#Hand cramps for me now i guess | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chuluoyi · 5 months ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”

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strawbuddy-luv · 4 months ago

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Trans Tim off handedly mentioning random things that just confuse people more and more because he never told them he was trans (only Bruce and Alfred know)

Tim: "For the mission I'm thinking I'll go undercover, but it'll take some work to hide the bruises I got earlier. They're everywhere"

Dick: "Oh I think Steph is free right now!"

Tim: "...Ok?"

Dick: "Don't worry I'm sure she'll help you out with this! "

Tim: "That's awesome but I don't think I'll need help. I know how to use makeup."

Dick: "Really-? Ohhh, yeah your public image is like, way more public than ours. That must be tiring, having to hide the bruises all the time."

Tim: "Well yeah but I knew how to use makeup before that. For like, galas as a kid and stuff"

Dick: "...yeah..."

-----

Steph: -Complaining about a man- "And then he said "Oh you should smile more" like "you look like you don't want to be here" like what- what the fuck-??? Maybe I fucking don't dude."

Tim: "Oh yeah I hate when they do that. Like you've spent the entire time bitching about the consistency of snails, I can close my mouth for a few seconds."

Steph: "..."

Tim: "...What-?"

Steph: "Well- I mean yeah but- you know I have to deal with it like...way more, and it's just a bit weird that like, you as a guy are, I dunno, trying to relate? I mean you don't have to deal with it litreally everyday"

Tim: "Well yeah not anymore, but, you know...I still did."

Steph: :...What-"

-----

Tim: -Resting against one of the rooftop ledges-

Jason: "Woah, I can't believe it, Red Robin, slacking. What would Bruce do if he saw this!"

Tim: "Fuck off, it's just period cramps." -Jumps off the edge of the building-

Jason: "Yeah whatever Timblina...

Your fucking what-"

-----

Bruce: "And for this mission, we'll be needing someone for the Caroline disguise, but we already know who that is so-"

Dick: "Wait does Steph actually know how to fight in heels-??"

Bruce: "...N-"

Steph: "Yeah Bruce, I mean, you could at least actually ask me before volunteering me to go fight crime in that dress."

Bruce: "You-"

Jason: "I mean no offense, but literally who else would do it? Cass isn't here right now and I don't think any of us are willing to get a boob job for the mission"

Bruce: "No one's getting a boob job-"

Steph: "Yeah! This is bat tech, Bruce probably has ultra realistic titties in everyone's color and size! Jason you wouldn't even need an attachment."

Jason: "I don't think Caroline Hills has fifty gun shot wounds and muscles the size of most those guys heads."

Steph: "Yeah bu-"

Bruce: "None of that will be necessary because none of you" -Pointing at the right side of the table- "Will be going. No one at this table will be needing any prosthetics...Or boob jobs."

Steph: "...Ok but who the fuck is going then-"

Bruce: "Tim."

The entire table: "..."

Steph: "Tim are you really willing to put on boobs for this-"

Dick: "I don't think that's the best idea-"

Jason: "You just said no prosthetics- Oh this'll be fucking rich"

Tim: "...

I...wouldn't need a boob job?? Or prosthetics?"

Jason: "Timbo, that dress is a pretty low cut, and, no offense, your training hasn't given you that many enhancements."

Tim: "...Thank you for the binding compliment?"

Dick: "The what-"

Tim: "Guys I- I already have boobs-"

The Table: "..."

Steph: "WHAT-"

Dick: "You do-?!"

Jason: "Bruce if you made Tim get boobs for some weird mission-"

Tim: "What- No! No one made me get boobs??? Besides, I don't know, biology I guess??? Genetics maybe???"

Dick: "...I'm extremely confused"

Steph: "WHO GAVE YOU BOOBS-???"

Tim: "I'm not really sure seeing as I was born with them"

Dick: "...

OHHHHHH-"

Steph: "What- is this like a birth defect or something???"

Dick: "Tim- Tim I think you're just gonna have to-"

Tim: "I'm trans."

Jason: "...That's-

Yeah

Ok yeah no that- that explains...a lot."

Steph: "..." -Head in hands- "I am such a fucking idiot"

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brunchable · 3 months ago

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Don't Look at Me Like That [18+]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader. Summary: You get stuck in an awkward position in a very tight space and Bucky's dick decides it's a good time to get hard. Themes/Warning: Comedy Smut, forced proximity. Oral sex - Male Receiving. Guided Deep throating. A/N: Hah......to have your throat ruined by bucky ;_;

@classicrebound can you guess what inspired this? LOL

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Bucky groaned as the door of the janitor’s closet clicked shut, trapping the two of you inside.

The Avengers’ compound was massive—thousands of square feet of pristine, state-of-the-art design, but you and Bucky had somehow found yourselves stuck in the one claustrophobic, cramped janitor’s closet with a broken door handle.

“Move your stupid foot,” you muttered, glaring up at him.

“I can’t move anywhere, doll. There’s no room,” he snapped back, looking like he was trying very hard not to elbow you in the face as he shifted.

He wasn’t lying. There was barely enough space for one person, let alone two. Your shoulders were pressed against shelves full of cleaning supplies, and your knees were almost touching the floor, awkwardly bent as you knelt in front of Bucky.

“Why didn’t you wait until I finished grabbing the damn broom?” he complained, glowering down at you.

“Because I needed it!” You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “You were taking forever, and— Look, I’m sorry, okay? Just… help me up.”

Bucky tried shifting again, but with the tight space and the way your body was jammed into the corner, it was impossible. “You’re wedged in there like a sardine. I’m gonna have to—”

“Just move!” you snapped, tugging at his belt for leverage.

The sudden force made him stumble forward. You yelped as his hips knocked into you, and you lost your balance, falling forward—right into the worst possible position imaginable.

“Whoa—! What the hell?” Bucky’s voice came out in a strangled yelp as you braced yourself on his thighs, your face now directly level with his crotch. You looked up at him, scowling.

“I swear, Barnes, if you don’t—”

But the words died on your lips when you met his gaze. His chest heaved with the effort of keeping his balance, and his hands hovered uncertainty in the air as if he didn’t know what to do with them. The tension in his face slowly turned into something else as he looked down at you.

You blinked up at him, your annoyance fading as his expression shifted. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel the air change between you—growing thicker, heavier.

“Bucky…?” you asked, voice softening as you looked up at him, noticing his breathing had gone ragged.

He swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat working visibly.

“Doll,” he managed to croak out, his voice strained.

“What?” You frowned, looking at him in confusion.

“I—” He glanced down at you, his gaze darting to your lips before flicking back to your eyes. His nostrils flared, and he shifted awkwardly. “You… gotta stop looking at me like that.”

You furrowed your brow. “Like what?”

“Like—” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before looking down at you again, his cheeks flushed. “Like you’re about to… you know.”

Your eyes widened, and it took a second for his words to register.

“Wait… What?! I’m not—!” You pulled back slightly, trying to put distance between you, but it only made things worse.

Because that’s when you noticed it. The growing, unmistakable bulge in his jeans, right in front of your face.

“Oh my God, Bucky,” you gasped, your voice a mix of shock and disbelief. “Are you— Are you getting hard right now?!”

His face flushed crimson. “I— No! I mean— I don’t know! You’re the one kneeling in front of me like— like—”

“Like what, Barnes?” you demanded, eyes narrowing. “Like I’m about to— Oh my God!”

You threw your hands up in frustration, accidentally brushing against his thighs in the process. His breath hitched, and you pulled your hands back like you’d been burned.

“Stop it!”

“I’m trying!” he hissed back, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “You’re making it worse, dammit!”

“What do you mean I’m making it worse?” you snapped, staring up at him in disbelief. “You’re the one getting turned on in a janitor’s closet!”

“I’m not doing it on purpose!” he growled, his hands flexing at his sides. “You keep looking up at me like that, and I— I don’t know, okay? It just— happens!”

“Stop saying it happens!” you squeaked, your face heating up as you looked at the bulge right in front of you. “Just— make it go away!”

“I can’t!” Bucky barked, his eyes wild with frustration. “I’m not a damn magician!”

“Then just think of something!” you snapped, voice rising. “Think of— of— I don’t know, dead puppies or—”

“That’s not helping!” he yelled, his voice cracking in a way that would have been hilarious if it weren’t for the very real problem growing in front of you.

“Then stop thinking about me!” you shouted back, your voice a panicked whisper.

“You think I’m doing this on purpose?” His eyes narrowed, his gaze dark and dangerous. “I can’t stop it, okay? It’s a reflex!”

“Reflex?!” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “What kind of reflex?”

“The kind that happens when someone’s looking up at you like they’re about to—” He cut himself off with a groan, rubbing a hand over his face. “God, this is the worst.”

“I’m not looking at you like that!” you protested, shaking your head furiously. “I’m looking at you like you’re a goddamn idiot!”

“Well, your face is saying something else!” he shot back.

“What’s it saying?” you demanded.

“Like you’re about to— I don’t know—” He faltered, his eyes darting down to your lips and then back up. “Like you want to—”

“Oh my God, stop it!” You covered your face with your hands, utterly mortified. “Just— Stop getting turned on, okay?!”

“I’m not trying to!” he groaned, dropping his head back against the wall. “Christ, do you think I want to be stuck in a closet with a hard-on right now?”

