang on, y/n," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Hang on. I won't let you go."

In the sterile environment of the medical bay, y/n lay unconscious, her body hooked up to various machines that monitored her vital signs. Bucky sat by her bedside, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying. Every beep of the monitor seemed to echo through the silence, a haunting reminder of her fragile state. He held her hand, his thumb gently caressing her bandaged wrist.

Memories of their time together flooded Bucky's mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of the connection they shared. He remembered the laughter they had shared, the late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. He remembered the gentle touch of her hand, the warmth of her smile that never failed to chase away the darkness.

But amidst the memories, there was also pain – the pain of their last conversation, the words left unsaid and the choices left unmade. Bucky's throat tightened as he recalled the day he had walked away from Jen, the air thick with tension and unspoken truths.

His voice was cold and final. "You almost got her killed, Jen," he had said, his eyes blazing with anger. "Stay away from us. Stay away from me."

Jen's eyes had flashed with anger, her words cutting like knives as she lashed out in frustration. "And what, you think you'll find someone better than me?" she had spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Good luck with that, Bucky. You'll never find anyone who would put up with your baggage."

But Bucky had remained resolute, his decision fueled by a sense of longing and regret that threatened to consume him whole. "Maybe not," he had admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'd rather be alone than with someone who doesn't truly care about me."

Now, as Bucky sat by y/n’s bedside, the weight of his decision bore down on him like a crushing weight. Tears welled in his eyes as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers trembling with emotion.

"I'm so sorry, babydoll," he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I never meant for any of this to happen. So, please, wake up. I need you."

But y/n remained unconscious, her breathing shallow and weak as she lay before him. And as Bucky watched over her, his heart heavy with worry and regret, he vowed to do whatever it took to bring her back to him, to keep her safe from harm for all eternity.

For in that moment, Bucky realized that he couldn't bear to lose her – not now, not ever. She was his rock, his anchor in a world of uncertainty and pain. And as he held her hand tightly in his own, he prayed with all his heart that she would find her way back to him, to the love and light that had always guided them through the darkness.

The soft hum of machines filled the air as y/n stirred awake, her senses slowly coming back to her. She blinked, disoriented at first, until her gaze fell upon Bucky, who was sleeping soundly in the chair beside her bed. His hands were clasped tightly around hers, his face peaceful in slumber, but she couldn't help but notice the tear stains on his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, the worry lines etched into his forehead.

"How long has it been since?" she wondered to herself, her heart aching at the sight of Bucky's exhausted form. She carefully sat up, trying not to disturb him as she lovingly examined his sleeping face. She couldn't help but smile as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through her fingertips.

Bucky groaned as his sleep was interrupted, muttering something about Sam needs to leave him be; before he abruptly sat up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Hi there," y/n greeted softly, her eyes sparkling with affection as she watched Bucky's reaction.

For a moment, Bucky seemed unable to comprehend that she was finally awake. His eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape. But then the realization hit him, and he threw himself at her, wrapping her in a tight embrace as if she were the most precious thing in the world .Despite the pain that shot through her body, she managed to let out a soft chuckle, returning his embrace with equal fervor. The warmth of his embrace chased away the lingering chill of unconsciousness, and for a moment, everything felt right.

"y/n..." Bucky breathed into her neck, his voice trembling with emotion. She hummed in response, her heart swelling for him. "Hmmm?"

Not wanting to let go of her, Bucky called her name once again, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "y/n-..." She paused, her lips curving into a tender smile as she whispered in his ear, "Yes, Bucky?"

Bucky tightened his grip, his breath hitching in his throat as he buried his face in her shoulder. y/n gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "I'm here, sweetheart." The scent of her hair, the feel of her warmth against him—it all felt overwhelming. Emotions churned inside him like a tempest. Relief, guilt, love, and fear battled for dominance, leaving him raw and exposed.

She gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "Bucky, I'm not going anywhere.

Bucky's mind raced, images of the past few weeks flashing before his eyes. He remembered the coldness with which he'd treated her, the cruel words that had slipped from his lips, fueled by Jen's poison. He thought of the sleepless nights, the nightmares that had gripped him, and the aching void he'd felt every time he saw y/n’s hurt expression.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "For everything. For not believing you. For pushing you away."

Reluctantly, she pulled away, but not before wiping the tears from Bucky's cheeks and fighting the urge to place a tender kiss on his forehead. As she looked into his eyes, she could see the depth of his love and the pain he had endured for her sake. And in that moment, she knew that she had found her home in his arms. Bucky took her hands in his own, his eyes closed as he pressed a kiss to her wounded wrists. "This will never happen again. Ever," he vowed, his voice filled with determination.

Moved by his words, y/n felt her heart flutter with emotion. She realized in that moment that she could never stay angry at him, no matter what had transpired between them. She understood now that they were both at fault, both victims of circumstance and misunderstanding.

With a surge of courage, she reached out and pulled Bucky into a kiss. Her lips met his in a slow, passionate embrace, pouring all of her love and forgiveness into the tender gesture. It was a moment of connection, of healing, of reaffirming their bond despite the trials they had faced.

The taste of Bucky's lips was like a soothing salve to her soul; it was intoxicating. It felt as if the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them entwined in each other's arms. When they finally broke apart, Bucky whispered those three words that y/n had longed to hear, "I love you."

Her heart soared with joy, and she couldn't help but tease him, "Took you long enough." her teasing words met with a cheeky grin from Bucky.  "I love you too, Bucky" she blinked slowly. As he whispered softly under his breath, "Come here," he pulled her back into the kiss, their lips meeting in a tender embrace that spoke volumes of their unspoken love. And in that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of their world, they found solace in each other's arms, knowing that together, they could weather any storm.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I just needed to let this out lmao. It's been stuck in my head for several weeks. Thank you for spending your time reading this crap... honestly. Love you so much 🤍

[sturnsdarling]

'you look like this song'

{insp by @sturnioz au} smartand'mean'!reader is getting ready in fratboy!Matts room whilst listening to Nirvana, and he can't keep his eyes, or hands, off of her.

vibe check: fluffy smut with no real plot, everyone's (my) fave

2k words

A/N: This is for the anon who's having a shitty month, i hope you love it and i hope it makes your september a little better. I had this idea after Matt was listening to nirvana on stream, i need to sit in his room and listen to music whilst i get ready on his floor and i need it NOW.

love and cigs, merc

You were sat on Matts bedroom floor, wearing nothing but a black lingerie set and a pair of fishnet tights with the crotch ripped out, a gift from you to Matt from a previous bathroom hookup. Your legs were crossed underneath you as you did your makeup in the body length mirror that you had found on the street, and claimed as your makeup mirror in Matts room.

You tugged at your eye slightly, smoking out the black liner you had just applied, effortlessly achieving that 'slightly fucked out but still hot' look that had become your signature style. Your playlist was on a loop, always hooking your phone up to Matts speakers regardless of whether or not he was there or not. 'Smells like teen spirit' by Nirvana began to play, the steady drums making the floor vibrate slightly.

The door clicked open, and Matt walked in the room, looking at his phone and bopping his backward cap clad head along to the music before turning his attention to you. You looked to him in the reflection from your spot on the floor and, of course, he was already looking at you. You shot him a small smile before returning to your makeup, moving onto applying a dark burgundy lip with a slightly open mouth.

Matt came to stand behind you, caressing your slightly tangled hair with a large hand. His hand came down to the side of your face and slid down your jaw, watching you intently in the mirror. Your focus didn't waver, still focused on your makeup as you patted and rubbed your plump, dark lips together.

Matt felt as if his mouth had began to water at the sight of you, his hand coming down to your jaw as the song continued to play in the background. He tugged at the bottom of your jaw, moving your head so you were looking up at him from your perched position on the floor, him towering behind you.

"hey, tough girl" Matt smirked, his hand snaking its way up and down your neck with soft fingers.

You smiled in return, batting your lashes at him like a cat, "hi, Matthew"

"you look sexy as fuck right now, you know that?" He said, his words rolling off his tongue like honey.

You chuckled slightly, rolling your eyes and attempting to return to doing your makeup, Matt tutted at your slight attitude with faux anger, pulling your head back up to face him as he leaned down on bent knees, capturing your neck in his hand and kissing you roughly.

The force he kissed you with sent you backwards, Matt catching you in his lap as he met you on the floor. Your head was cradled in his legs, your view of him upside down. Kurt Cobain was shredding on the guitar, the sound giving your face a whole new beauty that Matt was lost in.

"you look like this song" Matt muttered, in awe of how completely beautiful you were.

You couldn't help but laugh, lifting yourself up and turning round to face him, your legs tucked under you like a baby deer, "what?" you said with a smile.

Matt brought a hand to your jaw, swiping his thumb along your smudged lipstick, knowing it was probably stained on his mouth too,

"y'know how this song makes you feel when you listen to it? like you're vibrating, you can feel every cell in your body and your heart thumpin' in your chest so hard it could break a rib" Matt said, quoting you the first time you played this song in his presence.

"yeah?" You smirked with furrowed brows, letting Matt poke and prod at your puffy bottom lip.

"thats how you make me feel, when I look at you" Matt finally brought his eyes to yours.

Matts words made you feel warm all over, you couldn't even muster up a reply, the only thing in your mind being how not only was that easily the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you, but how all you wanted to do in that moment was pin matt to the floor and ride in him into oblivion for remembering your exact words about one of your favourite songs of all time.

His eyes were pouring into yours, your breathing got slightly heavier and your mouth parted. The song was coming to end, steady drums and repeated 'hellos' being the only sound in the room as you attempted to form a sentence in reply to Matt.

Nothing you could think to say was coherent, or appropriate for the time frame in which you'd known each other so, you did the one thing you knew Matt would understand.

You threw yourself into him, capturing your lips in his with feverish passion, pressing your tongue against his almost immediately. Matt welcomed your attack, kissing you back with matched desperation. You crawled onto his lap, straddling him and raking your hands through the tangled curls at the nape of his neck, pulling his hat off to give you better access to his soft brown hair.

Matts hands were on your waist, pulling you down into him as he lowered you both onto the floor, his back pressing against the hard wood. His hands snuck up your nearly bare back, the feeling of his skin against yours sending you into a frenzy. Every press of his finger tips felt like hot wax as you quietly moaned into his mouth, grinding your hips against his, trying to chase any friction you could.

Matt tensed at your movements, hips rutting up into yours involuntarily as you pushed your barely clothed pussy down on his growing bulge.

"need it, now" you whimpered into the kiss, your words demanding but your tone desperate.

Matt chuckled, "right now, angel? thought you were gettin' ready?" he muttered into your mouth, chasing your lips.

"right now" you replied, speaking in two word sentences, unable to shake the fever that had overcome you.

Matt smirked and slid his hands down your back and over your fishnet covered ass, pulling apart your cheeks slightly, making you arch above him like a cat. Your hands left his hair and dipped in between the two of you, you fiddled with the button of his jeans, snaking your cold hand into his jeans.

Matt let out a short hiss, and you captured his mouth in yours once more, pumping him as best you could under the restriction of his jeans. Matt moaned into your mouth, and brought his hand down to your ass, smacking it in encouragement. You used your other hand to fumble with the top of his jeans, pushing them down with needy whines and whimpers into the messy kiss.

Once you had managed to free Matt of his jeans, him doing nothing to help, enjoying watching you be so desperate for his cock, you sat up, still pumping him in your hand as you did. Matt watched in awe, with your lipstick smudged over your face and your eyes fluttering with needy ache, you'd never looked more beautiful.

Matt came up slightly to rest on his elbows, eyes still trained on yours. You brought your free hand to his mouth and swiped your middle and index over his stained lips, Matt knew what you wanted, and took your hand in his, opening it into a small bowl in front of his mouth. He held eye contact with you, and collected his saliva on his tongue, spitting it into your palm. You smiled, taking your now wet hand and replacing the hand on his cock with it.

The feeling of your sticky hand against his cock made his head roll back on its hinge, eyes fluttering as a low groan left his mouth. You shifted your hand up and down his length, rubbing his spit all over his throbbing shaft and over his leaking pink head. Shifting slightly, you lifted yourself up, pulling your underwear to the side and lining Matts tip up with your aching hole.

You lowered down onto him, the burning stretch of his cock filling you up as you sunk down inciting a breathless moan from you, nudging your puffy clit against the scattering of hair at the base of his cock as you let him nestle into you completely.

Matts mouth was opened wide, his head snapping back up to watch as you sucked him into your tight walls completely, brows burrowed at the sensation of you clenching around him.

You began to move, resting your hands against his chest as leverage as you moved to place the bottoms of your feet against the floor, squatting on top of him.

The new angle made your pussy grip Matts cock in a way he'd never experienced before,

"oh fuck" Matt said through gritted teeth as you began to bounce on him.

You were lost in it, his earlier words playing on repeat in your mind as you moved up and down his veiny cock, relishing in the sting of him stretching out your unprepared pussy. Despite the lack of foreplay, you were soaked, and you could feel yourself leaking sticky juices against the base of his cock every time he bottomed out side of you.

Whimpering, desperate moans left your throat as you fucked him, taking him as deep as you could, milking him with every bounce. Matt couldn't keep his eyes off where the two of you met, watching as you rose up and down on his length, his whole body tingling at the feeling of your tight pussy coupled with the slight sting of your nails digging into your chest.

"m'gonna cum if you keep riding me like this, angel" Matt said, breathlessly as he reluctantly tore his eyes from your skin slapping against his and met your eye line.

"s'what I want, cum inside me, please" you mumbled, begging as you relentlessly milked his cock.

"you - fuck - you know the rules, angel, you -" Matt cut himself off with a moan, "you cum first" his eyes flit back to the sight of your perfect pussy taking him, and he brought his thumb up to your mouth, pushing it inside and laying it against your warm tongue.

You pushed your tongue against his digit, wrapping your lips around his lowest knuckle with a small hum. Matt pulled his thumb from your mouth with a pop, taking his free hand and using it to push you up slightly, giving him better access to your clit and the perfect opportunity to wrap his hand round your throat.

Matt laid back completely onto the floor, with one hand on your throat, and the other working your clit, he watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to control your contorting face as he worked a relentless pace on your sensitive nub. You picked up your speed, ignoring the ache in your thighs as you desperately worked to get Matt to cum.

"tell m-" you stuttered, "tell me again"

Matt smirked, the events of the last few minutes adding up in his mind, you liked it when he told you how he felt about you, without actually telling you.

"you look like a Nirvana song, angel, so pretty n' so messy, all for me" He cooed, trying his best to make his words clear despite his fucked out, wavering tone.

"mphm" your brows knit together, you shifted your position, straddling him once more to grind your hips back and forth against his.

The drag of your pussy against his base, along with the wet, sticky pace Matt was setting on your clit and his perfect words made you see stars, and you came all over his cock, vision going blurry as you reached your high.

You moaned out his name, unable to stop the noises that left your mouth as you shook above him, legs tensing around his hips and nails digging little crescent moons into his chest.

"fuck, pretty girl, you look s'good when you cum all over my cock" Matt said, bringing a hand to hold your hip, grinding you down onto him faster as you started to get lightheaded.

"y'want me to fill you up, angel? soak your perfect pussy in my cum whilst your favourite songs play in the background?" Matt mumbled, slowing his pace on your clit and moving his other hand to your hip.

"please" you whimpered

Matt didn't need any more permission, he lifted you up slightly, the movement making you flop forward onto him, catching yourself with a hand round his jaw. Without warning, he began to pound into you, using his grip on your hips as leverage to mercilessly fuck your weeping pussy.

You let out a broken moan, trying to capture his lips in yours but failing, trailing wet, sloppy pecks on his mouth as he thrust into you at a feverish pace, grunting and groaning at the feeling of you clenching around him.

"so fuckin' needy for me, tough girl, all because I told you somthin' nice" Matt said though gritted teeth, "you feel as good as you look, y'know that?"

You couldn't even begin to muster a reply, only moans spilling from your mouth as Matts relentless pace into your pussy made you completely cock dumb. With a few hard, long thrusts, Matt buried himself inside you completely, dick twitching in your walls as he coated them with his cum, moaning your name as he went limp beneath you.

You breathed into each others mouths, foreheads rested against each others as your body weight relaxed down onto him.

"you gonna keep getting ready, angel?" Matt mumbled, pulling out of you.

"mhm" you nodded breathlessly, "just need a minute"

Matt chuckled, wrapping his tattooed arms around you as you caught your breath on top of him. "okay tough girl" He said, just before pressing a long kiss into the side of your head.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour

[cheriladycl01]

We make a mess - Max Verstappen x Reader Smut

Plot: You’ve been reading for too long and Max is getting needy …

Warnings: smut, messy sex, p in v, fingering, blowjob, ruined sofa etc 18+ mdni

You were just reading on the sofa like you normally did when Max streamed in your living room. You’d asked him so many times if he could move his set up into an office space but he refused saying the living was large enough for it all, which it was.

So whenever he streamed you found yourself tucked up on the sofa reading a book from your expansive library in the house.

The book you were currently reading was one of those that was so easy to get lost in and to sink into. To the point you hadn’t even noticed Max end his stream, start to cook food, make both of you a drink and come sit next to you on the sofa.

You were so engrossed in the current fantasy world and all the mysterious characters popping in and out that you hadn’t even heard Max attempt to ask you if you were ready for bed.

You hadn’t even realised he’d set the pasta he’d cooked for dinner in front of you and you’d eaten it whilst still reading.

“Baby?!” Max whines whilst shaking you making you pause on the line you’d just read.

“Huh?” You ask looking round noticing that there was no natural light coming in through the windows and it was just the city lights it Monaco at night.

“Holy shit Max what time is it?” You ask looking at him and placing the book mark in and putting the book down.

“Just gone half twelve” he says and you gasp. Max had started streaming at 7pm … has you really been reading for that long.

“You ignored me when I asked for you” he says with a grouchy and pouty look on his face.

“Baby! I’m so so sorry” you rush out and look awkwardly at him while trying not to laugh.

“You have given me no attention tonight! And I think you owe me” he suggest his voice getting an octave lower and a little more scratchy than usual.

“Max baby I’m sorry!” You cry out as he manhandles you flipping you over on the sofa so your on your elbows and knees, you chin resting on the fabricated arm of the sofa.

“No, you’ve done it now” he grins lightly smacking your ass before flipping up the skirt you were wearing. His hand runs along your thong strap, that going into the dip of your waist and down your lower back across before he lightly lifts it and snaps it against you.

“M-Max” you groan at your boyfriend trying to turn round and see him but he grabs the base of your neck forcing you more foreword into the sofa making you groan out as your knees start to give out.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks and you nod, your cheek squished.

He slowly rubs his hands down your hips before he gets to the bands of your underwear slowly pulling those down to leave you bare before him.

“So pretty, and so perfect. Look how wet you are already, and I’ve not even touched you. Gonna make a mess baby” he groans observing you. No matter how many times Max compliments you, or touches you, you won’t fail to become a blushing mess. You let out a small whine of appreciation as Max starts to use featherlight touches up your legs and to your inner thighs.

“Aw always so vocal” he sighs before reaching round supporting you by wrapping one arm around your waist to hold you up while his other arm comes round to your front to slowly rub circles on you clit, pulling all sorts of moans from you.

Max had a way of making you know that nobody else was ever going to be as good as he was.

Your hips start to stutter forward and a semi familiar feel starts to rise up the quicker Max rubs, pinches smacks and pulls at your clit and his dirty talking gets … dirtier.

“Max, gonna make a mess on the sofa” you cry out, feeling that one feeling that you know would end up with the sofa covered.

“No issue Schat, I can just buy a new one” he whispers in your ear biting against it before kissing along your jaw.

And shortly after, your squirting all over the sofa.

“Fuck Max, the sofa” you gasp and squirm as you feel the fabric dampen with the liquids shooting out.

You’d actually never squirted with anyone but Max and it was a feeling very different to that of your normal release, but one that was slowly becoming more and more familiar to you.

You’re left panting while Max starts to slowly, enter a finger into you, having you try and sink back onto it wanting him to create that incredible feeling again.

Two fingers are adding as he’s thrusting in and out, while he struggles to unbutton his own pants to release some pressure. He keeps up his pace the whole time, never stopping looking at you and the way your hips try to meet him with each thrust of his hand.

He gets his jeans undone, pulling them down along with his boxers pulling himself free. He was rock hard just from what he’d been doing to you, but he was now at the stage when you needed to feel some kind of release. Just a little bit of the pulsing pressure alleviated.

He starts to move his hand up and down his length with one hand while now scissoring his fingers inside of you.

He was sat leaning on the comfy back of the sofa, his head thrown back in pleasure cocked to the side to keep watching the way your body moves to meet Max’s fingers.

He didn’t anticipate just how worked up you’d made him while you were curled up on the sofa ignoring him, and he came unexpectedly quickly. As he felt that coil release he turned so he was jacking off towards you. White shooting out of his tip dripping onto your ass and down onto the sofa as you too reach your second climax of the evening.

“Max, I - I need a breather” you sigh, exhausted from your two heavy climaxes.

“Nope, whole way through baby. Wanna see that pretty face” he smiles as he flips you round so your on your back. Max knee you could go the whole way through, you’d done it before and he was confident you’d use the safe word if it really was too much for you.

And after a few moments of silence he takes that as his sign that you are in fact happy for him to continue.

It’s the first time you can fully feel the sofa and how sticky and wet it now is, covered in both your highs and it almost makes your cringe from the now cold feeling it gave.

Max’s hands come up your body, lifting your top off before taking off his pants fully and throwing his top next to yours on the floor.

“So beautiful my god” he says looking down at you. He spreads your thighs wider until you’ve wrapped your legs around him so the back of your heels dig into the little dips of his back.

He slides in with ease with how wet you are, bottoming out almost instantly. He sighs massaging your chest whilst slowly moving in and out, driving you insane.

“Max baby please faster” you beg looking up at him as he starts to run his thumb tantalising slow over your nipple.

“When you made me wait all night, just for a hello. I don’t think so baby” he says, not moving any quicker, lovingly thrusting in and out of you.

“MAXIE please” you gasp out as you feel something but you need more. You grip his shoulders pulling him closer to you, and kissing up his jaw and to his lips.

After yours words and actions he starts to speed up his movements, his grip going to your hips to angle them up, whilst a pillow is successfully slid underneath your back angling your hips up at the perfect angle where your mouth drops open like a fish.

“Eyes on me baby” he says looking over you, and you manage to keep your eyes on his as his hand comes down close to where the two of you are joined as one and he finds that spot that has you gasping in delight.

“That’s it, let go Schat” and with those words you were welcoming your third orgasm of the night. It’s fast and just as messy as your first, leaving you breathless as Max leans more of his body weight against you, his thrusts becoming sloppy before he joins you in his own ecstasy.

“Hopefully this will remind you to pay attention to me from now on?” He laughs, resting against you, exhausted from the physicality of what you’d just done.

“Mmmmmm” is all you can reply in between your ragged breathing.

You’d definitely not be so engrossed in your book next time. Or who knows maybe you would… and Mad Max would make a return … a little … teasing never hurt.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[wndaswife]

trying your hardest | wanda maximoff & gn!reader

After moving to America to join the Avengers, Wanda wants to finally make a friend to ease her loneliness. She hopes to become friends with you, and frankly, Wanda idolizes you, but her social skills are... subpar at best.

Word count: 5020

Tags: fluff, humour, some angst, emo wanda being a baby, a little thing, a small very tiny little thing, wanda has a very big crush on you :3 (she doesn't know it yet tho cuz she baby)

A/N: for plot purposes, imagine the avengers didn’t have a catfight after aou

gif credit to (i tried really hard and i CANNOT find who made this gif im sorry)

Wanda Maximoff never really had an education as a child. What education was available in Sokovia was expensive, and despite her father’s late working hours, the twins’ parents could only ever afford their apartment’s rent. The twins were homeschooled as well as their parents could teach them, but after the bombing, they were on their own. 

Government-funded schooling helped them for only so long. The schools they were sent to were decaying, and always under dwindling government watch from ongoing airstrikes. The ground shook with explosive tremors as they commuted to school on foot. Wanda and Pietro stayed at an orphanage with hundreds of other children whose parents had passed due to the war — and the Avengers. 

Even the government’s debt caught up with what was left of Sokovia. Billions of foreign debt not paid, volume of imports that had increased exponentially since Sokovia worked on rebuilding their country weren’t making enough revenue to pay exporters back. Hundreds of children were booted from government care and onto the streets. The twins attempted to learn on their own, to become informed educated people if they were to ever make a difference in the world, but in Sokovia, even resilience could only get one so far.

Then, Doctor Strucker came along, promising them the extermination of the Avengers, the Western terrorists who had made the already politically-unstable and war-torn country their battleground. 

In hopes to cure the world from their terrorist reign, both Wanda and Pietro agreed to Strucker’s experiments, but the education they were given intended for them to become weapons. They knew little of real geography and world history — only HYDRA’s propaganda meant to poison their minds with blind hatred and little else.

When it seemed like you couldn’t be any more different from Wanda as it was, you were also the team’s brain. Stark and Banner specialised in physics and mechanics, but you were the team’s hub for everything else. From computer science to philosophy, you knew everything. No one exceeded you in developing team strategy, setting the stages for mission locations, profiling adversaries, and a dozen of other things Wanda couldn’t have even fathomed when she first met the Avengers in person.

It took Wanda only several moments to realise you weren’t a frontline fighter from your muffled voice in the Avengers’ earpieces to their callouts of your name as frequent, and perhaps even moreso, than their teammates that fought alongside them on the field despite your physical absence. 

Y/N — that was your name. 

When she had fought the Avengers in Novi Grad, creeping behind the Western superpowers like a heavy looming shadow, Wanda had looked for you. Strategically, it was a rational move. You were the centre of their battle, the heart of their teamwork.

And yet, you were nowhere to be found.

It was only until she had crept up behind Clint Barton when your voice grew clearer than ever before. From the tiny earpiece, you were controlling the field. Perhaps you were just outside, or maybe you were in another country. No matter the distance, Wanda supposed your hold on the battle would be no less effective. 

It was the distraction of thinking about you, perhaps — Y/N, the invisible hand — or Barton’s sole intuition, Wanda did not know, nor did she have very much time to think it over, that had made it possible for him to counter her magic. 

Then there was pain — immeasurable pain that Wanda hadn’t felt since Strucker’s experiments. It shot through her forehead like a dozen bullets had permeated through her skull. Pietro grounded her, and soon after, the twins targeted Banner.

Despite the rumours about him, the insatiable angry force he was told to be, his mind was the easiest to corrupt. Mental instability and insecurity racked his mind, and he quickly shifted into the green beast the Maximoffs had heard so much about. 

Carrying his younger sister, Pietro took the two of them back to Ultron’s base. 

They had won that day.

You were all Wanda could think about even while she and Pietro were off missions. You weren’t the Avengers’ frontline defence like Steve Rogers, nor were you the brute strength of the team like Bruce Banner. You held your team in your hands rather than tugging them along by their leashes although you likely could if you wanted to.

Y/N. 

Who were you?

On the television after the fight on Novi Grad, Iron Man and Hulk’s brawl in Johannesburg was on the news. The city was in shambles. Pietro said something about the deaths of innocents and the success of his sister’s magic in having the Avengers turn against themselves. But Wanda could only think of what you had thought when Stark and Banner came back to their compound, beaten and sore from none other than their own fists. Wanda assumed the Avengers’ compound — wherever that was — was where you were too. 

Wanda wondered how you were dealing with the fight at Johannesburg. What were you saying about her and Pietro?

Later that day, Ultron approached the twins in their bedroom and turned on the television. Despite having been offered separate bedrooms, they insisted on sharing one. Sitting atop their respective beds on the opposite sides of the room, there was someone speaking on the television about Johannesburg across from the interviewer. Their expression was stern but their eyes were solemn. Eyebrows were furrowed together, masking concern and worry; if Wanda knew anything, it was how to read someone.

“Y/N,” the interviewer began, and Wanda’s eyes widened, her head lifting from being held up by her hands, elbows on her pillow as it laid flat atop her crossed legs. “As the Avengers’ strategist, as many put it, how are you planning on handling the devastation that came upon Johannesburg, and the inevitable contact that the Avengers will continue to have with innocent uninvolved civilians?”

The question was packed, and the news station quite clearly had their own sentiments about the Avengers; they were setting you up.

So that was how you looked. Wanda swallowed and felt her chest flutter.

With your upper lip stiff and your posture unbelievably straight, you answered without equivocation. “A common misinformed perspective of any conflict follows the belief that there is any one party entirely responsible for the consequences of violent confrontation, such as the one we witnessed in Johannesburg,” you were saying. With the way her wide eyes were pinned on the television screen, Wanda didn’t notice the way her brother eyed her obviously piqued interest.