“Then do something about it!” you yelled, glaring up at him.

“I can’t just tell it to go away!” he yelled back.

“Then tell yourself to go away!” you shouted.

“Where the hell am I gonna go, Y/N?!” he yelled back, throwing his hands up. “We’re stuck in a goddamn closet!”

The two of you fell silent, glaring at each other. Bucky was breathing hard, his chest heaving with every breath, and you were trying very hard not to look at the problem that was still very much in your line of sight.

“This is insane,” you finally muttered, shaking your head. “Just— take deep breaths or something. Think. . .Think of Steve in a Speedo!”

Bucky made a face. “Why would I think of Steve in a Speedo?”

“Because it’ll kill the mood!” you shot back. “Just do it!”

Bucky sighed heavily but nodded. He closed his eyes, muttering to himself as he took slow, deep breaths. “Steve… in a Speedo… Steve… in a Speedo…”

You waited, watching his face closely. After a few long moments, his shoulders relaxed slightly, and his breathing steadied. He opened one eye and glanced down at you.

“Better?” you asked cautiously.

“Yeah.” He let out a long, relieved breath. “Better.”

“Good.” You nodded. “Great. So, can we get out of here now?”

“I’ll try the door again,” he muttered, reaching for the handle. But when he moved, he shifted just slightly forward—and the bulge that was supposed to be gone brushed against your shoulder.

You froze.

Bucky’s eyes flew open.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” you shrieked. “Bucky, stop it!”

“I can’t!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the tiny closet.

“Why can’t you just—”

“I don’t know! You’re the one who’s all— all down there, and—”

“Stop saying I’m down here like I’m doing something else!” you screamed back, face burning. “Just— I don’t know— stop thinking about my face!”

“I’m trying!” he yelled back. “But you keep looking up at me like—”

“Like what?!” you demanded. “Like I want to blow you or something?!”

“Yes!” he shouted, then slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes widening in horror.

The closet fell silent.

You stared up at him, mouth hanging open in shock. “Bucky… did you just—”

“I didn’t mean—!” he spluttered, turning even redder. “I mean— I just— Oh God—”

“Oh my God, this is— This is the worst,” you whispered, covering your face with your hands again. “This is literally the worst.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, sounding utterly miserable. “It really is.”

The two of you sat there in stunned silence, the reality of the situation sinking in. Bucky was still very much hard, you were still very much kneeling, and neither of you could move an inch.

“…So, how long do you think it’s gonna take for this to… y’know… go away?” you asked hesitantly, still crouched awkwardly on your knees. You shifted a little, trying to get comfortable, but every slight movement made your face closer to the obvious problem in Bucky’s jeans.

“I don’t know, okay?” Bucky muttered, his voice dripping with frustration. “Just… don’t look at it.”

“Look at what?” you asked innocently.

“My… my—DICK.” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a second as if to gather his composure. “Just… stop looking at my dick!”

You blinked up at him, eyes wide with feigned confusion. “I’m not looking at anything.”

“Yes, you are!” Bucky hissed, gesturing at his crotch. “You’re staring right at it, doll. I can feel your eyes on me.”

You glanced at the bulge again and then back up to his flushed face.

“Oh, this?” you asked, pointing at it like it was a random spot on his jeans. “Sorry. Didn’t realise I was staring.”

“Y/N…” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

“What?” You shrugged, doing your best to keep a straight face. “It’s kind of hard to not notice, y’know?”

“Just—” Bucky exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose with his metal fingers. “Just stop. Stop looking at the dick. Stop talking about it. Just… stop it.”

“Fine, fine.” You nodded and turned your head away, doing your best to ignore his predicament. But after a few seconds of awkward silence, your eyes involuntarily drifted back.

And there it was—still very much… present.

“Y/N!” Bucky growled, his voice strained. “Stop looking at it!”

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, throwing your hands up in a helpless gesture. “It’s just— it’s right there, and it’s not going away!”

“Well, you’re not helping by staring!” he snapped, his voice a mix of irritation and something else—something that sounded suspiciously like desperation.

“Okay, well, maybe…” You hesitated, biting your lip as you considered your options. This was already the most awkward situation you’d ever been in, but if it wasn’t going away…

“Maybe what?” Bucky demanded, narrowing his eyes at you suspiciously. “Don’t even—”

“Maybe I should just…” You waved your hand in a vague motion, indicating the space in front of you. “Y’know… help or something?”

Bucky’s entire body went rigid.

“Help?” he repeated slowly, his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, feeling a wicked smile tug at the corners of your lips. “Yeah… I mean, it’s not going away, right? So maybe if I just—”

“And what?!” Bucky interrupted, looking both horrified and intrigued. “What are you saying, Y/N?”

“And maybe if I…” You pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek suggestively, your eyes dropping down to the bulge again. You heard Bucky’s breath hitch, and you had to suppress a grin as his gaze darkened.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice a low growl. “Don’t you dare.”

You tilted your head, looking up at him through your lashes. “What? I’m just trying to help. You said you couldn’t get rid of it, so…”

“So what?!” Bucky’s voice was almost hysterical now, and he shifted on his feet still not knowing what to do with his hands. “You think— You think you can just—”

“I mean…” You leaned in slightly, your cheek brushing against his thigh as you moved closer, your lips dangerously close to the outline of his jeans. “If it’ll get us out of here faster…”

“Y/N, don’t.” Bucky’s voice was strained, his hands coming up to hover uncertainty in the air as if he wanted to push you away but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. “I’m serious. This isn’t—”

“Isn’t what?” You raised an eyebrow, pressing your tongue against your cheek again in that infuriatingly suggestive way. “What do you want me to do, Bucky?”

“Not that!” he blurted out, his voice cracking slightly. “Just— Jesus, Y/N—”

“What?” You tilted your head, batting your lashes up at him. “It’s not going away on its own. And you said it’s my fault, right?”

Bucky groaned, his head dropping back against the wall with a soft thunk. “You’re gonna drive me insane, you know that?”

You bit back a laugh.

“So, should I…?” You trailed off, your eyes flicking pointedly to his crotch again.

“No,” he growled, his jaw clenching.

“Just trying to be helpful,” you murmured, smirking up at him.

“Helpful, my ass,” he muttered, but his gaze dropped to your lips, and his expression softened for just a split second.

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into a mischievous smile. “You sure you don’t want my help, Sergeant?”

His breath hitched again, and for a second, you thought he might actually say yes. But then he shook his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut.

“No,” he muttered, his voice rough. “No, I— We’re not doing this. Not here.”

You sighed dramatically, sitting back on your heels. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

Bucky let out a long, shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thank you.”

“But you know…” You leaned in again, your breath ghosting over the front of his jeans as you looked up at him with a wicked grin. “If you change your mind—”

“Y/N!” he groaned, his voice breaking. “I swear to God, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” You grinned, thoroughly enjoying his torment. “Push me away?”

“I—” He faltered, his gaze darting down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “I—”

“Didn’t think so,” you murmured, pressing your tongue against your cheek one last time. He let out a tortured groan, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“You’re evil,” Bucky muttered, his voice low and rough.

“And you’re still hard,” you teased, eyes drifting down to the very obvious bulge in his jeans.

“Yeah, well, whose fault is that?” he shot back, his voice strained, his gaze boring down at you.

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Guess you’ll just have to suffer, then.”

Bucky let out a long, tortured breath, his head falling back against the wall. His shoulders heaved as he struggled to keep himself under control. It was endearing, really—seeing the big, bad Winter Soldier at a loss for words, his composure unravelling inch by inch.

“I— I mean it, Y/N.” His voice was a mix of a plea and a warning now, and you felt a rush of satisfaction ripple through you. “Don’t… don’t mess with me like this.”

“Mess with you?” you murmured softly, leaning closer, the space between you narrowing. “Who said I was messing with you?”

He stilled, his jaw clenching as you brushed your cheek against the front of his jeans. You heard him suck in a breath, and when you tilted your head up to look at him, you saw the raw, unfiltered desire in his eyes.

“Doll…” He swallowed hard, his voice coming out rough and gravelly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, lips curving into a slow, wicked smile. “Like I’m about to do this?”

Before he could fake his protest, you reached up, your fingers lightly tracing the outline of his length firmly through his jeans. Bucky let out a low groan, his hips jerking at the contact.

“Shit,” he hissed, his head falling back against the wall.

You hummed softly, applying more grip to the fabric. He was so thick and hard beneath the denim, and the heat of him seared through the fabric. You ran your thumb along his length, pressing against the tip slightly, and Bucky let out a ragged moan, his hips twitching again.

“Want more, Sergeant?” you murmured, looking up at him through your lashes. “Want me to touch you properly?”

“Jesus—Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his voice breathless, “Just do it.”

With your deft fingers you unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans, pulling down freeing him from the constraint of his clothing. He sprang free, thick and hard, the tip flushed and glistening. You wrapped your hand around him, though your hand couldn’t fully envelope him.

“God, you’re big,” you murmured softly, giving a slow stroke from base to tip. Bucky shuddered, a low, needy moan escaping his lips.

“Doll, I—” His voice was rough and breathless, his hands hovering at his sides, watching you. “Just like that. Nice and slow. I want to feel every inch of your hand.”