“I don’t believe the Avengers are the world’s most honourable superheroes,” you continued. Ultron shifted and Wanda’s head tipped to the side, her interest in you ever growing. “I don’t think anyone is, no matter whose side you’ve taken since the conflict recently — and perhaps even after the invasion of New York’s in 2012.”

That was The Incident, Wanda recalled, when the Avengers terrorised New York. That’s what HYDRA had always told her and Pietro.

“Despite whose side you may be on, as differing as our collective opinions may be, one thing is undeniable — we are all trying to reach a goal of peace for the world, fighting for what we believe is just. There is nothing more powerful than that. Perhaps, it is idealism that serves to be the strength of humanity.”

Ultron laughed morosely. He ridiculed your words, but Wanda wasn’t listening. Whatever you were talking about wasn’t only about Johannesburg. What were you referencing? Who were your words meant for?

Suddenly, your head turned to the camera and Wanda met your eyes. Everything in her froze, her eyes undeviating from your face.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” you spoke. Pietro looked over at Wanda, shock written on every inch of his face, and Ultron’s eyes darted between the twins, almost accusationally as he undoubtedly suspected coercion. Wanda almost expected you to step through the television screen and into her bedroom. “I know what you want.”

The screen was shut off suddenly, the black mirror of the television reflecting Wanda’s astonished expression. She looked away, shutting her eyes as she felt the burning gaze of Ultron on her. But your words reverberated in Wanda’s mind until your every feature and movement of your lips was memorised. Like a promise, like an ode, your words were immortalised within her.

Pietro wasn’t there when you took Wanda in your arms and saved her from a falling Sokovia. He wasn’t there when you laid her down onto the Helicarrier, nor when you took her hand and told her she’d be taken care of. Wanda cried into your chest at the sight of her brother’s body.

What would he have said if he saw the way your arm refused to leave from around Wanda’s shoulders as the two of them trailed behind his body while he was carried into the compound?

Pietro liked you, and would’ve loved to meet you. He referenced your broadcasted interview several times during their fight in Sokovia. He was proud to work with the Avengers, and proud to finally work towards their goal to help people just like them. He wanted to meet you.

Your voice was different from what Wanda remembered from the broadcast, and not because her memory had failed her, but because you were just… different. You were real, and not a picture on a wall or an untouchable reality forever separated from her by a television screen. As she watched you talk and laugh with the other Avengers, you were real.

But if Wanda was honest, she was much too shy to even start a conversation with you. Perhaps it might’ve been easier to approach you if you were an admired character on one of her favourite television shows, but it was exactly what made her admire you so much that also made her feel so shy around you. 

Granted, there was much to adjust to now that she lived in America and was now a part of the Avengers, and she did believe herself to be a generally introverted person, but she was especially nervous around you.

Wanda had gotten enough confidence to speak with some team members. Natasha was welcoming and kind. Thor was easy not to feel nervous around, but his energy was far too much for Wanda to handle just yet. Bruce was much more comfortable to chat with, and Wanda found that he was able to be rather nice once he forgave her for her associations with Ultron. Steve was always very kind to Wanda and she felt very safe around him, with Steve always trying to make her feel like part of the team, but she found that they didn’t have very much in common.

And there was Vision, who seemed to have taken a liking to her since even before the final battle against Ultron. He was nice company, but she found her mind preoccupied thinking of you while in his company, wishing that it was you who gave her as much attention as Vision did.

However, she’d been wanting to start a conversation with you since the day she arrived at the compound. Initially, she needed time to herself, and along with Steve, you also made the effort to check in on her and give her your support.

Once she was finally able to gain some footing in adjusting to things while shouldering the weight of her losses, Wanda started becoming more active within the team by joining training sessions. During them, she found herself unable to stop looking at you, watching what you were doing, seeing how you interacted with everyone.

Even as the Avengers’ primary strategist that was almost never in the field, you still made efforts to train and stay connected and involved with the team — and Wanda quickly learned that training was a major part of team building.

You were everything Wanda wished she could be more like; you were the kind of person she had never thought existed in a world she believed was only full of cruelty and injustice until recently.

There was an upcoming party at the Avengers Tower in celebration of the assigned team’s return from a successful mission tracking down a recently-located HYDRA base still hiding out. It was almost any ordinary mission, but it was the first step towards steadily eradicating all of HYDRA’s bases, even after Strucker’s primary base was taken down in Sokovia. Though Steve did also tell Wanda that he felt that Tony also primarily wanted to find any reason to celebrate since it’d been some time.

Wanda hadn’t been to any of the parties yet, and she thought that she’d be able to use this one as a chance to start a conversation with you. 

Wasn’t that what people did at parties? Talk?

Truthfully, she didn’t quite know for sure — she’d only ever heard about them through the sitcoms she watched as a child. She knew only of dramatised American portrayals of teenage parties through television.

Whatever it was people actually did at parties, Wanda was certain she would be able to make some effort to talk to you. At least in a social setting, it wouldn’t be strange for her to start a conversation with you.

Wanda made herself look nice and presentable, but not too formal since she didn’t want to overdress or bring too much attention to herself. She wasn’t sure what might happen if her plan to talk with you didn’t end up working, and if she was somehow left with nothing to do, she wanted to be able to slip away without anyone noticing, as if she had never made any attempt to come at all.

While deliberating whether it was better to arrive on time or a bit later once the party had been going on for some time, Wanda realised that at some point too much time had passed and her only option now was to join the party a bit later. 

It was only once she arrived at the penthouse floor where the party was being held that Wanda finally realised how terribly  thought-out her plan was.

What would happen if she didn’t get to talk with you? What would happen if she did, and she only made a fool of herself? Would it be better, then, to stay as two people who’d never conversed so that she might retain what impression you had of her now? Even if that meant she would never get to talk with you the way she wanted?

It was far too late now to change her mind if she wanted to, as she soon found herself walking further from the elevators and into the party. 

The party was rather filled; mostly, they were familiar faces, but it looked like many brought guests, and some guests had brought some of their own. It seemed that Steve was right — atop of celebrating the taking down of the HYDRA base, this was also a social get-together. 

She was still relatively at the edges of the room, so she was still going unnoticed. As she walked over to the bar, fidgeting with her fingers as she did, she took the time to look around and try to spot you. She reached the bar, crossing her forearms on top of its counter, and tried to draw the least attention to herself while avoiding eye contact with anyone as her eyes raked through the crowd. 

Eventually she caught sight of you also at the bar, but at the very edge with your own drink, your back facing the party. Wanda’s chest fluttered and she felt she nearly stumbled moving one foot in front of the other when she turned to walk towards you. 

She worried what would happen if someone suddenly approached you from behind, which would force her to then stop wherever she was standing and pretend she hadn’t just failed at her attempt to come up to you. 

The pressing concern aided her greatly, and she was well on her way to coming up to you without hesitation. But once she actually made her way to your side and once you raised your head from your glass and looked at her, Wanda damned herself for being so distracted, now without a plan or even a terribly-planned script to follow in making conversation with you. She didn’t even get to look at what you were wearing. 

It would be too strange of her to look you up and down before greeting you, right?

“Hi,” she said, hoping that the small smile she felt on her face was actually there lest she look like an absolute fool.

You turned around in your seat in order to face her, and now having your complete, undivided attention made Wanda’s legs feel like mush. “Hi,” you replied with a friendly smile. “Are you enjoying yourself? I don’t think I’ve seen you at a party yet.”

Wanda swallowed and nervously drew shapes against the bar counter with her fingernails, also trying her best to maintain a steady, friendly smile. “No — this is the first I’ve gone to. I haven’t been here for very long. I decided only a moment ago to come.”

“I’m glad you chose to come,” you told her and suggested for her to take the barstool beside you. Wanda lifted herself onto the seat and sat, facing you.

While you were talking, Wanda took the chance to look at what you were wearing. You looked nice, and Wanda thought you always dressed in a way that put-together, respected people did. She saw you in some likeness to the well-dressed characters on the sitcoms she liked — but, of course, modern. 

Maybe she had been taking too long to respond, for you spoke again: “How have you been doing? I know that the move must have been rather hard to go through.”

When she took a moment to respond and found that a response wasn’t immediately escaping her, Wanda felt panic settle in her chest. She knew she should have planned out what to say. She looked like an idiot in front of you. She didn’t know the first thing about socialising or making friends. 

“It was hard,” she said finally. “It is hard. Not so bad now. I mean, I’m trying to adjust.”

You nodded in understanding and Wanda felt herself losing your interest; she was sure that your responses’ intentions were now only to remain polite, to keep conversing with her because you knew she didn’t make very much effort to go out. 

Then you asked, “Did you want me to order you a drink?”

“Oh, I’m okay — I don’t drink,” Wanda answered, fidgeting with her fingers between her knees. Truthfully, she’s never tried alcohol before. Maybe she should have taken you up on your offer. 

“How have you been getting along with the team?”

“I think well. I like everyone. They’ve been very kind to me,” Wanda said. She could hear herself as she spoke to you; she sounded robotic and uninteresting. She thought she might try her hand at being honest about what she was thinking then and there. “But Pietro was always the most social of us both. It is hard to get along with others without him leading the conversation.”

Wanda must have not noticed how solemn she became after she mentioned Pietro, for you reached out and brushed her shoulder with your hand supportively, your fingers squeezing gently around her and lingering for a moment before letting your arm drop.

“I understand,” you sympathised. “You don’t need to pressure yourself into anything — really. I think you fit in here well, and I think you’ve been doing a wonderful job.”

That was the first time anyone truly supported Wanda like that; she was supported by the team as she was grieving the loss of her brother, always being told that she had a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand if she ever wanted someone to talk to. 

There was something frustrating about the way the team approached her grief. They had to have anticipated that she would feel a bit better at some point — or at least well enough to get back to team member material. 

In the way she was spoken to, Pietro and her struggles with his death were always approached as something she would get over at some point or another — like Pietro was something she was going to get over. She didn’t expect anyone to understand how she felt nor to share in her grievances, but it seemed to her that what she was going through was seen only as a temporary distraction to the rest of the team. 

They were kind in giving her their support, but her grief never seemed quite real enough to them. 

Granted, she was rather new to the team, so she understood, to some degree, their inability to understand her pain. But it was frustrating, nevertheless. 

But with you, it was different. 

You didn’t talk about Pietro or her struggles and pain like it was something to get over. You valued her as she was now, and saw her efforts as they were now. 

Wanda felt slightly pathetic for how worked up she was getting over your response, be it as brief as it was, but what you said meant quite a lot to her. She felt, for the first time, that she was being spoken to as a real person rather than a ball of temporary grief and pain. 

“Thank you… I really appreciate–”

She was cut off when you were called to meet one of Tony’s friends, an expert in software development who had even helped program some of the software you used for communication with the team while they were working on the field. Naturally, they wanted the two of you to meet. 

For a moment, Wanda forgot how popular you were amongst your colleagues. Why wouldn’t you be? It was only that you had a certain kindness and authenticity about you that seemed signature to you. But if Wanda admired that about you, and if she idolised you, why wouldn’t anyone else?

You looked at Tony calling you over then at Wanda, who was awkwardly staring at the floor in some pitiful stance of defeat. It made your chest tighten.

This was Wanda’s first time joining in at one of the parties, and you were the first she spoke to. Moreover, there was a kind of sensitivity to her that you knew lay beyond her typical timidity.

Through the conversation with her, you could vaguely see Wanda’s eyes flickering behind your shoulder occasionally, where the floor’s balcony was. From there, one would have a view of the spacious training fields and the expansive forests beyond that separated the base from the main roads.

Tonight, there were clear skies and a rather prominent moon. 

Gently, you tapped the back of Wanda’s hand that was resting on the edge of the bar to get her attention, and she raised her head and met your eyes. 

“Would you like to step out onto the balcony with me?” you asked. “I’m not quite in the mood to talk with them right now.”

Wanda seemed to perk up and she straightened in her seat. She nodded, and when you stepped off from your barstool, she followed and trailed behind you as you headed for the balcony. 

She watched from behind as you led her forward. She played idly with the tips of her fingers as she watched your hair brush against your back, watching the back of your head attentively as if it could tell her anything about you. 

Frankly, she felt a bit starstruck.

A certain panic settled within her as you opened the balcony door and ushered Wanda outside and into the warm evening air; she didn’t know what to say now. 

She wasn’t certain if she was interesting enough at all to have such intimate conversation with. 

What could she say that could possibly be of interest to you?

In spite of the disappointed chatter and lighthearted jabs from the rest of the team in response to your very-obvious aversion to socialising, you closed the balcony door behind you until it clicked shut softly until it was only you and Wanda outside. 

“Is it okay that you’re out here with me?” Wanda asked, looking at you as she stepped beside you. 

“Of course,” you answered and walked forward until you could stand against the rails of the balcony. “Why not?”

Wanda appreciated how easy it was to talk with you, and how your relationship with the team wasn’t all that you were. “I thought that maybe you might prefer being out there.”

“No — I want to be here.”

Wanda flushed and she looked away, using the excuse of looking out past the training fields as an excuse to hide her face from you. 

Making a bold move, Wanda thought that she might be honest with you; she had the real opportunity to make a friend, granted she pulled it off. “Y/N, I really appreciate you being so kind to me.” She garnered some confidence and turned her body and looked at you.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you replied bashfully, and Wanda noticed that you also seemed a bit timid. She thought you were sensitive, and she liked that.

“But also,” Wanda added, taking in a small breath, “I really appreciate your effort in being sympathetic towards Pietro and I, even when we did not deserve it — especially after Johannesburg. Before your interview broadcast, I had never known of such kindness. It seemed you knew more about what Pietro and I wanted before even we did.”

Without a thought behind it, Wanda’s eyes left yours and she added, “I wish he was able to meet you. I am sure he would have felt equally as stunned by you.”

You asked, “I stun you now, do I?”

Surprised by the realisation of what she said aloud, Wanda looked at you and at the sight of your slight smile, also realised that you were teasing her. She flushed and rubbed her warm cheek with the back of her knuckle and distracted herself with two of the party guests walking through the field.

Wanda reminded herself that she came to make a friend — to be friends with you. So she spoke again. “To be honest, yes,” she replied. “I think you are admirable; everyone seems to like you very much, and the kind of bravery and kindness you have is of a kind I did not previously know could ever be sincere.”

She finally said it, and now, Wanda felt anxious about what you might say next.

You shifted and repositioned yourself as you pondered for a moment in consideration. “Well, I have to confess that most if not all of my bravery is rather insincere — I’m truly not as brave as you might think. In fact, I would argue that you’re more brave than I; you’ve experienced so much, undergone so much change, and yet you seem to have more drive than anyone to try your hardest at adjusting and getting back on your feet.” 