“Yeah? Does it feel good?” you murmured, gripping him with your other hand. You ran your thumb over the sensitive head, smearing the precum that had gathered there, and Bucky let out a ragged groan, his hips bucking involuntarily.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, his hand sliding down to your chin, tilting your head up further. “Look up at me, doll. Want to see those eyes on me while you make me feel so fucking good.”

You stared up at him, your gaze locking onto his as your hands continued to pump his hardened length, your hand slick with precum as you moved faster, firmer. Bucky let out a choked moan, his hips thrusting into your grip as he lost himself in the sensation.

“Like that, Sergeant?” you asked softly, twisting your wrist at the end of each stroke. “You can’t even fit in my hands.”

“God, yes—” he muttered, “Your hand feels so fucking good. But you know what I really want?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips parting slightly as you looked up at him. “What’s that, Sergeant?”

“I wanna feel that mouth on me,” He murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip before gently pressing it into your mouth, your eyes locked with his as you slowly wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking it seductively, “I want to come into your mouth and you swallow every drop of me.”

“Mhm, yes please.” You moaned softly, your breath hitching as his words sent a rush of heat straight to your core, making you undeniably wet under your skirt.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower. “You like that, huh? Like the idea of me using that pretty mouth? You gonna let me fuck that throat until it hurts, doll?”

“Hmm…” You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of him before pulling back, your gaze never leaving his. “Yes can you fuck my mouth good, Sergeant?”

“Holy shit—”

You leaned forward again, your lips brushing against his tip as you gave him a slow, teasing lick. Bucky’s hips jerked involuntarily again, as he was not expecting this, accidentally forcing his cock further into your mouth. You just smiled around him and worked on the head of his cock, the tip of your tongue tracing the grooves of the head of his penis. You slurped your way to the tip and suckled on the head for a minute, keeping him in your mouth as you nursed on it. You worked your way down to his balls, and took one and then the other in your mouth, and started the whole thing again.

You weren't even sucking him and he felt like he was about to scream.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, his voice strained. “Just like that…”

You took your time with him, lavishing attention on his tip with soft licks and teasing strokes of your tongue. Every time you flicked your tongue over that sensitive spot just beneath the head, Bucky let out a low, desperate sound, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself back.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. “More… need more…”

You wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking gently as your hand continued to stroke his length. Bucky let out a choked moan, his fingers twitching in the air as if he was fighting the urge to grab you.

“God, you’re so fucking good at this,” he muttered, his head falling back against the wall. “. . . you’re gonna make me lose it—”

You glanced up at him, your eyes locking onto his as you slowly took him deeper into your mouth, your lips stretching around him. Your jaw widened and you pressed forward, letting him slide along your tongue. When Bucky hits the top of your throat, you paused.

His fingers itched to take the back of your head and shove his way inside, but he let you do this. You knew what he wanted, and he needed to see how far you would go to give it to him. You widen your thighs, changing the angle, and relax your throat muscles enough for him to slip in.

“That’s it,” Bucky crooned. “I will let you breathe in a moment. Eyes on me, baby.”

Your wide, almost panicked gaze met his and he saw the fear and determination. It made his dick pulse, and he gave a short thrust of his hips to tunnel deeper. You worked together for a few seconds until he was fully inside, exactly where he wanted to stay.

“Relax,” Bucky instructed. “Don’t pull off.”

Tears gathered and spilled over your lashes, the most beautiful sight Bucky’s ever seen. His cock filled your mouth and throat, your lips pressed to his pelvic bone.

“Swallow, Y/N.”

Your throat muscles worked, squeezing him, and he gasped. “Oh fuck,” He moaned, pulling back so you could take in air.

After a few seconds, he lifted a brow in question, asking silently if you were ready, and you nodded once. This time Bucky didn’t wait, unable to keep from grasping your head and ramming his cock in your throat. When he was as deep as he could go, he held there, loving the way you looked on your knees, suffering to make him feel good.

Bucky could feel the orgasm building, his balls growing tight and heavy, the need to empty his seed in your mouth. You saw it in his face, swallowing twice, then again, trying to force his come from his body, and the idea of it was so hot that he began roughly fucking your mouth.

Every third or fourth stroke went in your throat, and he was like a man possessed. It was so much better than he imagines, your sweet tongue rubbing the underside while your lips pulled to give him suction. Like you couldn’t wait to drink him down.

You let him set the pace, your eyes locked onto him as his movements become more erratic and desperate. His cock was sliding in and out of your mouth like an oiled piston, and the suction noises you created were squelching into the room. You held yourself steady, hands holding onto Bucky’s ass, while his hips moved faster, his grip tightening as he chased his release. His mouth hang open while ragged gasps escape past his lips and his moans filled the tiny closet, raw and needy and desperate.

“I am going to shoot all over your mouth,” Bucky panted.

You moaned in your throat as if you liked the idea, and the sound vibrated along his shaft. The thin threads of his self-control snapped and his balls sizzled with the impending orgasm. Pulling out of your mouth, Bucky fisted his cock as he aimed his spurting cock into your waiting mouth, thick jets erupted in pulses, his come pooling at the back of your mouth, coating your lips and chin. You sat patiently, taking it, letting him paint you with his release, and Bucky snarled in satisfaction, wishing he could drown you more in his come. When he finished it dripped off your chin and onto the floor.

“Fuck,” Bucky said, slumping against the wall. “I wish I could keep you like this. Just like this, baby. At my feet, covered in my come.”

Swallowing, you grinned, you licked your lips, tasting the thick mess. “Yum.”

Wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb as you sit back on your heels. "Glad I could help, Sergeant," you murmured, your voice soft and teasing as you licked your lips, making sure to savour every last drop.

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acid-ixx · 16 days ago

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— related post !

socialite! (secret himbo/bimbo) reader who takes one look at bruce wayne in a gala and you decide you'll use your (dumbass) alluring charms on the man to spend a night with him and it ends up successful. you had the best bed-breaking sex in your life, never once questioning all the taut muscle underneath his polished thousand-dollar suit; now crumpled by how handsy you were taking off his clothes. he was great with aftercare, too, carrying you off to one of his luxury bathtubs to bathe you and leave even more marks on the expanse of your back whilst massaging your naked body (you didn't even think for a second at the romantic implications his actions had).

then you're at one of luthor's galas the next time, being interviewed by this cute man with eyeglasses, who calls himself clark kent, with the cutest country-boy accent, who looks too tall to act all lanky, but you're not one to judge. you take one look at his baggy suit, ignore the pen and paper in his hands and drag him off to one of the spare janitorial rooms to have, quite possibly, the most pleasurable quickie you've ever had spent inside a cramped closet, your sweat sliding off each other as your bodies move in a harmonious tandem. you give him a kiss on his collar right after the momentary sex, and giggle at the skittish blush dispersing on his face, as if he didn't just give you a reason to go home early due to the limp on your step.

after everything, they were buried in the back of your mind. they were great fucks, yes, you never had a moment of horny zenith not until you met them, yes; but your relationship (if you could even call it that) with both men were purely sexual and a one-time thing. you never really thought of them, you prioritize your social life and reputation above all else, not your coster of other rich people you've slept with.

but one day, you see both in the same room as you in another gala. you're oblivious to the sets of eyes hungrily taking you in, or how quickly they shove off other people just to move closer the moment their attention land on you. you take a look at the two men, biting your lips whilst your eyes devour the memory of their muscled pecs squished between your index and middle finger, and their thick thighs pistoning you back and forth, all hidden under all the clothes covering their body; and whisper not-so silently:

"i can take them both, not in a fight."

sadly, you'll never know that they're both at each other's throats after hearing your confession, ready to take each other in a fight if it meant having you in their arms once more. you'll never know just how bruce managed to throw in a microchip in your bag before you're escorted home by his limousine, or how clark watched your sleeping body in your apartment as superman just to make sure you slept well after he pounded you to oblivion in that closet.

all you'll know is that you're going to score them into fucking you once more either way. after all, if they're both the best choices when it comes to pinning you down and going crazy on your body, then you'll do anything to achieve that aching goal with the both of best worlds.

you're unaware that they'd do the same thing for you, though. but it's not out of the intentions to merely sleep with you, no. they're also planning to find a pathway into your heart while at it.

so... welp, guess that's just an added list of all the other suitors you had fighting over the chance of having another night with you.

a/n: gender-neutral reader. no bodily gender mentioned at all. this is purely sexual content with some plot. i blame my irl best friend for this (the single dialogue was me thirsting over the characters through our chats). yes, i post this after posting angst. am i shameless? also yes.

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flowersforbucky · 6 months ago

Text

it's nice to have a friend

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you're having the worst period you've had in a long time. bucky is determined to help you feel better.

author's note: this is a silly and smutty piece that i felt compelled to write when i got my period a few days ago!

warnings/tags: smutty, reader has a period, langauge, use of a vibrator, nipple stimulation, no use of y/n, use of a cbd gummy lol, 18+ only

Approximately every twenty-eight days, you curse the fact that you were born with a uterus and vagina.

This month, however, you were cursing that fact a bit earlier than expected. Cycle day twenty three, to be exact.

Your periods never start this early, but as soon as you opened your eyes at six o'clock this morning, you knew what had occured while you were asleep. You could feel the moisture that soaked through your underwear and pajama pants before you could turn on the light to see that your white sheets had been dyed bright crimson beneath where you'd been laying.

One load of laundry with extra stain remover and as much Pamprin max strength as one can safely take later, you are curled up on the couch of the compound's living room with a cup of coffee and a heating pad turned up so high that you risk first degree burns.

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you today? We can go to Coney Island another time,” Natasha tries to reason with you once again.

“I promise I'll be okay here,” you assure her. “These cramps are killing me, I won't be any fun to hang out with today. Go, enjoy yourself. When is the next time that you'll all have a free day and weather this perfect?” You gesture towards the sunshine streaming through the living room windows.

“If you're sure,” she caves after a few moments of hesitation. “Promise I’ll win you that stuffed panda that you wanted so badly last time.”

“I am going to hold you to that,” you tell her in a faux-serious tone.

After Natasha and the rest of your friends have left for their day of riding rollercoasters and eating hotdogs on the boardwalk, you turn on your comfort show and settle in for an unexciting and uncomfortable day by yourself.

A few hours later, you decide you've sat in the same position for long enough - you can practically feel your body morphing to the sofa. You're walking to the kitchen to refill your water bottle and find something to snack on when you collide with what feels like a brick wall.

A brick wall that happens to smell really, really fucking good.

You step back, finding that the brick wall is staring at you with a confused look on his face.

"What are you doing here?” Bucky asks as he glances you over from head to toe, taking in your choice of apparel - baggy sweats that are about two sizes too big for you, a cropped tank, and fuzzy slippers. You resist the urge to cross your arms over your stomach - you didn't think anyone else would be here today and the tank top you're wearing doesn't exactly conceal the period bloat you're currently experiencing.

"I live here,” you snap, a bit harsher than necessary. “What are you doing here?”

“I also live here,” he says, returning your attitude. You roll your eyes, maneuvering your way around where he blocks the doorway.

“What I mean,” he continues as he turns around, following you into the kitchen. “Is why aren't you with everyone at Coney Island?”

“I could ask you the same question,” you challenge, pouring some more ice into your cup. “Steve never shuts up about the glory days, all the time the two of you spent at Coney Island. I'm surprised you're not there with him right now.”

He huffs a laugh, pulling out one of the barstools at the kitchen's giant island and taking a seat. “We did spend a ridiculous amount of time at Coney Island,” he admits, his voice almost wistful. He hesitates before continuing, staring down at his hands as he traces a metal crevice on his left palm.

"But I haven't been to Coney Island since the forties. Guess I'm kinda scared it won't live up to my memories of it. Plus, I had a lot of laundry to catch up on, so..” he shrugs, trailing off.

You're taken aback by the honesty of his explanation. “Yeah, well,” you start awkwardly, turning away from him to search through a cabinet for something to eat. “I can't say that I know what it was like in the forties, but it's one of my favorite places, present day.”

“Then why are you hanging out by yourself while all of your friends are at one of your favorite places?”

Damn it, you curse internally. He's really not going to drop this. What should I say, that my uterine lining is falling out in clumps?

You grab a bag of freeze-dried fruit from the cabinet before turning back to face him, trying to come up with an excuse.

“I just didn't sleep great–” you come to an abrupt stop in the middle of your sentence as a blinding pain shoots through your lower abdomen. The bag of fruit falls to the floor as you steady yourself on the ledge of the counter with one hand, clutching your stomach with the other.

Bucky rises from his seat in an instant, closing the several feet of distance between the two of you in one big step.

"Are you okay? What’s going on?” His hands are both extended to you in an offer of help.

“I'm fine,” you say through a sharp intake of breath. “It’s.. it’s just cramps. Bad cramps,” you force the words out, propping your elbows up on the countertop to relax your body weight.

“Oh,” he says as realization dawns on him. He bends down to grab the bag of fruit that lays next to your feet, and then places it on the table in front of you. “I guess that answers my question, then,” he adds, referring to why you didn't go to Coney Island.

“Ya think?” You stand back upright, grabbing your snack and water bottle off of the counter. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a busy day of bed-rotting ahead of me.”

“Some exercise would help,” he calls when you're about to exit the kitchen. “Laying in bed won't do much for you. A little bit of light exercise to release some beta-endorphins, maybe an abdominal massage–”

“Are you really man-splaining menstrual cycle pain management to me right now?” You ask, slowly turning to face him with an incredulous look on your face. “I wasn't aware that you had a medical license or that I asked for your opinion.”

“Just trying to help, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a mischievous grin.

“If you want to help, you can go get the Italian food that I'm craving and give me an abdominal massage yourself,” you practically spit at him. “Otherwise, keep the unsolicited advice to yourself and fuck off.”

You turn back around and all but run out of the room before you can process the shocked, albeit pleased look on his face.

After you've closed your bedroom door behind you (with perhaps a bit more force than necessary), you sink into the fresh sheets on your bed and shove several pieces of apricot into your mouth.

Rationally, you knew that Bucky's advice was solid, and that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. That's just the kind of friendship that the two of you have. Sarcastic, teasing and occasionally… tension-filled.

You definitely didn't help the matter by telling him to massage your abdomen, but what does he expect when he suggests something as horrible as exercising during a time that you simply want nothing more than to melt into your mattress?

Your cell phone chimes from the pocket of your sweatpants. You dig it out and look at the text displayed across your lock screen.

Bucky Barnes: What kind of Italian food, specifically?

You would never admit it to him, but the corners of your mouth tug upwards into a smirk as you read his message.

You type: Don't you have a lot of laundry to catch up on? and press send. The message is marked as “read” right away.

He types. And types. And types some more – until those three dots indicating a message in progress disappear.

Whatever. You click your phone off and toss it somewhere in the covers around you.

The next couple hours are spent sitting under the near scalding stream of your shower, and then reading on your Kindle in the dark. As jealous as you are that your friends are undoubtedly having a blast today, you honestly don't mind your current situation - aside from feeling like your organs are being pulled out of your vagina, you hardly ever have days with zero obligations other than to just relax in whatever way you see fit.

A strong knock on your door causes you to lose your place on the page.

"You didn't give me a legitimate answer so I hope you like gnocchi, or eggplant parmesan, or traditional lasagna, or extra breadsticks..”

“You know, it's not funny to joke about carbs to someone when they are–”

You come to a stop in the middle of your sentence when you swing your door open to see him holding several plastic bags. An aroma of garlic and herbs hits you in the face.

Oh. Not a joke, then.

He extends one of the bags to you with his big, blue puppy dog eyes. You take it from him, opening the door further as an invitation to enter your bedroom.

"Consider this a peace offering,” he says, placing the other bags of food on your bed and perching awkwardly on the edge of your mattress. You close the door behind you, walking back to where you had previously been lounging on the bed.

“I'm sorry for being a smartass,” he adds more genuinely. “I just.. didn't like seeing you in pain. That's all.”

“This is far from my first period,” you shrug, not meeting his stare. “You get used to it after a while. But consider yourself forgiven.”

He gives you a small smile when you finally look up at him. He grabs a smaller bag that you hadn't noticed him carrying, one that is visibly less full than the others. He reaches inside, pulling out a small jar that he hands over to you.

Your brows furrow as you inspect it closely. “CBD gummies?” You ask, your brows now raising quizzically. You open the jar, popping one of the pink, cube-shaped gummies into your mouth. “Watermelon flavored CBD gummies?”

You notice the faintest trace of blush bloom across his cheeks. “I take them sometimes to help me sleep,” he starts, fiddling with some of the beading on your comforter. “But they can help with all different kinds of pain too, so I just thought you might like some.”

You close the jar, placing it on your bedside table before reaching over and grabbing his flesh hand in yours. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze and then releasing it. “Really. I appreciate all of this.” You try to ignore the jolt of electricity that buzzes through you when your skin comes in contact with his. His hand is both softer and warmer than you would have imagined. It brings you back to the last words that you spewed at him in the kitchen earlier.

"A shit ton of pasta and CBD gummies,” you snort a laugh. “Would I be pushing my luck if I asked for that abdominal massage too?” You say it in a way that sounds halfway serious, halfway joking.

“If that's what you want,” he says lowly, turning to angle his body towards you on the bed. “Then just say the word.”

The air in your room suddenly feels suffocating.

It is what you want - but you're at a loss for words. So instead of a verbal response, you scoot over to the middle of the bed, closer to where he sits on the opposite side. You lay down so that your back is flat against the mattress, your head propped up by a single pillow.

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly wipes the look of astonishment from his features. He moves so that he's sitting directly next to your legs, giving him a proper angle to put his hands on your lower stomach.

You're wearing the same sweatpants and tank top from earlier, having thrown the outfit back on after your shower. The loose sweatpants hang low enough to expose your hip bones and the edge of your underwear.

The intimacy of the entire situation hits you the second that his hands make contact with your skin.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, perhaps sensing your nerves. “Or if I do anything that doesn't feel good.”

Your eyes shut instinctively at the polar opposite sensations of his flesh and vibranium hands. Skin and metal, fire and ice.

“I will,” you assure him. Your words come out breathier than intended.

There's an immediate relief in your lower stomach as he rubs languid circles across your midriff. It's a feeling beyond pleasure as the cramps fade the more he touches you.

His vibranium pinky dances along the waistband of your underwear, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You try to focus on the relief he's bringing you - not the fact that you're wearing a thin tank top that leaves so much of your skin on display, giving him a clear view of the goosebumps that he's caused.