You thought she was braver than you? Wanda could collapse. She felt her chest flutter.

“But… the kindness,” you said, “is very sincere. I’m glad you see it that way.”

Wanda found herself stepping closer to you, feeling more comfortable in your company and feeling that she wanted to be closer to you physically, to hear your words within a closer vicinity and to see your face free of the soft shadows that the moonlight casted along the curve of your nose and the angle of your cheekbone. 

“I think you’re really special,” you told her. “I’m happy that you’re a part of the team. I’m glad you’re here.”

In all her life, there was only one place Wanda ever felt she belonged — with her family. Over some time, what this meant was redefined with the bombing of her home when she was ten and, recently, with the loss of her brother. There was a feeling of loss, an empty pit that burrowed itself within the deepest depths of Wanda’s identity where Pietro and her family and some sort of identity should have been.

It was not only others and her country that she lost, but a part of herself, when all the landmarks she had ever belonged to were stolen from her. But if she could learn anything from still being able to stand where she was and try her best and be brave — like you said — in spite of all her loss and grief, it was that she was not all that she identified herself with.

She still existed, and was still worth something, even without all that was lost.

It would be difficult to even begin finding who she was, exactly, without Pietro and Sokovia and her parents and the truths of herself and the world that HYDRA had always taught her. But she hoped that you might be at least the first step to her self-discovery — you were her first friend.

“Are you alright?” you asked, tipping your head down slightly to try getting a better look at Wanda’s face. 

Wanda had lost herself in her thoughts and forgot to reply to you. She must have been silent for a bit of time. “Yes, I’m okay.” She subtly swiped at her cheeks when she realised she was crying — perhaps it was from thinking of her family or of Sokovia, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the moment was that she started crying — as she looked over at the field for a distraction again.

Without another word, you stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Wanda’s shoulders, bringing her against your body in a soft hug. It was wordless and quiet and casual — support and comfort without any conditions.

Every time Wanda believed that she’d fully grasped the world’s capacity for kindness, believed that there couldn't possibly be something more gentle than what you have thus far shown her, you prove her wrong. 

She hoped she would never be right.

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your roommate, toji, can’t pay rent - again. he promises to pay you back soon, but you’re tired of his behaviour.

tags. (perv) roommate!toji fushiguro x female reader. smut, pōrn with plot kinda. dirty talk. rough. p in v -> unprotected. crēampie. fīngering. praise. reader gets called ‘princess, girl’. degrādation. toji’s a womaniser and asshole, like i’m talking dusty, manipulative asshole. unestablished relationship.

“that shit again?” toji rolls his eyes as he lazily switches between the channels on the television. he knows exactly what you’re going to say next. your complaining has a certain pattern that he’s picked up on.

he smacks his lips after being done with his snack. your snack - the one you put your name on before putting in the fridge. the dark-haired man shrugs, “i told ya, girl. i ain’t got the money this month.”

your head feels like it’s going to explode with anger. you know toji has the money. you saw him count the bills on his bed just yesterday, when you passed by his room to go to yours. “yeaaaah - gambled it all away, right?”

the usual excuse he uses. you’re sick and tired of hearing that for the nth time. it’s the same story every month. toji’s a lazy bastard. he’s living off your salary at this point. unapologetically.

“yep,” toji yawns, not even attempting to sound convincing, “got that right.” he knows you’re not going to do anything about it, so he takes advantage of that fact. you’re all bark, no bite.

you always tell him that you’re going to kick him out if he doesn’t pay, though you never take the action you swear on doing. toji has you wrapped around his finger and he knows.

even now, he notices the way you try not to look down at his body. his black shirt is slightly lifted, showing his happy trail that stops at the waistband of his boxers. the fact that he’s sitting on the couch with his legs spread only makes the sight more appealing.

“well, pack your bags then,” you cross your arms after succeeding into averting your attention to the problem at hand. you point at the door with a nod of your head, “i want you to leave by tonight.”

toji struggles to hold back a chuckle. he’ll play along for your sake and act upset by the situation. the tall man sighs and throws his hands up in defeat, trying to gain some pity, “aw, c’mon. have some mercy on me, yeah?”

you’re the one rolling your eyes this time. you’re not going to be naive about this anymore. you’re not going to fall into his trap. you stomp your way over to his room and grab the bag he uses for the gym, aggressively filling it with a bunch of his clothes.

“you’re going out,” you hiss as you walk back to your living room. you throw the filled bag at toji’s chest without hesitation. you know that you’re no match to a grown man, but you’re too fired up to care, “out. i don’t need some useless bum like you in my house.”

toji’s grin drops. his jaw clenches as he gets his bag thrown at him. you seem more serious about this. normally, you’d just cuss him out and lock yourself up in your room. you’re slowly breaking out of the helpless cycle you were in.

“move it,” you huff. your patience is wearing thin. you stand close to toji, your legs nearly touching. you’re towering over him as he sits on the couch, which gives you all the needed confidence. though if he were to stand up it’d be the exact opposite.

toji frowns and starts to realise that his usual manipulation tactics won’t work. he’s trying to think of other ways to distract you of your current dissatisfaction. some more… direct ways.

“you don’t mean that,” his voice turns husky. a real deep tone he only uses when he needs something out of a woman. toji’s veiny hand moves to the side of your thigh, slowly crawling up your skin while he gauges your reaction.

he’s never attempted distracting you in a sexual manner. perhaps now is the perfect moment to try out if it works.

your breath hitches as you feel his touch on your bare thigh. such a warm touch. you’re not going to act like toji hasn’t been attractive to you all this time. his cocky attitude is annoying, yes, but the nonchalance is also a huge turn on.

you’re in a daze. your rational mind is screaming at you to kick that man to the curb—to let him suffer the consequences of his actions��but you’re weak. you’ve sworn never to get involved with him intimately. you wouldn’t want to sleep with an asshole like him.

“do not,” your voice is shaky, revealing the truth behind your contradicting words. you can’t resist him and you’re slowly realising it. you don’t want to end up as all the other women toji’s charmed with his words and actions. you promised yourself that you wouldn’t fall for him.

and yet here you are.

“i can repay you in a different way, y’know?” toji hums, his other hand landing on your left thigh. he rubs your plush flesh up and down in a slow manner. his eyes watch yours intently. you’re nervous and it’s painfully obvious to him. he suppresses a victorious grin, “y’ sure you don’t wanna, princess?”

you’re as weak as they come. toji’s toying with you and you’re allowing it. you’re no different than those women he fucks every other day when he needs something from them. be it money or just stress relief.

you tremble as you feel his fingers graze against the insides of your thighs.

“i take the silence as a yes, hm?” toji chuckles haughtily. he cups the back of your thighs, just below your ass, pushing your body closer to his. you’re standing between his legs and his head is close to your chest. he looks up at you, “use y’r words f’me, pretty thing.”

your brain stops working. you’re so easy. all toji has to do is call you by those alluring names and you’re all his. his callused fingers stop at the hem of your shorts. they continue to sensually rub the material, inching closer to your clothed cunt.

“say you want it,” toji whispers, his raspy voice making your knees weak. you want it, but you’re stubborn enough to deny your desires. you’re throbbing, aching and wet for him. your eyes catch a glimpse of the bulge in his grey sweatpants.

“no, i won’t,” you try to keep your dignity, however you’re slowly losing it. it’s inevitable. you’re putty in his hands. you let out a high pitched whine when toji ‘accidentally’ slides his fingertips back and forth over your clothed pussy, “mgh—okay, okay. fuck—i want you. need you.”

you blurt the words out before you can stop them from leaving your mouth. you silently curse at yourself. your bodily desires have fully taken over. you hold onto toji’s broad shoulders, your grip on them so tight that it sends a shiver down his spine.

he knew that you’d give in sooner or later. the dark-haired man watches as you lower your head, placing it in the crook of his neck to hide yourself from him. he coos condescendingly—

“mhm. tha’s more like it,” toji wastes no time to pull your shorts down to your ankles. he licks his lips, breathing heavily against your bare shoulder. he can’t wait to take this further. he groans the moment your wetness makes contact with his hand, “shiiittt, she’s fuckin’ wet. bet you dreamt about this.”

your panties are discarded on the floor not a second later. you whine in embarrassment, though still spread your legs. you feel ashamed because of how quickly you gave in to his charms. you thought you’d be different, but alas.

your roommate is one hell of a womaniser.

“y’ think i don’t see those lewd looks you give me?”toji clicks his tongue. his green irises are shining brightly. he enjoys the feeling of your sloppy cunt against his bare hand. his thick fingers rub between your folds, teasing your entrance, “nasty little girl. got me wanting to fuck you silly every single time.”

the desire has been mutual all this time. you’ve been driving toji crazy since day one. the way you think you’re being subtle when checking him out never fails to make him hard. or when you walk around the apartment in those skimpy clothes—those shorts that define your ass so well.

he’s sure that you are doing it all on purpose. not wearing a bra, staring at him for too long when he comes out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist, sneaking glances at the outline of his fat cock. you’re not as clever as you think you are.

toji finally has you in his grasp and he’s not letting go. he’ll pound you to the mattress, until you’re satisfied and overstimulated.

he’ll get revenge for all those times you’ve (un)intentionally left him hard. all those times you left him sexually frustrated. all those times he had to resort to other things to relieve himself. all those times he had to waste his cum on his hands or on other women.

all those times he couldn’t fuck you—his pretty little roommate.

“you’re a pervert,” you whimper as you feel toji slip two fingers inside you without warning. his eyes nearly roll back from how tight you’re gripping his digits. it’s going to be so worth it once he’s got your pussy wrapped around his cock.

“yeah, but tha’s how you like ‘em,” toji laughs, not taking any offence to the accusation. he is a pervert when it comes to you and you secretly love it. the squelchy sounds echoing through the living space are all the evidence he needs, “no need to deny it. y’r cunt is doing all the talking for ya.”

you weakly punch his chest at his dirty words. he’s riling you up in both the best and worst ways possible. you moan and your hips shake from pleasure, feeling him curl his fingers up inside you. you hiccup and try to silence him, “shut up!”

toji loves seeing you deny your own feelings. it gives him so much power over you. he knows you’ll come back crawling to him when he’s done here.

after all, you’re stuck with him. literally. he’s not leaving this apartment any time soon. not when he’s got a cute roommate like you awaiting him whenever he comes back home.

soon enough, you end up in his bed. it smells like him. you’ve only imagined being in this situation. with him on top of you, between your legs, filling you to the brim with his cock. it’s huge—bigger than you thought it’d be. no wonder those other girls come back for more.

you can’t talk anymore. the only noises leaving your lips are moans—signs of the pleasurable sensations rushing through your body. your vision is blurry and all you can think of is this moment that you’ve waited for. to be dicked down by your roommate.

perhaps you’re the pervert here.

“bratty attitude nowhere to be found, heh,” toji snickers while his hips ram against yours. flop flop flop — it’s embarrassing how much noise your wet cunt is making. you’re dripping on his sheets while he’s splitting you open. he’s doing it so, so well. he grabs both your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head, giving you no chance to touch him.

toji pants as his thrusts increase in speed. he can’t keep his eyes away from you. you’re beautiful underneath him like this, on his bed, your body a piece of art he wishes to admire every single night. he smirks, “all you needed was some dick to shut that mouth of y’rs up, huh?”

you’re humiliated by how cheap you made yourself seem. you don’t respond to the man’s words and just wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in. toji grunts and slaps your thighs with his free hand, surprised by your actions, “fuck—didn’t know my roommate was such a slut in bed.”

your mouth hangs open. you’re sure you’re drooling by now. toji’s voice nearly becomes inaudible with how focused you are on the feeling of his cock. it’s hitting that right spot over and over again, the curve of his pink tip almost kissing your cervix.

“fffnghh, right there!” you moan loudly. you don’t care if the neighbours file noise complaints against you. they should’ve done so before, when toji had other women over. you remember how many times you had to put your earplugs in because your bastard of a roommate couldn’t keep it down.

the same bastard that’s fucking you so good right now. you can’t recall the amount of orgasms you’ve had already. toji didn’t even cum once and that’s only embarrassing you more. your inability to control yourself is pathetic. maybe not to toji though; he enjoys how easily he can make you spasm and squirt underneath him.

“i got’cha,” toji’s voice turns sweet for a split second once he sees how desperate you are for another mind blowing climax. if he knew you’d be this needy for him, he’d have taken you to bed long time ago.

“need you to say smthing f’me, ‘kay?” toji whispers and bites your earlobe, nibbling on it. his husky voice in your ear is like heaven. it makes you want to listen to whatever he has to say. you can hear the smirk in his voice when he increases his pace, “say that i don’t need to pay y’ back no more.”

you nearly choke on your own spit. toji is an asshole—manipulating your moment of weakness and vulnerability for his own benefit—and yet you allow him. you try to fight the urge to give in, but it’s too late.

“y-you don’t have to pay me back anymore,” you repeat with a whine and shake your head. it’s impossible to think rationally when you’ve got a fat dick all the way in your cunt, hitting all the right spots. your eyes roll back as you babble inaudible stuff in between moans, “promise, you don’t have to—mghhh!”

toji hisses at the feeling of you tightening up around him. you’re insatiable, wanting to continue until you’re able to milk every drop of cum out of his heavy balls. he’s never had a girl be so desperate for him. so dumb and easy.

“atta girl,” your roommate hums and moves his hands to lift your thighs. his inhuman pace only seems to increase with the change of positions. toji stares down at you from behind his black bangs, “no more whinin’ about money ‘n stuff, yeah?”

his gaze is a mix of pure lust and intimidation. you nod your head along to all he says, too cockdrunk to resist anything. you’re living the dream and you’re unwilling to ruin it, “y-yes, not gonna do it again.”

toji groans at the sound of your whiny voice. he’s going to make you addicted to him—that’s his ultimate goal. his hips slam against yours repeatedly, a slick trail of your fluids sticking to his pelvis, “shit, pussy’s sucking me in, princess.”

you can’t get enough of him and vice versa. the dark-haired man fails to keep his composure for a second, pushing his body weight on yours, caging you right against the mattress. he can’t stop his cock from throbbing each time it dives into your insides.

“gonna cum real deep in you,” toji grumbles. he’ll give you every drop, all the way into your womb. he’ll make you his woman for tonight and the many nights yet to come. if it’s left up to him, he’ll gladly fuck you like this every day, “be greedy ‘n take it all.”

you gasp and feel toji thrusting harder into your aching cunt. you didn’t think he’d be able to go faster. you mewl and scream about how good he feels, which only feeds toji’s big ego. he grips your thighs tightly, nails digging into the flesh.