He continues with the precise motions until the pain in your abdomen has faded nearly entirely - you feel so good that you can't stop yourself from letting out the smallest moan when his flesh hand applies just the right amount of pressure near your pelvis.

You know he heard it - there's no way he didn't. Just as you know there's no way that he doesn't notice your fully hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top.

You keep your eyes closed, terrified to meet his gaze in this state. You dread the moment that you feel his hands pull away from your skin.

"You know,” he starts, his voice possessing a strained edge. “I don't think this is good enough for you.”

Your eyes shoot open, looking at him in a nervous confusion. There's a glimmer in his eyes that you can't quite pinpoint - his stare trailing to your bedside table on the opposite side of you. “But I think I do know what could make you feel much better.”

“What are you talking about?” Your voice quivers as you follow his stare. You're not sure what he's looking at - all that sits on your nightstand is the CBD gummies he had just given you, your Kindle, a few books, a bottle of lotion, and the Himalayan salt lamp that paints you both in an orange glow.

He smirks before leaning across you - keeping his vibranium hand pressed firmly on your belly as he uses his flesh hand to pull open the drawer of the small table.

“Hey! What are you–” but he retrieves the object he’s looking for before you can finish questioning him. You freeze at what he's holding in his hand.

Your vibrator. Your glittery, lavender colored vibrator.

“How the fuck did you–”

“Do you think I can't hear you using this from across the hallway late at night?” He grins smugly. “That I can't hear your little whimpers when you think everyone's asleep?”

Your face heats up a hundred degrees. You don't know whether to be infuriated or massively turned on.

Both. You're definitely feeling a mix of both.

He clicks the power button, turning on the device to its lowest setting. He watches you for a moment, giving you ample time to tell him to fuck off.

Instead, you once again relax against the pillow, your body going limp for him. You spread your legs the slightest bit.

He takes this as his signal to proceed. Not taking his eyes off of your face, he trails the head of the wand from your lower stomach and over the fabric of your sweatpants until he reaches the apex of your thighs. Your nipples pucker once again, your thighs clenching around the tip of the vibrator.

Bucky moves the device in a circular motion, making your back arch off the bed and your head tip back.

How is it that it feels better when he massages you with it through your fucking pants than it does when you use it on your bare pussy?

You hear the clicking of a button again, and the force of the vibration over your clothed cunt increases. You grind down on the device, desperate for friction.

Bucky watches you with something akin to pride on his face.

“You know how I told you to tell me if I do something you don't like?” He asks as he pushes the head of the wand directly down on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

“Yeah,” you answer - it comes out like a moan that you'd hear in a porno.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Remember that.”

Before you can clear your head enough to wonder what he means, he's tugging up the cotton fabric of your tank top and exposing your breasts.

You gasp at the sensation of the cool air blowing from the AC coming in contact with your already hard nipples. Bucky leans forward, keeping the vibrator on your core, and captures one of your nipples in his mouth.

Your hand immediately goes to his hair, tugging the soft brown locks in your fingers to keep him in place. His free hand grasps your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

The combination of pleasure radiating from your pussy and his hand and mouth on you is fucking perfect. Fucking perfect, and all too much.

You clench your thighs together, riding against the vibrator until you feel warmth spreading through your lower belly.

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you moan - he groans when you say his name, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge. You come hard, possibly harder than any other orgasm you've had in your life, thoroughly soaking your panties.

When you've finished writhing beneath him, Bucky pulls back, removing both his mouth and the vibrator. He clicks the device off, tossing it towards the foot of your bed.

You're panting, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process what the fuck just happened when you hear Bucky let out a low chuckle.

Your eyes snap to him, finding that he looks thoroughly pleased with himself.

"Can't say that's how I expected the day to go when I decided to sit this Coney Island trip out,” he sighs.

“You can say that again.” You sit upright, bending your legs and crossing them at the ankles. You lean forward, tugging your shirt back into place before pulling one of the bags of food to you.

"We should go sometime soon. Together,” you add, somewhat nervously. You aren't sure why - the guy just gave you the best orgasm of your life (and barely even touched you).

“Are you asking me on a date?” that sly smile reappears.

You shrug. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

"Then my answer is yes. But only if you share some of this food with me.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks so much for reading!!! can anyone tell that i really fucking love food by how often i incorporate it into my writing? 😅

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic

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lizziesangel · 19 days ago

Text

RAFE CAMERON ⟢ finding you again

x FEM!POGUE!reader ⟢ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: based on this request

WORD COUNT: +2.8k

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: /

the boarding process was chaotic, as it always was. you adjusted the strap of your backpack and shuffled into the cramped airplane aisle, eyes scanning for your seat. 14B. a window seat would’ve been nice, but you weren’t complaining—after all, this trip had been a splurge, something you worked overtime for over the past few months.

you reached your row, stowing your bag beneath the seat and tucking yourself into place. as you fastened your seatbelt, you glanced at the other seat, wondering who your seatmate for the next several hours would be.

a moment later, someone bumped into your row, muttering an absentminded “excuse me.” you looked up, and your breath got caught in your throat. he was tall, with tousled dirty-blonde hair, a strong jawline, and piercing blue eyes that momentarily made you forget how to speak. he wore a fitted polo and expensive sneakers that looked like they’d never touched dirt.

“i’m in seat 14A,” he said, glancing at his boarding pass and then back at you.

you slid out to let him in, offering a polite smile.

“guess we’re seatmates,” he smiled back at you for a split second, trying to move smoothly into his seat.

“looks like it,” you replied, sliding back into your seat.

he barely spared you another glance as he stashed his carry-on and pulled out a pair of noise-canceling headphones.

charming, you thought wryly, sitting back down. the plane filled up quickly, and soon the flight attendants were going through safety protocols. you fiddled with your seatbelt nervously as the plane began to move.

you’d flown a handful of times before, but the thought of being 30,000 feet in the air still made you jittery. as the plane picked up speed and lifted off, you gripped the armrest tightly, staring straight ahead.

“not a fan of flying?” a voice drawled beside you.

you turned, surprised to see your seatmate watching you. his headphones were draped around his neck now, and the amused tilt of his lips made you feel both annoyed and flustered.

“not really,” you admitted, forcing a shaky laugh. “it’s the turbulence. feels like the plane’s going to fall out of the sky.”

“it’s not,” he said with a shrug. “just air pockets. completely normal.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you sound awfully confident.”

“i fly a lot,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “you get used to it.”

“well, lucky you,” you muttered, clutching the armrest harder as the plane jostled again.

he chuckled. “relax. i’ll tell you if you need to worry.”

“oh, thanks,” you said sarcastically, but his teasing smile made your nerves ease—just a little.

“i’m rafe, by the way. rafe cameron” he offered after a moment, holding out his hand.

“y/n, y/n l/n,” you replied, shaking it. his hand was warm, his grip firm but not overpowering.

“well, y/n, if it helps, i’ve flown through way worse. one time, i swear the plane dropped a hundred feet out of nowhere. people were screaming and everything.”

“wow, that’s so comforting,” you deadpanned, glaring at him, letting go of his hand.

he grinned, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “hey, you’re not screaming yet, so i think we’re doing okay.”

despite yourself, you felt your lips twitch into a reluctant smile. “you’re the worst.”

“so i’ve been told.”

“you heading home?” he added.

“yeah,” you said, nodding. “you?”

“same.”

that was the extent of the small talk for a while. but as the plane leveled out and the seatbelt sign dinged off, rafe turned to you again.

“vacation or work?” he asked, nodding toward your book, which you hadn’t yet opened.

“vacation,” you said, brightening at the topic. “i saved up for months. it wasn’t anything fancy, but it was nice to get away. what about you?”

“vacation or work?” he asked, nodding toward your book, which you hadn’t yet opened.

“vacation,” you said, brightening at the topic. “i saved up for months. it wasn’t anything fancy, but it was nice to get away. what about you?”

“bit of both,” he said vaguely. “you were saying something about working hard for your vacation?”

you blinked, surprised he was picking up the conversation. “yeah,” you said with a small smile. “it’s not easy juggling two jobs, but it’s worth it. i needed the break.”

“two jobs?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “what, are you some kind of workaholic?”

you laughed. “not by choice. life’s expensive, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“can’t relate,” he quipped, a lopsided grin forming.

you snorted. “gee, must be nice.”

he chuckled, leaning a little closer. “so, where’d you go on vacation? Somewhere fancy?”

“not exactly,” you said. “it was just a little beach town. quiet mornings, lots of reading. nothing fancy, but it was perfect.”

“sounds nice,” he admitted. “i could use a quiet beach day.”

“yeah? you don’t strike me as the ‘quiet’ type,” you teased.

rafe smirked, his eyes narrowing playfully. “what type do i strike you as?”

you paused, tapping your chin dramatically. “hmm… definitely a bit of a troublemaker.”

he laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made your stomach flutter. “fair enough. but you don’t seem like the type to mind a little trouble.”

your cheeks warmed, and you turned back to your menu to hide your grin. “anyway,” you said, clearing your throat. “i’m starving. what’s good on here?”

when the flight attendants began serving meals, you opted for a sandwich and a soda, while rafe got some kind of pasta dish. you were mid-bite, listening to him tell an exaggerated story about a “friend”—who you strongly suspected was actually him—accidentally starting a fire while trying to cook.

“i’m telling you, the pan just caught on fire out of nowhere,” he insisted, grinning.

“uh-huh,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “and the fire department just happened to show up because they missed you?”

“exactly,” he said with mock seriousness. “small-town charm.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “remind me never to let you near my kitchen.”

as you spoke, you reached for your soda but accidentally knocked it over, sending the can tumbling onto rafe’s tray. a stream of cola splashed across his shirt and onto the seat between you.

“oh my gosh, i’m so sorry!” you gasped, grabbing a handful of napkins from your tray.

rafe looked down at his soaked shirt, then back at you, an amused glint in his eyes. “well, there goes my clean look.”

“i’ll fix it!” you said, hurriedly dabbing at the fabric, your face burning.

he laughed, holding up his hands. “relax, it’s just a shirt. don’t have a heart attack.”

but you were already in damage control mode, muttering apologies as you tried to blot out the stain. rafe leaned back, smirking. “if i didn’t know better, i’d think you planned this. just wanted an excuse to get your hands on me, huh?”

you froze, wide-eyed, before realizing he was joking. “oh, please,” you shot back, swatting his arm. “if i wanted to touch you, i’d at least come up with a better excuse.”

“fair point,” he said, laughing as he grabbed some napkins to help.

for the next few minutes, the two of you worked together to clean up the mess, your hands occasionally brushing as you both reached for the same spot. each accidental touch sent a little jolt through you, but you tried to ignore it, focusing on the task at hand.

when the seat was finally cola-free, you sighed in relief, sitting back. “crisis averted.”

“barely,” rafe said, grinning as he peeled off his damp hoodie to reveal a fitted white t-shirt underneath. “guess this’ll have to do.”

you tried not to stare at how well the shirt fit him, opting instead to focus on your tray. “i owe you a soda,” you mumbled, still embarrassed.

“nah,” he said, waving it off. “you can pay me back by telling me more about your vacation. sounds like you had a better time than i did.”

as the flight continued, you found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks. he had a knack for making even mundane stories sound exciting, and his occasional self-deprecating humor made him surprisingly endearing.

“so, let me get this straight,” you said at one point, barely containing your laughter. “you jumped into a fountain because you thought someone threw your wallet in there?”

“it looked like my wallet!” he said defensively, though his grin betrayed his amusement. “how was i supposed to know it was a dead fish?”

you doubled over, tears forming in your eyes. “i can’t believe you—wait, no, i totally can.”

“careful,” he teased. “you’re starting to sound like you like me.”

you rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed at his words. “you’d wish that.”

“maybe,” he said, his voice low and playful.

the banter flowed easily, the hours slipping by without you noticing. by the time the plane began its descent, you were half-convinced this was the most fun you’d ever had on a flight.

that was, until he asked the question that ruined it all.

“so,” he asked casually, leaning back in his seat. “what do you do for work again?”

you hesitated for a moment, unsure if he’d be impressed or dismissive. but there was something about his casual curiosity that made you answer honestly.

“i work at the library part-time, and i help out at the wreck during the evenings. It’s busy, but I don’t mind.”

“the wreck?” he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly.

“yeah,” you said, smiling. “best fish tacos on the island.”

“you live near the wreck?” he asked, though his tone had lost its earlier playfulness.

“yeah,” you said, still smiling. “over in the cut.”

rafe leaned back, his expression unreadable now. something in his demeanor shifted, like a door quietly closing.

“you live near the wreck?” he asked, his tone suddenly more clipped.

“over in the cut,” you said, still unaware of the change. “why?”

and just like that, the bubble burst.

there it was—the flash of recognition in his eyes. the name of the cut was like a cold bucket of water thrown over whatever budding warmth had been building between you.

“you’re a pogue,” he said, his voice low.

the word hit you square in the chest. it wasn’t a question; it was a fact, said with a mix of disbelief and something else—something bitter.

“is that… a problem?” you asked cautiously, your smile faltering.

rafe shook his head, but the tension in his jaw told a different story. “no,” he said flatly, turning his attention to the window. “no problem at all.”

the conversation died a swift, painful death. every time you glanced at him, he was staring straight ahead or out the window, his body angled slightly away from you. the easy banter and gentle teasing were gone, replaced by an invisible wall that felt insurmountable.

you tried once or twice to reignite the conversation, asking about his vacation or his favorite spots back in kildare. but his answers were curt, bordering on dismissive. eventually, you gave up, sinking into your seat with a knot in your chest.

when the plane landed, rafe was up and out of his seat before you could say goodbye. he muttered something that might’ve been “see you around,” but it was drowned out by the noise of disembarking passengers.

as you watched him walk away, a bitter pang of embarrassment settled in your stomach. you’d thought, just for a moment, that you’d made a connection with him. but apparently, the line between kook and pogue was still as unyielding as ever.

the wreck was in full swing, the clatter of plates and hum of conversations filling the air. you had just clocked out for a break, grabbing your sandwich and heading to your second-hand car parked at the edge of the lot. it wasn’t much—a little beat-up around the edges and prone to overheating—but it was your sanctuary.

sliding into the driver’s seat, you let out a long sigh. the noise of the restaurant faded as you closed the door, leaving only the quiet hum of the parking lot. you unwrapped your sandwich and sank into the seat, scrolling idly through your phone as you ate.

for a brief moment, the world felt peaceful.

back inside, rafe cameron walked through the door, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room. dressed casually but still managing to draw attention, he hesitated by the counter before making his way to kiara, who was wiping down the counter.

“where is she? where’s y/n?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

kiara froze, looking up at him with a glare that could cut steel. “why do you care?”

“i just need to talk to her,” rafe said, running a hand through his hair.

“talk?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “like how you talked to her on the plane? because that worked out great, ” she crossed her arms, her expression hardening.

“so, no. you’re not talking to her.”

“come on, kie,” rafe said, exasperated. “i just want to apologize.”

“you want to apologize?” kie scoffed. “what’s the catch, rafe? did your dad send you to buy her silence or something?”

“you don’t get to ignore her and then show up like it’s no big deal. you kooks are all the same—thinking you can just waltz in and fix everything with some half-assed apology.”

“it’s not like that,” rafe said, his voice softening. “i know i screwed up. i just—i panicked, okay? i wasn’t sure how my dad would react if i told him i wanted to take a pogue on a date.”

kie’s eyes narrowed. “so instead, you made her feel like crap? real smooth, cameron.”

“i know,” rafe admitted, his tone filled with frustration. “i messed up, but i want to make it right. please, kie. where is she?”

kie hesitated, her glare softening slightly before she sighed and gestured toward the parking lot. “she’s on break. but if you hurt her again, i’ll make sure you regret it.”

rafe nodded, already heading toward the door.

you were halfway through your sandwich when you heard footsteps on the gravel. looking up, you saw rafe approaching, his hands shoved into his pockets.

you groaned internally, setting your food aside. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone sharper than intended.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said, stopping just outside your car.

“i’m on break,” you said flatly. “this better be good.”

“what do you want?”

he took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. “i’m sorry.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “for what?”

“for being an idiot,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “on the plane, after i realized you were a... pogue… i panicked. it wasn’t fair to you, and i hate that i made you feel like you weren’t worth my time. you are.”

you stared at him, your heart warring with your anger. “you panicked?”

“you panicked? that’s your excuse for acting like a total jerk?”

rafe nodded, his expression earnest. “i wasn’t sure how my dad would react if i… he’s… not exactly open-minded, and i wasn’t... sure—”

you raised an eyebrow, your voice edged with disbelief. “so instead of handling it, you decided to shut me out and act like i didn’t matter?”

“i know,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “i know i messed up. i just—i’m not used to this.”

“this?” you repeated, your frustration bubbling over. “what, treating people like equals?”

rafe flinched, shaking his head. “that’s not what i meant. i mean… ”

“i’ve never felt like this before.”

the quiet sincerity in his voice gave you pause. you studied him, your anger softening just a fraction.

“we were having a good time, and then you just… shut me out. like i wasn’t good enough for you.”

“i know,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “and i hate that i made you feel like that. you are good enough—better than i deserve, probably. i just… i didn’t know how to deal with it.”

you looked away, unsure of what to say. part of you wanted to yell at him, to tell him he didn’t deserve another chance. but another part of you—the part that remembered the easy laughter and connection you’d shared—wanted to believe he meant it.

“i don’t know if i can believe you,” you said finally, your voice steady but soft.

“i get that,” he said, his tone steady. “but let me prove it. i’ll do whatever it takes.”

you hesitated, the silence stretching between you. finally, you sighed. “you’ve got a lot to prove, cameron.”

a small smile tugged at his lips. “i will. i promise.”

“good,” you said, brushing past him. “now go. my break’s over.”

as you walked back toward the wreck, you glanced over your shoulder. rafe was still standing by your car, watching you with a look that made your chest ache.

maybe, just maybe, he meant what he said.

#lizzieswrites𝜗𝜚 #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you

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monstersholygrail · 6 months ago

Text

Commission for @madamsnape921

Request: You have period sex for the first time with your monster bf.

Reminder that I offer commissions here!

Monster bf whimpers helplessly, the smell of your pheromones even more potent now that you’re on your period. Your smell and his aching cock, dripping with pre-cum, is sure to make him go insane the longer you keep yourself from him.