“fuck!” white dots appear in your vision as you reach your peak once again. you feel like your heart stops beating for a second. you involuntarily start convulsing, legs shaking and hips bucking up to meet toji’s.

he hisses and closes his eyes, shooting his creamy load all the way inside of you. ropes of warm cum spurt out of his tip, filling your pussy like both of you have always imagined. he sighs and thrusts a couple more times, making sure no drop escapes your messy folds, “mhmmm, there we go, girl.”

you’re still dazed. you’re slack-jawed, your spit dripping down your chin. you’re more sleepy than ever. no one has made you feel this good in a while. toji watches you struggle to stay conscious and huffs proudly.

he rolls off you and lays down on his back, stretching his arms. he yawns—not bothering with aftercare at the moment. he’ll let you cool off first before he gets you a towel to clean up. toji tilts his head to the side and grins, “debt repaid.”

he’s said it so casually. you don’t notice what he’s implying until you’ve calmed down. your rationality comes back to you after a couple seconds, and when it does, your heart sinks to your stomach. your eyes widen as you recall what you’ve basically promised him.

you promised not to ask for the money he owes you ever again. oh, stupid you.

“wait—”

unfortunately for you, toji’s already snoring. his eyes are closed as he lays there like he hasn’t just rearranged your guts and manipulated you to say stuff you can’t take back. you scoff and rub your eyes, kicking your legs in frustration at your own naivety.

what a bastard.

[gothcsz]

Motive | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 3 of Unscripted Desire | ~10k wc | Series Masterlist | gif cred | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Another chaotic shoot... but at least it's in Malibu?

Tags: more plot keeps sneaking into the porn, angst, frankie has entered the villa, jealous!javi, reader stands on business, it's a porn set other people are also fucking, masturbation on camera (m), dirty talk, lots of cursing (f bombs my beloved), an attempt at a blowjob, javier can't get it up, a dash of misogyny, author projects her ooc thoughts about problematic age gaps in the porn industry, no use of y/n, reader has a degree in film production, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: me nervous that part 3 isn't going to live up to the hype? more likely than you think! 🙂‍↕️ this fic is taking on a brain of its own and i'm just along for the ride, baby! for my just the tip stans— i'm sorry but i'm going to have to edge you until part 4 *crowd boos and i'm dragged off stage* i was going to wait to post this, but i really wanted to get it out because i'm so damn proud of it lowkey, lol, so i hope you all like it 🖤 let a bitch know what ya think! also, shoutout to my pookie @persephone-girl for reading over this 💋 love u mamas

Your phone’s shrill ring pierces through the haze of sleep, and you groan in frustration, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

The comforter is pulled tight over your head, shielding you from the annoyingly bright sunlight filtering through your window. Your hand shoots out, fumbling blindly across the bedside table until your fingers finally close around the receiver. 

“What?” you grumble, voice thick with sleep and muffled beneath your sheets.

“There she is! My beautiful, talented camerawoman. Have I ever told you how much I appreciate what you do?” Robbie’s overly cheerful voice blares through the phone, so you pull it back from your ear slightly, wincing.

“Why are you calling me this early in the morning?” you snap, already regretting picking up.

“Early? It’s almost noon—”

“What do you want, Robbie?” You cut him off, not in the mood for small talk, especially since last night’s bar shift ran past four in the morning. You were hoping to sleep through most of the day, recovering in your bed with no interruptions. Clearly, that plan has gone out the window.

“Look, I’ve got a big shoot happening in Malibu today and I’m short-staffed. I could really use your magic touch behind the camera.”

“No.”

 “C’mon,” he drags the word out, “I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for working on your day off.”

You rub your eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to you. “How much?”

He tosses out a number, and despite your best effort to remain indifferent, your eyes widen. Damn. That’s more than decent money.

“Malibu’s all the way across town,” you point out, “I won’t make it there in time if I take the bus. And a taxi? That’ll cost me a fortune.”

“Don’t worry about that. Your ride’s outside waiting for you.”

You blink, confused, and get out of bed, dragging the corded phone with you as you move toward the bay window. You pull the curtain back just enough to peer down at the busy street below.

Sure enough, Steve is there, leaning casually against his Jeep with sunglasses on, a cigarette between his lips. The second he spots you looking down, he grins like the cheshire cat and waves.

“Seriously?” you mutter to Robbie, flipping Steve off with a half-hearted smile. “And what if I’d said no?”

“We both know you wouldn’t have.”

After a few more quick exchanges, you hang up, glancing once more at your ride through the window before turning to rush and get yourself ready for the day ahead.

Truth be told, you’re still not fully awake, your body moving on autopilot as you shuffle through your morning (midday) routine.

It’s been ages since you’ve been to the beach— especially one as nice as Malibu’s. The thought of it softens the blow of losing your rest day. You tell yourself you’ll make the best of it, turning this unexpected workday into something that benefits you, too.

After shooting wraps, you’ll indulge in a quiet evening by the shore, sinking your toes into the warm sand with a good book in hand. No rush to head back. This time, you’ll gladly take a taxi if it means getting some peace seaside.

With that plan in mind, you dress for the day accordingly. Your halter-style bathing suit doubles as a cute top, the color complimenting your skin, while your favorite denim shorts sit comfortably over your bikini bottoms.

You pack a few essentials into your beach bag and make sure to grab your camera bag as well. Once you’ve double-checked that everything’s packed, you make your way downstairs, feeling a bit more awake now.

Steve catches sight of you approaching and flashes a dramatic grin, straightening up like he’s about to chauffeur royalty.

“Your chariot awaits,” he announces with an exaggerated flourish, swinging the passenger door open.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the bemused laugh that escapes your lips. “God, you’re ridiculous,” you mutter, shaking your head as you climb into the seat, tossing your beach bag onto the floor.

He shuts the door behind you with a smirk. “Ridiculous? I prefer charmingly dedicated to my craft.” He hops into the driver’s side, flicking the cigarette away before starting the car.

You snort at his self-satisfaction, leaning back against the seat and putting on the seatbelt. 

“Malibu, huh? How the fuck did he manage to swing that?”

He chuckles, one hand lazily draped over the wheel, the other tapping out a rhythm on his knee. “He didn’t tell me much either— just asked me to stop by and pick you up on my way.”

That makes sense. Robbie’s always been a bit scatterbrained, occasionally running around like he’s managing a multi-million-dollar empire when, in reality, he’s holding it together with duct tape and half-assed enthusiasm.

The drive is surprisingly fun, Steve’s constant jokes keeping your spirits high. He always manages to make you laugh, which is why you tolerate his quirks. 

“I’m pretty sure Javi’s going to be there,” he says, almost too nonchalantly, meaning he’s in the mood to be messy.

You keep your gaze focused on the coastline, watching as palm trees blur past. The wind from the open windows has you squinting momentarily, but it can’t cool the sudden heat spreading through your body. 

“It’s not going to be weird seeing him, right?” He presses and you finally turn to face him, moving your sunglasses to the top of your head.

“Why would it be weird?” you ask, the challenge clear in your voice.

He shoots you a look, brows raised and lips quirked in that irritating way of his. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe ‘cause of the whole flirtin’ with you during the middle of a scene thing? Or, y’know, the elevator incident… which, by the way, what the fuck even happened there?” He glances at you, curiosity practically oozing out of him.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, but you can’t stop the way your thighs rub together at the memory. 

Javier’s mouth... God. “None of your damn business.”

“Don’t tell me you fucked him.”

You laugh, loudly, the sound bordering on forced. “Absolutely not.”

He shoots you that okay, sure look, and you groan internally.

Steve’s like a dog with a bone when he gets curious, and you know he’s not going to let this go until you give him something. You sigh, deciding to indulge him— partially. 

“He was being an asshole,” you start, and he immediately interjects with, “Nothing new there,” causing both of you to share a laugh at Javier’s expense.

You shake your head, returning your sunglasses to the bridge of your nose. “No, seriously. He was pushing my buttons, being his usual peacock self. I don’t even know how it escalated, but one moment we’re arguing, and the next... he’s got his tongue in my pussy.”

Steve chokes on his own spit at your bluntness. He’s heard and seen much worse on set, yet your confession has him all tripped up. 

“So, you did fuck him?”

You roll your eyes again, shifting in your seat as the horny flashbacks hit you all at once— Javier’s lips wrapped around your clit, the perfect rhythm of his tongue, his fingers.

You shove those thoughts away, focusing on the road ahead, annoyed at both Javier and Steve now. “Getting head isn’t fucking. It’s, like, third base. And anyway, I made it clear— that’s all he was getting from me. I’m not about to waste my time rolling around in bed with him.”

He gives you a look— a knowing look— and you scoff, shaking your head. “What now?” 

“Nothing. You’re just the first person I’ve heard say that about him.”

“Someone’s gotta humble his ass,” you mutter, though the words feel heavier than they should. You try to act like you’ve put Javier out of your mind, like that moment was nothing but a blip in your life, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

You’ve never met anyone like him, and the fact that he can elicit such reactions from you pisses you off so bad.

As the coastline stretches out in front of you, Malibu drawing closer with every mile, you can’t help but wonder if seeing Javier today will be as easy as you’re pretending it will be.

The mansion is far more extravagant than anything you could have imagined. Its grand facade, with towering columns and ivy crawling up the sides, feels like something out of a movie set, and for a second, you almost forget why you’re here.

But then, as soon as you step past the threshold, you hear it— echoing from deep within the house are the unmistakable sounds of exaggerated moans, grunts, and the rhythmic thump of bodies meeting.

You adjust the strap of your camera bag on your shoulder, your beach bag abandoned in Steve’s car. As you step further into the foyer, Robbie appears, that infamous smirk plastered on his face.

“Long way from home, aren’t you, Dorothy?” he jokes, taking in your wide-eyed amusement as you scan the expensive decor— the towering glass chandelier overhead, the marble floors gleaming beneath your feet, the floor-to-ceiling windows.

You can’t help but be a little impressed. 

But of course, he’s there to give you shit about it. You turn your wide-eyed gaze into a glare, bringing your attention to him. “So funny. You should quit your current sleazy day job and take up another sleazy one— stand up,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He just grins, unbothered by your sharp tone. “You’re always a joy to work with. No wonder Javi asked for you specifically.”

Your entire demeanor shifts viscerally and you curse yourself for it mentally, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what? Javier asked for me?”

He shrugs, indifferent to your confusion. “Yeah. He’s set for a solo shoot upstairs in one of the bathrooms before he’s on with...” He snaps his fingers, trying to remember. “...Mariella. Real pretty girl, it’s her first on-camera gig today.”

The world blurs a little as your mind zeroes in on that one bit of information: Javier asked for you. And not just for any shoot— a solo one. You blink, shaking your head to clear the fog. “I’m sorry, can we go back to the part where I was summoned here by someone who isn’t my boss?”

“Oh yeah, he made a real fuss about it. Sent away the other guy we had lined up for the shoot. Told me he wouldn’t do it unless you were behind the camera. Even offered to pay out of his own pocket just to get you here. It’s the only reason we’re paying you as much as I promised over the phone.”

Your stomach twists and you can feel your face settling into a deep frown, the kind that pulls some of your mood down with it. So that’s why he dangled such a big paycheck in front of you this morning.

After the elevator incident (as Steve has so eloquently named it), after the intense heat of his mouth on you, the way he had you— he said he’d leave you alone. He was supposed to respect the boundaries you set, but here he is, yanking you back into his orbit. 

You can already picture him upstairs, lounging in one of those stupidly lavish bathrooms, probably smirking that damn smirk of his, waiting for you.

You try to squash down the way your pulse quickens at the thought, the lingering memory of his fingers digging into your hips, his tongue working between your thighs, is beckoning you into temptation again.

“Fucking great,” you mutter, more to yourself than your boss. You have half a mind to storm up those stairs, find the pornstar, and give him a piece of your mind before marching right back out to spend your day on the beach— free of drama and distractions and him.

But the reality is, you’re being paid nearly three times what you’d normally make on a gig like this. It’s enough to drown out the temptation to walk away, however satisfying that would be.

You’re an adult. You’ve dealt with worse. You can handle this.

Robbie gives you a sidelong glance, clearly sensing your hesitation. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

With a sigh, you force a smile and shake your head. “As good as it’d feel to leave, no, I’m not. I’ll be up in a sec.”

Relief flashes across his face, and he gives you a few pointers before rushing off into this maze of a house.

You linger for a second longer, taking a deep breath to shake off the nerves. Come on. Get it together. After a final mental pep talk, you head toward the grand staircase that winds up to the second floor. 

The sight that greets you at the top of the stairs stops you in your tracks: Lexxie is splayed out on her back atop some console table, currently getting the life fucked out of her. The visual is chaotic but nothing new. You’ve seen it a hundred times before. 

A guy with a scruffy beard and a beat-up baseball cap stands behind the camera, looking more bored than impressed, barely watching as the two stars go at it.

You lean against the nearby railing, your voice cutting through their heavy breaths and grunts. “Guess your marriage to Javier didn’t last very long,” you tease from off camera, referencing the honeymoon shoot.

The star’s eyes snap open at the sound of your voice, and she flashes you a playful, almost sweet smile in between heavy breaths. “Kinda regretting stepping out on him—oh, fuck.” Her snappy comeback dissolves into a breathy moan as the guy currently rearranging her on the table pushes her legs up to her chest, hitting just the right spot. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your shot,” you say, throwing a glance at the cameraman, knowing how annoying it can be when someone messes with your focus.

He waves it off with a lazy shrug. “It’s not ruined. Honestly, I would’ve quit filming ten minutes ago. It’s starting to drag. I’m impressed they’re still going.”

You let out a small laugh, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, they’ve got stamina like you wouldn’t believe. Makes me feel lazy in bed sometimes, but then I remember how unrealistic this shit actually is.”

He chuckles, scratching at his jaw. “Should make it an Olympic sport. Bet we’d bring home gold.”

“Pretty sure that already exists and it happens in the Olympic Village.” You smirk, finally peeling your eyes away from the couple to look at him properly.

He’s cute in that disheveled, stray-dog kind of way. His curls poke out from under a worn baseball cap, his beard patchy, and his clothes rumpled, like he just rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing he could find. He fits in perfectly with the kind of guys you’d expect on a porn crew.

Earning a genuine laugh from him, he extends a hand. “I’m Frankie.”