He presses his face into your neck, surrounding himself with your scent and marking you with his as he kisses along your warm smooth skin. Hoping to slowly lull you into acceptance, distract you from your uncertainty about letting him fuck your sweet drooling pussy while on your period for the first time.

“Please, my heart, I can smell how much you need me,” he growls against your skin, licking and nipping at your throat. Attempting to control himself as more of your addictive scent flows into his senses.

His claws slowly rake down your body, feeling the soft curves and contours of your form that he treasures so deeply. Stopping once they reach your thighs and spreading them for his broad build. His actions filling your mind with a haze of lust as he starts to grind his thick cock into exposed panties.

“But-but… fuck!” You exclaim, hands wrapping around his neck as you begin to rock with his movements. Seeking more, seeking relief. Monster bf snarls, rolling his hips harder into you as he sees your resistance weakening.

“Let me take care of my mate. Don’t deny me such privileges. Allow me to smooth your aches and cherish you as you deserve,” Monster bf rumbles, hands caressing you tenderly as his girth has your pussy pooling with arousal.

The last of your resolve snaps when Monster bf loving massages right where your cramps have been bugging you all day before dipping down and rubbing circles into your clit. You gasp as your hips jolt from the sensation.

“Need you,” you beg, forehead against his, and still meeting his every movement. Monster bf grunts, loving the way you sound when you’re so desperate for him as moans spill from your lips.

The pressure on your puffy clit deepens. A dark look passing over your bfs face, craving to see you fall apart for him so damn easily. You let the pleasure consume you, crying out, and rutting into your bfs body until the cord breaks. Your orgasm washing over you and drowning you in ecstasy.

Though you can feel the pain of your cramps lessen, it’s not enough. Not now that you know how much it’ll help; how good it feels when on your period.

“Want more,” you whimper through heavy breaths, all second-guessing having long since gone out the window. Monster bf chuckles and helps you get his clothes off before helping you with your own.

With your body all prepped he slides inside your hot wet cunt with ease. Sighing in relief as groans of satisfaction rip from your lips.

“I know, I know. That’s it, take my cock. Maybe a bruised cervix will distract you from the cramps…” Monster bf teases as he plunges inside your dripping and needy pussy. Despite his words, he attempts to go easy on your sore body.

But you squeeze tightly around his steady rhythm, sucking his cock back in with each thrust. Monster bf growls, seeing just how badly you need him. Without a word he picks up pace, pounding his length roughly inside you. Never letting up for a second, giving you everything he has.

His arms wrap around you, keeping you in place as he fucks his length into you. The melodic squelch of your hips meeting makes him feral, salivating at the thought of you coating his cock your release.

He doesn’t stop until he’s done just that, even as your body trembles, your climax bursting out of you. He works you through it, joining you a moment later and filling you with his seed.

Keeping you wrapped up in his embrace, he shifts you both onto your sides. He proceeds to pepper your face in soft kisses and massage any remaining aches out of your spent form. Wanting to make this monthly experience as bearable as possible for his mate.

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mattsnight · 23 days ago

Text

Bf!matt taking care of you while you’re on your period ! ✧₊⁺

Warnings: period cramps, headaches, cursing, jokes…

Not proofread<3

“Matt it hurts so much..” you sigh loudly at the feeling of your stomach cramping. It’s that time of the month again and it’s bad. You had been in bed since it started, not able to get up because of the pain. Your boyfriend, matt, was there for you, at any time. He makes sure you got a heating pad, painkillers and all the other necessary stuff. That really made you fall for him harder.

Matt’s head shot up at your words. His heart instantly drops at your words as he slowly stands, his expression filling with worry as he moves over to you. "You okay, doll?" he says with a gentle tone before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a hug, hoping that it would even give a little comfort. "S'there anything I can do to help at all?"

You shake your head. There was nothing you could do except just lying on your bed, completely still, hoping the pain will pass on. Matt is quiet for a moment as he pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Matt hated this, not being able to help or aid you in any way. It just felt so wrong not being able to do anything. "...I hate this," he says after a pause, mostly mumbling to himself. A moment later, he looks down to you again. "How bad is the pain, darlin'? Like, how bad on a scale of one to ten?"

“An eight now, i guess.”

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out, pulling back his arms to look at you. Eight? That's pretty high. He hates the fact that you're in that much pain, and he has to keep reminding himself that he can't do anything to make it stop. "S'there nothin' I can do, baby? I'll do anything," he says in a desperate tone, wanting to help you. “I mean.. we can just cuddle.” You say, moving your hair out of your face. A sigh of relief leaves Matt's lips as you suggest it, and he nods immediately. "Yeah," he says softly, "yeah, we can definitely do that. C’mere." He wraps his arms back around you and begins slowly walking backwards so you two could make your way back to the bed.

Matt quickly pulls you down with him onto the bed, holding you close. It was almost like he never wanted to let you go. He was constantly gentle, and he made sure he wasn't doing anything that would hurt you. "...I hate seein' you in pain, y'know," he murmurs gently as he looks down to you. There was a definite pain in his chest at seeing you in pain like this, his eyes reflecting that. "I wish I could just take it from you," he says softly, a hint of almost pleading in his voice as one of his hands slowly begins rubbing your back.

"I hate not bein' able to help you," he mutters again, this time quieter, and his voice sounds choked a little. He's just so worried about you, worried that you're in so much pain and you're unable to do anything about it. He'd never wish it on his worst enemy, so seeing you like this was just heartbreaking. “I know, baby… but i promise you, i’ll be okay soon.” You mumble out, already feeling sleey.

He sighs again as he looks down to you. He knows you're probably right; this isn't permanent, it'll go away eventually. But the fact that you were in pain right now was just awful. He couldn't really get over it. "You'd tell me if it got worse, yeah?" He asks, a hint of worry once again in his voice. "I just-" he cuts himself off, gnawing on his bottom lip before continuing. "I just worry, doll."

“I know.. and that’s really sweet. I love you.”

"Aw, c'mon now," he says, but a small smile spreads across his face at your words. A light dusting of pink appears on his cheeks from your words, the same way it does every time. After a moment, he sighs gently, his arms tightening around you a little to hug you closer. "I love you too," he responds in a quiet tone as he presses another kiss to the top of your head.

He pulls back a little, moving so he's looking down at you better. That look of worry still laces his features as he just glances over your face for a moment before speaking. "S'absolutely sure there ain't nothing I can do for you?" He asks again, not wanting to annoy you, he was just worried, and he really wanted to make this as bearable as possible for you.

“Matt,” you warn him. “If you ask that one more time..” a small chuckle escapes your lips as you say that. His mouth snaps shut immediately, but the fact that he's trying to hold back a smile is apparent by the way one corner of his lips twitches. The last thing he wants to do is wind you up. He's only asking to make sure he can help you as much as possible. Of course, he's not immune to being scolded. "Aye, darlin'-" he starts, and immediately stops himself, not knowing what was going to come out of his mouth next.

For a few moments, he just sits there, keeping his mouth firmly shut, looking over the pouty expression on your face. That is until he can't take it anymore, a small snicker coming from his lips. He attempts to smother it, but it definitely gets out. "S'cute," he mumbles, his arms subconsciously tightening around your waist. “What?” You groan.

"Your face," he mumbles in response, his snicker turning into a quiet chuckle. After a pause, he continues, his tone growing softer once again. "When you look like that, all pouty. S'cute." Matt presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as he talks. That smile on his face never leaves as he hugs you closer to him, his chest rising and falling as he takes a deep breath. "Seriously, doll, you got a damn adorable expression right now, y'know that? Lookin' all offended just because I asked if there was anythin' else I could do," he murmurs against your head, still holding you tightly.

“Matt im gonna do something to you if you don’t shut up, my head is throbbing.”

"Do somethin' to me? Like what?" He asks in a lighthearted tone, still amused by your pouty face and your threat to him. He lets himself chuckle, his eyes looking down at you again before he slowly moves a hand to your head, gently running his fingers through your hair. "You ain't gonna get to me that easily, sweetheart."

“Oh i will.”

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #cute #period cramps

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lyrefromthesea · 6 months ago

Note

Period sex with upper moons?

Akaza, Kokushibo, Douma - Period Sex

author's note: guess who's my favourite character in here and who i have personal beef with, i dare you.

pairing: Kokushibo x reader, Douma x reader, Akaza x reader

content warning: (obviously) period sex, mentions of blood, fem!reader

Kokushibo:

• though internally panicking, looked just fine when he picked up on the smell of blood

• came to check and the silent panic vanished

• will eventually know when your period starts before you know it yourself

• has no problem going down on you, but somehow always end up balls deep inside you

you whined as the man pulled two fingers out of your cunt, satisfied with the way you were dripping both blood and arousal.

he held eye contact with you as he brought the two digits to his lips, pushing them past his lips and licking the blood off.

"it's more than sweet.." he uttered, all three pairs of his eyes narrowing slightly. you held back a needy hum, seeing him glance at you.

he let his kimono slide of his shoulders, your mind occupied by the gracefulness of his actions. the cloth fell to the ground, revealing the pale body you've seen many times already.

"now let me have you.." he quietly said, steeping out of the last piece of clothing. though your eyes were focused on the clothes piled beside him, he was completely focused on you.

before you knew it, the man was over you, strong arms caging you between them. you felt your face heat up, almost making you forget the cramps you were experiencing.