You shake it, offering your name in return. “I’m also part of the crew. About to go shoot a scene in the master bathroom.” You explain, noticing how his grip lingers just a little, his smile playful and easy. You feel a bit of warmth rush to your cheeks, and he’s about to say something when—

“Oh fuck, I’m about to cum!” Lexxie’s voice is piercing, loud and breathless, pulling your attention back to the scene.

You shake your head, stifling a laugh. “Well, that’s my cue,” you mutter, stepping out before you get too caught up flirting with him.

“Nice meeting you,” he says before dismounting the camera, moving in closer to capture the so-called money shot.

Cute. Too cute. It’s almost enough to make you forget about the man you’re about to see.

You push open the door to the room Javier’s in, and the sight of him has you doing a double take.

He’s standing in the middle of the room with nothing but a white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, his defined Adonis belt drawing your eyes in a way you hate to admit.

His toned, brown torso glistens with the thinnest layer of sweat, the sunlight pouring into the room making him look like he’s glowing.

You need to toughen up, and in order to do so, you have to bitch at him. It’s the only way to keep that lustful cavewoman instinct away.

“You’re a piece of work,” is what you settle on, making sure to let your tone really punctuate how annoyed you are by the stunt he pulled today.

The second his eyes lock onto yours, amusement flickers behind them, as if he’s been waiting for this confrontation.

He quirks a brow, lips curving into a lazy smile. “¿De que hablas nena—?”

“What happened to ‘if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone’? Was that something you said just to lower my guard? To get me to give you what you want?” You cut him off, keeping your distance even as you notice him inching closer.

Your eyes are daggers as they bore into him, and for a brief second, you hope he feels at least some of the fire burning in your chest. But if he’s affected, he doesn’t show it. He is frustratingly calm, like he’s above it all.

“You gave me no indication that you didn’t want me anymore.” His voice is casual, almost patronizing.

You groan as you throw your hands up in exasperation. “I literally said, ‘Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again.’ What the fuck else do I have to say or do to get you off my back?”

Silence settles between you two as you stand there staring each other down. He’s unreadable, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle.

“Well?” you demand, impatient.

“In my defense— it didn’t sound very convincing.” You stare at him incredulously before turning on your heel. Hell no. He can keep his money and his bullshit. You’re not doing this.

But just as your fingers graze the doorknob, his voice sharpens with a hint of panic, calling your name.

“Wait, look,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to start anything. I just thought—” he pauses, searching for the right words. “I’d feel more comfortable if you were behind the camera during this shoot. Not the other guy Robbie brought in.”

Frankie? He seems so harmless, and besides, Javier’s never had an issue with whoever’s in the room when he’s filming, so why is it a problem now?

However, his tone does sound sincere. You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes and refusing to let your guard down. “This better not be another one of your tricks, Javier. If you’re doing this to try and get into my pants—”

He almost grins, but catches himself just in time, clearly biting back a remark. You can see it in the way his mouth twitches, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. Already have, his brown eyes seem to say. But he holds his tongue, offering a faint nod instead. 

“I promise. No tricks. Just a professional shoot. That’s it.”

You give him one last warning glance before sighing. “Fine. But I’m telling you, Javier—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts, holding up his hands. “I get it and please stop calling me Javier.”

You arch a brow. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but everyone calls me Javi.”

Ugh, whatever. “Okay, fine, Javi. Just show me where I’m supposed to set up.” 

He bites back another grin and motions you with a flick of his head, and with the weird tension simmering, you follow him toward the ensuite bathroom. The door creaks open, revealing an elaborate setup, and you pause in the doorway, eyes widening.

It’s surprisingly... beautiful.

In front of a massive window that overlooks the sprawling blue ocean outside, there’s a porcelain clawfoot bathtub filled with what looks like a milk bath. Various colored flower petals float delicately on the surface, scattered in an almost artful arrangement.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Well, damn. This actually looks nice.” This bathroom is bigger than your entire apartment.

Javier notices your reaction and leans against the doorframe to the connecting walk in closet, arms crossed over his bare chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “Catering to the female gaze,” he says with a cocky shrug, “At least, that’s what my agent told me. Seems like I’m very popular among the ladies.”

The way he says it makes you want to smack him upside the head. He’s pushing your buttons again in the most subtle way, and you hate how good he is at it.

“Cute,” you reply dryly, walking past him to set your camera bag down on the large counter.

As you begin to unpack and set up, you can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, lingering on the exposed skin of your back then dripping down to your legs.

It kind of feels good to have him ogling you like this. The whole look but don’t touch thing is really doing it for you, more than you’d care to admit. There’s a certain power in keeping him wanting, yet also forcing the distance.

“It’s not just about the ladies, you know. I actually want this to be good. I trust you to make it look that way.”

You glance over at him. His playful arrogance has slightly faded, shaded in by the genuine want to make this feel more than just some raunchy scene.

“I’m not a director, I just film it,” you remind him, adjusting the camera lens as you try to play it off. “So just do whatever you think is right. Robbie gave me some pointers, but it wasn’t much.”

“Still,” he presses, “there’s some finesse to what you do.”

At least he’s aware of that. “Let’s just get this over with,” you say, deflecting the compliment.

You finish setting up the camera, adjusting the tripod to get the perfect angle. It’s important to capture the full picturesque scene to begin with— the soft light spilling in through the window, the sparkling blue ocean in the background.

You clear your throat, “Okay, I’m all set for whenever you’re ready.”

Javier moves casually as he unwraps the white towel from around his waist. His cock, already half-hard, demands your attention, but you force yourself to look away. You rub your lips together then lick at them unconsciously, trying to focus on anything other than his naked body.

“Got plans after this?” he asks as though he’s asking you about the weather.

You blink at the normalcy of the question “Just going to hang out by the beach,” you reply plainly, trying to keep your focus on the camera and not on his crotch.

It almost feels strange talking to him like this, without the usual teasing or sexual tension-laden bickering.

“Sounds fun,” he says as he steps into the tub, the water sloshing around him. “Real nice out here. The weather is perfect for it today.”

You watch as he settles in, the milky water rising around his body, and for a moment, you’re completely mesmerized.

The scene in front of you looks like something out of a romantic painting, and it hits you how undeniably beautiful he looks. His skin, a warm golden brown, contrasts perfectly with the creamy white of the bath, and the colorful flower petals floating on the surface make the whole thing look like a dream.

He leans back, the water just kissing his chest, and you catch yourself imagining what a soft, hazy vignette filter would do to the shot, how it would add an enchanting glow to an already intimate scene.

You shake your head slightly, snapping yourself out of the reverie. You’re supposed to be filming him jerking off, not admiring the aesthetics like this is some fine art shoot. But fuck, it’s hard to separate the two when the visuals are this damn good.

Javier, of course, senses your brief distraction. He watches you, eyes thoughtful as he stretches out, letting the water ripple around him. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a slight smirk playing on his lips, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand, despite the heat pooling between your thighs. “Is there a clear direction for this scene, or are you just improvising?”

“I’m just winging it,” his voice is a rich, velvet drawl, a little rough from all the smoking he does. “No dirty talk. They want my natural noises to be the main focus… amongst other things.” He cocks his head to the side, one arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

Heat blooms low in your belly, shooting straight to your cunt at the sight. The way his bicep flexes, the muscles shifting smoothly beneath that taut, sun-kissed skin, showcasing just how defined he is while still looking so maddeningly soft. 

Calm down, girl, you silently reprimand your pussy. She’s fucking purring right now.

You clear your throat and give him a nod, signaling him to begin. Stepping behind the camera, you focus through the lens, grateful for the distance.

Javier moves slowly. His head tips back against the edge of the tub, eyes falling closed, the soft curve of his lashes fanning out like shadows against his skin. One hand trails down, lingering at the hollow of his collarbones. The movements are unhurried, almost reverent, as though he’s savoring the feel of his own skin.

The intimate build-up draws you in, despite your best efforts to remain detached.

You unmount the camera from its tripod after a few moments, stepping closer to him, framing the shot tight around his chest, the slow glide of his hand along his torso. You can’t help but notice the pounding of your heart, each beat mirroring the steady, throbbing pulse at your clit. 

The sight of him— relaxed, fully in his element, bathed in the soft glow of light— stirs that fucking feeling deep within you.

It’s not just desire, though that’s certainly there. It’s the maddening awareness of how sensual, how magnetic this man is. And even though you try to tell yourself you’d feel the same about any other attractive man in his place, you know that’d be a damn lie.

Javier’s hand moves lower, ghosting over the ridges of his soft stomach. His other hand trails slowly through the water, sending gentle ripples through the milky bath. You swallow hard and focus the lens on his face— the slight parting of his pouty pink lips beneath his trimmed mustache that you just now realize has a small patch right above his cupid’s bow.

Even his imperfections are attractive.

The flushed skin of his cock makes an appearance, his thick, swollen head breaking the surface of the water with each subtle movement, teasing you and the camera. The way it peeks through, the slick tip glistening in the milky bath, almost feels like a taunt— winking at you.

Doing as you’re supposed to, you adjust the lens to zoom in on the way his cock flirts with the surface.

If you were anyone else, one of his usual co-stars maybe, you’d lean down and give it a few kitten licks. You’d tease the sensitive crown with your tongue, circling the tip before letting it slide past your lips— just enough to drive him wild.

Your tongue twitches at the thought.

A soft groan escapes his lips as he gets closer to where he’s aching to touch. It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he knows you’re imagining the feel of his cock in your mouth, the taste of his salty skin, the way he’d twitch against your tongue as you tease him until he begs for more.

Maybe he’s picturing your lips wrapped around him, too.

You bite down on your lower lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet, to stay focused, even though your body is betraying you. The mess in your panties, the way your nipples stiffen beneath your bathing suit top— everything about this moment is dangerous.

Then finally, his fist wraps around his cock, a soft slosh of water accompanying the motion. The eroticism of the scene— paired with the proximity, the memory of those hands on you— ignites that annoying need deep inside.

He strokes himself slowly, eyes still closed as though lost in the pleasure of it all. You focus the camera on his hand, on the way it moves with purpose, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, slick with precum.

His groans start to fill the air, and your own body reacts, hips shifting slightly as you try to ignore pressure at your cunt.

“Still with me?” His voice cuts through the silence, raspy and knowing, eyes fluttering open to look at you.

Oh. Have they always been this golden?

“Yeah,” you’re proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady.

Javier’s body is pure, unfiltered sin in motion. As you move around the bathtub to capture every angle, you can’t help but admire him. His muscles shift with every slow pump of his hand, the sinewy lines of his arms and torso rippling just beneath the milky water.

His stomach contracts with each exhale, drawing your gaze lower to the faint trail of hair leading down to his cock, which you catch glimpses of when his hips buck up inadvertently.

His breathing grows heavier, his pouty bottom lip caught between his teeth, brows furrowing in concentration as his pleasure builds. It’s mesmerizing, the way his face contorts, his expressions almost too intimate, too personal for the lens. But you can’t tear your eyes— or the camera— away.

His fist moves with such confidence, touching himself with an unhurried rhythm that only a man used to his own pleasure can manage. Every time his thumb glides over the tip of his cock, a heavier grunt rumbles in his throat and it’s so hot.

You’re too focused on capturing every inch of him that it almost catches you off guard when he begins to speak.

“Wish it was your pretty hand around me right now, baby.” His voice is husky, laced with want, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You blink rapidly, heart stalling in your chest as the camera wavers slightly in your hands. “Javier,” you sigh, his name slipping from your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Fuck, I know, but shit—” His words are more ragged now, spoken between heavy breaths. “You’re all I can think about still. You stay in my mind, muñeca. Can’t get you out.”

Even though every rational part of you knows you should stop him, should leave or at least say something to shut him up, you don’t.

You don’t run, you don’t protest. You just... let it happen.

“Talk to me, please.”

“I-I—” The words get stuck in your throat, “I can’t. I’ll ruin the shoot.” Why is that your priority right now?

“You won’t.”

The way he says it chips at the walls you've built around yourself.

“What do I even say?”

“Anything,” there he goes again, using that tone that makes him sound like he’s begging.

So, you say what you’ve been thinking of since he got into this damn tub. “Your cock is so pretty, Javi.” You purr, throwing all caution to the wind, lying to yourself that this means nothing.

The effect is immediate. He groans, a deep sound from his chest, and his hand moves faster over his shaft, the slickness of the water amplifying the movement. “Fuck,” he says, his breathing now erratic, “say it again.”

Your gaze flicks down and it’s mesmerizing watching the way his body responds to his own touch, but it’s the fact that he’s unraveling in front of you that leaves your mouth dry.

“Such a pretty cock, Javi,” you repeat, voice steadier this time, growing bolder with each passing second. Every flex and contraction of his body feeds the arousal pulsing in you. “I bet it would feel perfect sliding down my throat, hitting the back of it until I’m choking on you.”

All those hours spent listening to cheesy porn dialogue are finally paying off.

His head falls back, exposing the strong column of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. A guttural groan escapes him as the image of what you just said sets in. His other hand moves down to cup his heavy, swollen balls, the water around him rocking more violently now as he starts to lose himself in the fantasy.

“Shit… I’m close,” he growls, voice breaking with need, the words barely coherent. “Keep talking to me, fuck…”

You lean in slightly, the camera momentarily forgotten. “You want to come for me?” Your whisper is dripping with lust, the idea of him falling apart because of you making your pussy ache. “You want to make a mess? Pretend I’m kneeling right here, my mouth open and waiting for you to fill it, warm and wet just for you?”

You’ve seen him come so many times, watched him fill too many cunts with his spend and paint different parts of their pretty bodies— but none of it compares to the sight before you.

The way his body jerks in response tells you everything you need to know. His grip tightens on the edge of the tub, knuckles going white as he pumps faster, rougher, pushing himself toward the brink. His hips start lifting out of the water with every thrust into his own hand, chasing that final release.

“Fuck, yes…,” he groans, voice strangled, barely holding it together. His eyes squeeze shut, every muscle in his body tensing, going rigid as he falls over the edge.

His bilingual expletives cut off into a long, drawn-out moan as his cock twitches, thick ropes of cum spilling out in messy spurts, splattering against his fist, swirling into the milky bathwater. The petals float lazily across the surface, some clinging to his skin, as the evidence of his release drifts around him.

You stand there, heart pounding, frozen as your brain tries to catch up with your pussy.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, fumbling with the camera as you stop the recording. You quickly move to pack everything up and try your damndest not to look at him.

“Wait, don’t—” Javier’s voice is still hoarse, but there’s a touch of urgency to it now, breaking through the post-orgasm haze. You hear the water sloshing violently behind you as he moves, and you know he’s getting out of the tub. “Just… hang on.”

“No. I-I gotta go,” you stammer, your hands frantically packing up the camera, the lens cap slipping through your fingers. You try to grab it, but your nerves are shot and it fumbles. Thankfully, it doesn’t take damage. You’d hate to hear Robbie bitch at you for breaking the brand-new camera.

Just get out of here is the only thought running through your mind. Every time you’re around him lately, you end up a confused, horny, exasperated mess, and you can’t handle it anymore.

“Hey—wait!” Javier slips as he tries to step out of the tub, nearly falling as he reaches for you, his wet feet squeaking against the floor. You turn just in time to see him catch himself, water dripping from his body, his skin still flushed from what just happened.

“What the hell?” You shoot him a look, “You’re gonna break your neck trying to stop me from leaving—”

“I wasn’t—fuck, just let me talk for a second.” He runs a hand through his soaked hair, water dripping down his neck, over the curve of his shoulders, and you hate how even now, you’re distracted by how good he looks. He reaches for the towel and loosely wraps it around his waist. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Neither did I,” you snap, stuffing your gear into your bag, not caring how haphazardly it’s packed. “This— this isn’t what I signed up for. I’m here to work, remember? Not… whatever the fuck that was.”

He steps closer, reaching for your arm, but you yank it away before he can touch you. The last thing you need is his hands on you right now, reminding you of everything you shouldn’t want.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice softens, but there’s a frustration beneath it, like he’s grappling with the same confusion you are. “I wasn’t trying to mess with you, okay? I just… I don’t know what the hell is happening between us either.”

You stop, finally meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes that pulls at the part of you that’s freakishly tethered to him, but you can’t let that get to you now. Not when everything feels so damn complicated.

“Javier, this—” You struggle for words, shaking your head. “This can’t keep happening. I can’t—” You pause, your breath catching. I can’t have you. “I don’t want you,” you correct yourself.

His jaw clenches, muscles ticking under the strain. “Stop bullshitting me,” he growls, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not,” you shoot back, but it comes out too quickly, too rehearsed.

“You’re lying through your fuckin’ teeth, and it’s pathetic. What is so wrong with giving me a chance?” He keeps circling back to this— chances.

One thing about him, he knows how to trigger a fucking migraine. 

“Everything!” The word bursts out of you like a confession. “Everything about this is wrong. It’s why I’ve been trying to stay away since day one, but you’re so— ugh!” You throw your hands up, exasperated, the bathroom suddenly feeling too small and claustrophobic. He’s got you spinning in circles, tying you up in knots, and you can’t think straight around him.

Without a second thought, you turn to leave, your feet moving as if you’re fucking levitating. So what if you’ve made a habit of running away from him? You don’t owe him shit.

“Nena—” Desperation laces his voice and that stupid nickname makes your skin curl. “I don’t want you to leave like this.”

“Well, too bad,” you snap over your shoulder. “I’m leaving so you can’t sweet-talk me into anything.” The slam of the door echoes behind you, a final punctuation to your statement.

As you step out into the hallway, the distant sounds of people fucking filter through the air, kind of grounding you back to the real world.

You can’t keep working with him, not if every interaction is going to end like this. You make a mental note to talk to Robbie after today’s shoot. No more Peña.

The day drags on, the tension from earlier still lingering, but now, sitting outside on the shaded patio, you feel a small reprieve.

A half-eaten sandwich rests before you on the table, your eyes lazily tracing the lines of the zero-edge pool that blends into the horizon. The soft rustle of palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze lulls you into a sense of temporary peace. You glance around, taking in the pristine luxury surrounding you. Rich people really have it made, you think, marveling at the extravagance of someone else’s life.

The spat with Javier lingers but you’ve done your best to ignore it by keeping busy. The other shoots happening in the house have kept you distracted, but you know what’s coming: the last scene of the day— with him— and the new girl, Mariella. A small sigh escapes your lips as you sink deeper into the patio chair, absolutely dreading it.

Your tranquility is shattered when you feel a presence nearby. Already anticipating another confrontation with Javier, you steel yourself and don’t even bother looking up before snapping, “Oh my god, can you just leave me alone—”

The words get jammed in your throat as your eyes land on Frankie, not Javier. He stands there, looking taken aback, a paper bag in one hand and an awkward smile tugging at his lips. You instantly feel like a bitch.

“Shit— sorry,” you stammer, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I thought you were someone else.”

Frankie lets out a small chuckle, brown eyes softening as he rubs the back of his neck. “No worries, I can leave if you want—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, waving him off. “Please, stay. I didn’t mean to be snappy.”

He hesitates for a moment before motioning to the empty chair across from you. “Mind if I sit?”

You shake your head, and he lowers himself into the seat, setting his lunch down. The small talk starts easily, flowing naturally as you both munch on your food. He tells you about his daughter, a proud smile on his face as he recounts how she’s the light of his life. Then he goes on about how his friends call him Catfish because of some dumb inside joke, and also the fact that he’s a retired pilot. It somehow doesn’t surprise you— the career fits him.

“How do you go from flying helicopters to shooting porn?” you ask, the question half serious, half teasing as you lean back in your chair, eyes hidden behind your sunglasses.

Frankie raises an eyebrow and smirks, clearly amused. “Shit happens,” he says with a shrug. “How do you go from having a film production degree to spending your days staring at tits and ass?”

A wry smile tugs at your lips. You tilt your head, pausing for effect. “... Shit happens,” you echo, the irony not lost on either of you.

He snorts, taking a slow sip of his water, the sound of his laughter rolling into the lazy afternoon air. You can’t help but steal a glance from behind your shades, your gaze wandering over his rugged features.

There’s something about the way the sun hits him just right, casting a golden glow over his tanned skin. You swallow, feeling a subtle pull in your chest, an unexpected attraction. He’s not flashy, not like the other guys you’re used to working with— there’s an unspoken confidence in his ease, a solidness that makes you want to keep looking.

“So… who’d you think I was? Just then?” He asks, adjusting his cap.

You try not to let your small smile falter. “Oh, just an annoying coworker.”

“Ah, the kind who shows up at the worst times, huh?”

“Exactly,” you reply with a laugh, “You know the type.”

Frankie leans in just slightly, lowering his voice. “Well, I’m glad I’m not that guy.” There’s a flicker of flirtation in his tone, his eyes lingering a beat too long. “But if you ever need someone to… keep him under control, you just let me know. Got the remedy for that right here.” 

He exaggeratedly flexes his biceps, and the snug t-shirt he’s wearing pulls taut around his arms, highlighting their impressive size.

You can’t help but admire the view— he’s really fun to look at, all charming smiles and playful confidence.

“I might just take you up on that, actually,” you reply, matching his energy with a teasing smile of your own. “I could definitely use someone who knows how to handle things.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his pink lips. “I’m more than equipped for that, trust me.”

For a second, it feels like the two of you are in your own little world— until, of course, it comes crashing down.

A voice cuts through the moment like a knife. “We’re ready for the last scene.”

You turn to see Javier standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight, his gaze flicking between you and Frankie. His entire posture screams annoyance.

“And who are you?” Frankie retorts, squinting one eye against the harsh sunlight, playful defiance dancing in his tone.

Javier doesn’t seem to like that response at all. “I’m ready to get this shit done with,” he snaps, and you narrow your eyes, practically shooting daggers at him.

Frankie clears his throat, sizing up Javier’s bristling energy. “Right.”

You catch the word presumido slip from his lips— the Spanish insult that has you exhaling a light laugh through your nose, because he’s so spot on and he doesn’t even know it.

Both of you stand, Frankie gathering the remnants of your lunch. “If you’d like some company down by the beach later, I’ll still be around,” he adds smoothly, sliding the proposition in there as casually as if he were just suggesting grabbing coffee. You almost don’t mind him crashing your solo date.

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, pushing your chair in. “It would be great to not have to take the taxi back, but I was willing to do it for a nice afternoon by the water.” You can feel Javier’s possessive stare burning into you from across the way.

Frankie, absolutely unbothered, leans in closer, a charming grin on his face. “Here’s my number if you need that ride.” A pen appears out of nowhere, and he scribbles down his digits on a clean corner of his napkin, tearing it off with an effortless confidence before handing it to you.

“Definitely,” you say with a flirty smile, tucking the napkin into your pocket, feeling a thrill against the scowling presence of the spectator watching from the sliding glass door 

Frankie branches off to use the restroom and you push past Javier, no intention of speaking to him until—

“If you spent less time flirting with the crew and more time focusing on your job, we’d be finished by now.”

You can practically taste his jealousy.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him, your patience running thin. “Really, Javi? You’re jealous of Frankie? That’s what this is about? Did our last conversation not put shit in perspective for you?”

He steps closer, eyes hard, voice low. “Jealous? Of him?” He scoffs, but the tension in his jaw betrays him. “I just don’t appreciate having to wait because you’re too busy cozying up to someone else. Especially someone who looks like they just got picked up off the side of the road.”

“And you wonder why I don’t like you.” Is all you can say, brushing past him yet again, his presence looming heavy as you head toward the living room where the last scene is set to be shot.

The moment Robbie goes on with his usual pre-shoot rundown, your attention shifts to the newbie Mariella immediately, drowning out his usual spiel.

The girl— and she is a girl, no matter what the paperwork says— looks painfully young. Her cropped tee hugging her braless chest, barely keeping her breasts from spilling out, and those flimsy pajama shorts riding high on her thighs. It’s the kind of outfit that makes you uneasy— one you’ve seen too many times in this industry, designed to play into the fantasies of men who want their women to look barely legal.

You bite the inside of your cheek, the sour taste of frustration building in the back of your throat. This is the part of the job that gnaws at you— the undercurrent of exploitation that no one acknowledges.

You’re not naive, you know exactly what sells in porn. You know what these people want to watch, what they get off on. The younger, the better. 

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier to stomach when you’re standing on set, watching it play out in real time.

Just as Mariella positions herself, preparing for the camera to roll, you can’t stop yourself. The words come out before you can think to censor them. “How old are you?”

Suddenly, everyone’s attention shifts to you. Robbie. Steve. Frankie. Even Javier, who’s lounging in the corner, waiting for his moment to shine. They all freeze, the casual banter dying off as your question lingers in the air. Mariella blinks, looking around as if unsure who you’re even talking to.

“I—I turned twenty last week.”

Your expression hardens, and the disapproval is written all over your face. “She’s not even old enough to drink, and you’re having her fuck Javier?” Your eyes cut to Robbie, who’s staring at you like you’ve just sprouted another head.

The silence stretches for a beat too long before he scoffs, shaking his head like you’re being ridiculous. “I don’t pay you to hear your opinions on shit,” he snaps, clearly irritated. “Just sit there and record the damn thing.”

Your eyes roll hard enough that it almost hurts. “You’re all a bunch of perverts.”

Poor Frankie catches a stray with that one. It’s like everything is grating on you in ways it usually doesn’t. Normally, you can shove it down and keep your head low because, at the end of the day, you’re just here for the paycheck.

“Perverts pay your bills, sweetheart,” Robbie throws back, all nonchalant. What’s worse is that he’s right.

Moments like this make you wonder how long you can keep doing this without losing a part of yourself in the process.

You look around at the other three men, none of them stepping up to say anything in your defense. Useless.

You shouldn’t be surprised, but it stings. Even Javier, usually quick with a sarcastic quip or biting comment, says nothing. He just sits there, stuffing out a cigarette that’s magically appeared between his lips.

It feels like a betrayal, even though you know better than to expect any different.

And Mariella? She’s clearly distracted, caught up in the magnetic pull Javier has over people. The way she’s looking at him with that starstruck, wide-eyed awe only makes it worse. You can see it in her expression, the way her gaze flickers over him like she’s already imagining how it’s going to feel when he fucks her. Thinking with her pussy instead of having common sense.

You recognize it because you were just in her exact position, drawn into that same orbit. You find empathy for her, but not the other motherfuckers.

The room descends into awkward silence, as if everyone’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you’re not in the mood for a full-blown argument, so you shut down, slumping into the chair behind your camera with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. 

You know it’s only a matter of time before all these feelings you’ve been aggressively pushing down come back up and make you snap, but for now, you continue to force it all away.

You’re assigned to shoot the stoic, wide shots while Frankie’s in charge of the close-ups, and honestly? You’re relieved. The last thing you need is to be up close, watching this trash unfold.

The scene starts with the typical, raunchy premise: Dad pays babysitter with his cock! It explains Mariella’s barely-there outfit and the cluttered coffee table with school notebooks, setting the scene.

Then there’s Javier who looks the part too; dressed in dark blue slacks, a typical white collared shirt with a few buttons popped open to give that I’m stressed, come take care of me vibe.

He’s the picture of temptation, and it’s obvious Mariella’s already in the clouds.

The filming begins and they share that cheesy, erotic dialogue and lustful touches. You feel yourself sink further into the chair, silently counting down the minutes until you’re decompressing by the beach.

She sinks to her knees before him, her doe eyes looking up at him with that practiced innocence they all seem to perfect so quickly. She reaches for the buttons on his slacks, her delicate fingers fumbling just a little before she pulls down the zipper and tugs at the waistband. She nuzzles her face against his thigh, brushing her lips against his skin, and finally pulls out his cock. Even soft, it’s still an impressive size— but it’s definitely not how this was supposed to go.

“Well, are you going to suck it or just stare at it?” Javier snaps, his tone cutting through the air with an edge that feels too sharp, too real. It doesn’t sound like the crudeness that’s meant to spice up the scene.

His hand shoots out and tangles in her hair, yanking her closer. He’s rougher than usual, harsher, as he forces her mouth onto him.

She wraps her lips around his head, suckling softly at first, then taking him deeper into her mouth. She’s trying to do her job, playing the part of the eager babysitter, but something’s off.

Javier’s head tilts back, eyes squeezed shut, but it’s not the usual look of pleasure that crosses his face. It’s more like he’s concentrating, forcing himself to feel something that isn’t there.

You can’t help it— your eyes flick around the room, looking at the rest of the crew. No one seems to be noticing what you’re seeing, their eyes all honed in on the action in front of them.

But you’re catching the small details like you always do.

After a few more moments, it’s clear that it’s not happening. Javier lets out a frustrated curse, pulling out of her mouth with an audible, wet pop. “Fuck—just, give me a second,” he grumbles, stepping back. Mariella wipes the saliva from her lips with the back of her hand, looking up at him with a mix of confusion and hesitation.

You take that as your cue. Reaching over, you stop the recording, your finger hesitating on the button for only a moment before pressing it. Frankie does the same, Steve lowers his mic and pulls his headset off.

Javier runs a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the floor, like he’s trying to avoid looking at anyone directly. “I just need a minute,” he says again, but it’s more to himself than to anyone else.

Your gaze lingers on him for a second longer than you intend, and your mind flashes back to earlier, to the way he was with you. The memory is sharp and clear, the contrast striking. He’d come undone for you without hesitation, without needing any coaxing or forcing. Just words. But now, with Mariella kneeling in front of him, offering herself up like a gift, he’s struggling. 

“How long will this minute take? We gotta be outta here soon so get it up before I get one of these two to take your place.”

Javier scoffs, dismissive, “Tape wouldn’t fucking sell.”

“Well one featuring a soft dick won’t either,” comes the retort, and the two of them start their back-and-forth bickering.

You rub at your temples, trying to ease the pressure building behind your eyes. This has to be some weird-ass dream; it sure as hell feels like it. Maybe you’re still in bed, blissfully sleeping until three in the afternoon.

Javier storms off and Steve puts his equipment down. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Robbie just waves him away. “Take five,” he mutters to the rest of you, going in the opposite direction. This is such a mess, and poor Mariella remains on her knees, picking at her cuticles. 

“Please get up and sit on the couch. You look pathetic,” you say to her, not cruelly but bluntly. It’s not her fault, but the sight of her there is making you itch. She complies like a chastised child. 

Frankie drops down beside you, letting out a breath that mirrors your own. “These things usually go like this?” He takes his hat off, ruffling his hair before putting it back on.

“No,” shit has just been weird amongst this group for weeks now. “Burnout is inevitable, I guess.” You’re not about to sit there and shit-talk Javier, despite everything. You might have a mountain of complicated feelings when it comes to him, but you won’t kick him while he’s down.

Before Frankie can respond, Robbie comes barreling back into the room, his face flushed with anger. His eyes lock onto you, and you can see the accusation in them before he even opens his mouth.

“This is your fault,” he spits out, voice sharp, acidic. “All that shit you were talking earlier— now he’s fucking broken.”

You narrow your eyes, standing your ground. “Excuse me?” you snap, incredulous. “I was making a valid point. How the hell is it my fault that he grew a conscience?”

“Y’know,” he starts, his words dripping with the kind of vile, misogynistic shit that makes your blood boil. “You’d do me more good in front of the camera. Have somethin’ shoved up in there to keep you fucking quiet.”

The reaction is immediate. You shoot up from your seat so fast the chair scrapes against the floor, the sound sharp and angry, mirroring how you feel. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Frankie stands too, his face hardening as he takes a step in front of you, finally coming to your defense. “Watch it,”  he warns, and it feels like the whole situation could explode into something much worse.

Robbie, of course, just sneers “What? You gonna defend her? She’s been a pain in my ass for weeks—”

“I’m done.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think them through, but they feel right.��

You’re tired— so damn tired— of this whole mess. Of dealing with assholes like Robbie and Javier who think they can get away with saying whatever they want. “I quit.” 

Your boss’s mouth opens as if he’s about to say something else, but you cut him off with a cutting glare. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you treat me like shit because your precious Javier can’t get his dick hard. Go fuck yourself, Robbie.”

You don’t wait for a response. You turn on your heel and head for the door, your heart pounding in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’ll double up on shifts at the bar or go back to waiting tables like you did throughout college. Whatever keeps you away from this bullshit. 

As you stride down the hallway toward the entrance, you pass Javier and Steve. Javier’s face is stormy, brows knitted together as if he’s still reeling from whatever heated discussion they just had. 

The moment he spots you, his expression shifts. There’s a flicker of surprise, maybe even concern.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks.

You yank the heavy, probably expensive for no reason, front door open, the sound echoing through the hallway. “I just quit,” you snap, voice sharp as glass. “See you never.”

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @libre-sol . @cherrysugarx . @goodvibesonly421 .

finally started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out. muchas gracias mis putitas (gn) (endearingly) 🖤

[birdyshewrote]

“Like an Animal”

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

written by birdy

Note- I’m tired of nobody playing into the mutant or animalistic side of him as much as I want them to. pls enjoy u freaks 😇

warnings/tags- 18+, Animal!Logan, he’s nasty, strong language, he eats you out like an animal okay? That’s the whole plot.

PLEASE SEND ME LOGAN IDEAS ! Mean!Logan, Soft!Logan, I like it all. give me ideas. also feedback appreciated !

——————————————————————————

Being a mutant leads to heightened senses. You’ve seen this first hand in Logan.

The second you start ovulating, he is all over you. Laying in bed on your phone, he’s watching you from the door way. He’s shirtless, wearing dark blue jeans. His dog tags lay across his broad chest, rising up and down as he breathes.

“Logan? You okay?” You ask, looking up from your phone. He says nothing, instead stepping towards you.. slowly. You frown, sitting up slightly.

“Lo?”

When close enough, he quickly jumps up on the bed, pouncing on you like a cat playing with a mouse.

You wheeze under the sudden weight of his body, all 300 pounds. He pins your arms to your sides using his muscular legs, sticking his face and nose into the deep crook of your neck. He inhales deeply, like he hasn’t been able to take a full breath in years.

“Can smell you..” He groans against your ear.

“Lo!” You exasperate, smiling at the sudden attention. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Could fuckin’ smell you from across the hall.” He smells you again, inhaling your pheromones. He starts smelling all of you in quick, jagged breaths. Your hair, your neck, your chest, your face.

You squirm, his breath tickling your skin. His stubble and facial hair gently scrapes against your soft neck. His own scent was intoxicating, that of leather and cigar smoke. A hint of alcohol lingered on his breath, along with his usual musk and light sweat. You knew there was no chance in getting him off of you unless he wanted to, but you try anyway. You grunt, shaking your shoulders in your best attempt to get the beast of a man off of your body.

He doesn’t budge.

“Where d’you think you’re goin’, girl? Hm?” You feel him smile against your neck as he speaks. “Tryna run away from me?”

The sound of his voice trickles into your ears and sends vibrations to the back of your throat. The warmth and weight of his body mixed with the feeling of his breath and the roughness of his face on your neck makes you weak. You know the power he has over you, and so does he. The familiar throbbing that you know so well rises in your stomach and down into your shorts. You shut your legs and clench your thighs to try and relieve the building tension.

Logan’s head rises up from out of your hair and looks down at your face. He can smell your arousal, and you see it in his eyes. His brows furrow, his breath heavy now, panting. He looks at you hungrily. The look in his eyes is like nothing you’ve seen before, and it makes you nervous, like you’re a piece of meat and he’s a starved animal.

“Logan..” You say cautiously. He scans your face as if he’s trying to regain some control over his own mind, his own movements. “Logan.” You say again, this time more direct. He blinks, his pupils steady again. “What is happening right now with you?”

He looks at your eyes. Then your lips. Then your chest. Then back up to your eyes.

“Need to taste you. Right now.”

Your eyes widen at the sudden bluntness, but you’re quickly distracted by a rough hand gripping the side of your waist. You swallow, inches from his face. You feel his warm, shaky breath on your face as he stares down at you with large, pleading yet demanding eyes.

“Need it now.” He repeats, more frantic this time, like if he doesn’t make a move on you you’ll get away. “Gonna give ya what you need, don’ worry baby, I know what y’need.”

He closes that last inch of space and connects his mouth with yours, kissing you slowly. His breath gets heavier, his nose and face mashing into yours as the kiss gets sloppier and lazier. He indistinctively let’s out faint groans and whines from his chest and back out his throat into your mouth. He’s lapping at your tongue now, like your mouth is the fountain of youth.

He paws at your waist, bringing his huge, veiny hand up your side and under your loose top. He cups a breast in his hand, to which he grabs greedily. He couldn’t get enough of your body, and if you weren’t soaking before, you definitely are now. He bites your bottom lip with his sharp canine, gently at first, but once he starts he couldn’t stop. He bites your tongue a few times, kissing you and pushing his face farther into your space. He quickly pulls his face away from yours, looking down at you with half lidded, crazed eyes. He brushes some hair out of your face with his free hand, looking down at your puffy, wet lips.

“You’re so beautiful, y’know that? So beautiful.” His voice is low, you’re the only one he’s speaking too. The only one that needs to hear his voice. “So beautiful for me, all for me. Right sweetheart?”

You nod, quickly licking your raw lip and swallowing.

He kisses you again. Any politeness is gone now. He moves his mouth from your face to your cheek. He trails sloppy, hot kisses down your jaw to your neck. He bites and licks at the top of your ear, then back down to your collarbone. He moves his body down the bed, gently nipping at your collarbone, leaving red marks that will soon turn to hickeys. He brings his head up to look at his doing, clearly marking his territory. His warm face is back on your chest in a heart beat though, his other hand finding it’s way to your second breast. He focuses on perfecting the marks on your chest for a moment, then looks again. You writher under his touch, moving your legs together. Once he’s satisfied with his markings, he lifts your shirt up, letting it bunch at your neck before gently biting at your nipple, pinching the other with his hand. He licks and licks, tasting your skin and smelling you.

“Lo.” You whine.

You feel him smile against your skin before laying one more kiss on your tit, then sits up. He looks down at you once again. Your chest exposed to him. You’re all blushed and red, bruised, hot and bothered. He did this to you.

“I know, I know Bub. I cant wait either.”

He slides off the side of the furniture, ignoring his own painful erection and kneels on the carpeted floor at the foot of the bed. He grabs your closed thighs, hoists them up and effortlessly pulls you closer to him.

“Take these off for me, Baby.” He hooks a finger under your silk shorts.

You look at him, your face flushed, heart thumping.

He’s too impatient, he can’t wait any longer. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re already goin’ dumb for me. Haven’t even touched you yet.” He teases as he quickly pulls down your shorts to your ankles, tossing them out of sight.

He sighs through his mouth when he sees your leaking panties, all wet and glistening for him.

“Open up.” He sighs, putting his calloused hands on your knees. When you don’t move, he brings a hand to your thigh and pries you open with ease.

“God..” He groans under his breath. Feeling exposed, you try to shut your legs, but he sternly keeps you open for his access. He dips his head below your knees, and without warning inhales with his nose at the top of your clothed slit.

You gasp, embarrassed, and try to push his head away, but to absolutely no avail. Instead, he sticks out his tongue and gently presses it against your clit. Your embarrassment fades as it’s overwhelmed with sudden pleasure. It’s not nearly enough for anything, but at least it’s something. You let out a quick moan, which he pays no attention too. This wasn’t to make you feel good, this was because he needed to taste you.

He licks at you through the thin layer of fabric, holding your thighs down into the mattress with his large hands. He slowly rubs his fingers into your soft skin, soothing you, simply so you’d hopefully stop squirming. His breath is hot against your drenched panties. He grinds his own bulge against the foot of the bed while dragging a finger up your thigh. It travels to the top of your panties, then pulls them down your legs, around your ankles, and forgotten on the floor. He looks at you now, completely exposed to him. Again, you try to avoid his gaze by covering yourself with your hand, but he swats it away.

“Quit.” He snaps, like you’re preventing him from his work.

He brings his middle finger down from your thigh to your slit, just gently tracing it, trying to remember every curve and detail in your delicate space. You look away, shutting your eyes. He slowly slips his finger in, only to the second knuckle. You groan, your back arching to the little contact. He watches you tighten around his digit, your slick acting as natural lubricant. Your juices coating his finger.

“Mm, look at that baby. You’re already doing s’good. Already ready f’me, aren’t you? Such a dirty girl..”

He keeps himself inside of you for a moment, listening to you whine and watching you twitch around his knuckle. He slowly removes himself from your pussy and into his mouth, licking his finger clean, letting none of your arousal go to waste.

When he himself can’t take it anymore, he lowers his head once more in between your legs. He tries to be slow, but can’t stop himself from lapping and lapping at you like a thirsty dog. His licks are undirected, not aiming anywhere specific, just trying to taste as much as you as he possibly can. He moans against your cunt, sending vibrations through your core. He suckles at your pussy, his nose hitting your clit and his facial hair scraping against your folds perfectly. Lapping and lapping and licking and more licking, never once slowing down, never once coming up for air. Instead he breathes through it all, every inhale making him harder and harder in his denim jeans. He licks your entrance. He shoves his hot, wet tongue in and out of you, over and over again.

Once he calms himself down, he directs his licking to your clit, a little more concentrated but still wild. He slowly brings a hand up, holding a finger to your leaking entrance. Barely any pressure is used when his finger easily slips into your pussy, gripping and tightening once more. Once fully adjusted, he slowly pumps in and out of you while wildly lapping at your throbbing clit.

“Logan.” You moan uncontrollably. The noises coming from your mouth are not voluntary. You bring your arms up from your sides and latch onto the black tufts of hair on his head, pulling. He lets out a groan against your cunt when you pull his hair, and this almost sets you over the edge, but not yet.

He inserts a second finger, curling upwards, hitting that sweet spot so perfectly you begin to see stars. Your sweet mouth hangs open and your eyes water, huffing, trying to control your breathing.

“S’good f’me.” He mutters against you. “Doin’ s’good f’me. You gonna cum baby? Gonna make a mess on my face? Hm?”

Your toes begin to curl as Logan keeps your legs open for himself. When he looks up, he locks eyes with you. His eyebrows are furrowed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, watching your face.

“So good sweetheart, jus’ like that. Justa little bit more baby.”

He shuts up when he notices your legs sputtering, and starts eating you again. He nips at your sensitive bud once or twice, making you jolt in response. His fingers quicken, in and out, in and out. Then, the knot grew tighter and tighter. You tap his head with your hand as a warning, letting out soft “Ah- Ah”s.

You throw your head back and curl your toes tightly. Your eyes roll to the back of you head. Logan continues licking and deeply fingering you through your orgasm, moaning “Mhm, mhm,” against you as light encouragement.

He keeps licking every drop of juices that you’d let out until you’re a twitchy, sputtering mess. He lifts his head from your clit to mutter sweet nothings, slowing his fingers around your sputtering hole.

“Fuck, so fucking beautiful. You know that, baby? Did so good f’me. God.”

He gently pulls his fingers out of you, and slowly closes your legs for you to give them a break from the unnatural pose. He licks his fingers as he climbs into bed. Logan hooks his hands under your arms and quickly pulls you up into his chest. He brushes your hair out of the way and lays gentle kisses on your forehead as he rubs his hand up and down your arm.

“Feel good Kid?” He asks you, to which you nod.

You completely relax into his body as the two of you lay in bed. He reaches over to the nightstand and lights a cigar, taking a quick puff before smiling. He sniffs the top of your head again, covering his nose with your messy hair.

“You smell really good.”