"look at me." he demanded - requested. despite the embarrassment, you met his gaze, the smallest tug on his lip indicating his content state.

you held eye contact with him until he had fully sheathed himself inside you. his hand traveled over your stomach, pressing down where he suspected his cock would be.

you gasped, trying to keep yourself from arching your back. with his hand still on your stomach, he began slowly thrusting into you, watching your face for any discomfort.

"is that it? are you feeling good like this?" he whispered into your ear, his voice lightly breathy. you didn't answer - he didn't need one, not when you were squeezing around him so tightly.

Douma:

• you know he takes advantage of situations that could be good for him and this is definitely one of them

• yes, sex is something he had come to enjoy, but this was totally different

• blood, he didn't even need to do anything

• free source of food for a week, definitely will eat you out, no way he'll use his cock when he can just fuck you with his tongue

this was perfect, you were perfect, everything about this situation was perfect to him. he had you right where he wanted, right at his mercy.

you, on the other hand, were exhausted and in desperate need of a break. when did this start? you couldn't even remember how many orgasms the man - the demon - has pulled out of you.

his tongue licked a long stripe up your pussy, watching you shudder and cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. he was too focused on his actions to notice the way you were weakly tugging at his hair, trying to stop him.

"so sweet, my little follower." he muttered against you, eyes finally opening, just enough for them to be lidded. he looked at you, realizing that the blood had decreased over time.

"don't tell me you're already finished? i thought you were going to give me more - show me your respect." he laughed, knowing that you could barely react to his words.

tears had started falling down your cheeks a long time ago, not sure how to handle any following orgasm. yet you couldn't move, body cramping up every few minutes while his arms pressed you against his face.

he didn't care how messy it got, a mix of slick, spit and blood staining his lips and chin. how could he care? you were divine.

if there was anything close to a god, it had bestowed him with the pleasure of getting to taste you every month.

your weak cries pulled him out of his thoughts, feeling you convulse and tremble once more, cooing at the orgasm he pulled out of you.

"look, there's more! i knew you had it in you, little follower, now be good and give me even more." he chuckled, kissing up your thigh until he was ready to dive into eating you out again.

Akaza:

• panicked when you got your first period and he didn't know of it

• first thought: danger, first thought after finding out you were on you period: nonexistent

• knew you were in pain and does his best to help, but keeps away from sex for quite some time

• eventually gives up because he can't resist your pleading

• enjoys it, but constantly worried

you watched him wipe the blood off his chin with the back of his hand, licking the rest of his lips. the action alone made you shudder in anticipation, feeling him stand up to position himself over you.

"are you feeling better, darling?" he asked, his voice quiet, as if he knew it would hurt you. you were fragile in his eyes, at the verge of breaking whenever you felt like this.

he treated you with the outmost care, abandoning pride to ensure your comfort. feeling another cramp shoot pain through your stomach, you held onto him, squeezing your eyes shut.

"please.. i need you.." you breathlessly whispered, his warm hand coming down to rub soothing circles against your waist. his other hand helped him guide his cock towards your entrance.

"shh.. i'm here for you." he answered, rubbing his cock against the mix of your slick and blood, the action making you moan out quietly.

he let you hold onto him as he pushed in, whispering words of praise and appreciation. the man didn't stop until you took him full, quietly grunting at the way you were squeezing.

"you.. you have to relax, darling. you're squeezing me so damn tight.." he groaned, letting his head fall down.

his hand let go off your leg, rubbing circles against your clit. "a- ah.. relax for me, darling. relax so i can take care of you."

he made sure to put your pleasure above his, to ensure your safety, your comfort. you gifted him the opportunity to eat you out, to taste you in such a special way, he needed to make sure you were doing good. it was only fair in his opinion, this wasn't about him, he could hold himself back if it made you feel better.

nevertheless, you didn't mind thanking him once your period was over, making sure to give him the pleasure he made you feel.

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luveline · 8 months ago

Note

How about Steve with a reader who already has a kid? Like they're in their twenties and she has maybe 2 or 3 year old. Her ex isn't in the picture so it's just her. Maybe the fic is Steve finally getting to meet readers son/ daughter. Maybe she has to leave their date earlier due to a babysitter problem and Steve just comes along with her and they spend the night together.

ty for requesting <3 mom!reader, 2k

“Try not to show fear,” you’re saying, your hand pulled tight against his. He savours the softness of it even as the concrete steps to your house force you apart.

“I’m not scared.”

“I’m just saying, Steve. Toddlers know when you’re scared.”

“But I’m not scared.” Steve has handled worse than toddlers. If your kid is anything like you, this will be a walk in the park.

You grin at him and give him one of your cute shrugs, though shyness he recognises from your first date stiffens your shoulders again as you open your front door.

Your home is small. The first thing he notices is the cramped space walking in, the tight stairs, but the second thing he notices is the amount of life, photographs that deck the walls and colour everywhere, clothes folded and waiting to be taken upstairs, little shoes in a stand by an open bathroom door.

“Melanie?” you call. “You okay?”

Melanie appears in the door with a huge watery frown, who Steve assumes to be your young son smiling on her hip, unperturbed. “I’m so sorry.”

She’d been incoherent on the phone, though eventually squeezed out that it was nothing wrong with Noah. Melanie’s boyfriend appears to have broken up with her over the phone.

You scoop Noah off of his babysitter's hip, holding him with far more ease. He drops his face with affection to the curve of your bare shoulder. It’s a shame you and Steve had to come home —you’re wearing the nicest dress he’s ever seen. But not a shame, because Steve’s excited to meet the baby.

You could’ve sent him home. He assumes this means some level of trust and, better, permanency. If all goes well, he might be able to ask you to go steady soon. He’d love to do it tonight.

“Don’t worry, Melanie, you can’t help it if something bad happens, can you? I’m really sorry about your boyfriend. Do you need me to drive you home?”

Melanie sniffles miserably. “No, that’s okay, I can drive. I’m sorry.”

You rub her arm. “It’s okay, really. We were just gonna have dinner and head home.”

Steve internalises his reaction to that tidbit well. Melanie gives him a sad smile and passes by, her shoes heavy and smacking as she leaves with a mumbled farewell.

“She’s a little emotional,” you say sympathetically, before turning your attention to the sleepy kid on your shoulder. “Sorry, Noah, guess you’re stuck with mommy and her new friend. Do you want to say hi?”

Noah lifts his head, following your hand where you point at Steve, a smile like yours on his lips.

Steve genuinely isn’t scared of kids, he loves them, and he loves talking to them. “Hi, buddy. It’s nice to meet you.”

You hum appreciatively. “Go on, say hi to Steve.”

“Hi,” Noah says quietly.

Your voice is different around the baby, not any less pretty but softer, and quieter. It has Steve lowering his own voice in an attempt to mimic you. “Hi, bud.”

“He’s my new best friend,” you explain, ushering Steve closer, your hand touching gently to his shoulder.

Noah’s even more your image now he’s closer, all your eyes and smile and brightness, but he’s got someone else’s nose, and he’s got a bad case of yawns. You laugh at his scrunched nose, wiping your thumb lightly over his bottom lip. “You want to go to bed, sweet boy?” you ask.

“No… buppy.”

“You want your buppy. Okay, I’ll get it for you.” You pull your arm through Steve’s. “Let’s go.”

He laughs and goes happily. Your kitchen is empty compared to the hallway, it’s surprising, but then you open a cabinet for the aforementioned bubby and a couple of things come tumbling out. “Whoops,” you say, popping Noah down on the floor. “Can you put those away for me, please? Thank you.”

Noah tries his best, but everything he puts in comes tumbling back out, earning a few high-pitched giggles. You crack the fridge open for a pint of cows milk.

“He doesn’t have formula?”

“No, you can give them whole milk after a year, but he doesn’t really need it anymore, it’s just to help him self-soothe at nighttime.”

“Mom, I can’t do it,” Noah laughs. Steve thinks that great, that laughing. He could’ve had a tantrum (Steve wouldn’t blame him).

Steve crouches down. “Can I help?”

Noah gives Steve a smile, eyes squinting nearly entirely shut. “Yes.”

“Okay, awesome. Looks like your mom needs more cabinets for all your stuff.” He starts to pick up the pieces.

“I need a whole new house,” you say, filling the bottle about three quarters before sticking it in your microwave uncapped. You set the timer for fifteen seconds and prop your chin in your hand, elbow on the counter. Steve thinks it’s your best angle yet, your dress, your arms, the friendly smile you’re wearing that hasn’t once ebbed since the first date. It all gets his chest in a twist.

He knows getting your baby to like him is make or break. And he really wants to give this a shot, you and him, you and Noah. He thinks you’d be good together. (Maybe he’s crazy and too forward, but you really are beautiful in your dress.)

“How’s that?” he asks, closing the cabinet behind a tower of bottles and baby bowls.

“Perfect! Good job, baby,” Noah says, tapping Steve on the knee.

Steve snorts. “Thank you.”

“He’s going through a phase of saying everything I say,” you explain, yanking open the microwave to test the milk on the back of your hand.

You deem the milk sufficiently warmed and offer Noah your hand, swiping a takeout menu from the fridge as you pass, and once again grabbing Steve by the arm to drag him along. He’s content to be dragged. You lead everyone into the living room, and he’s again surprised by how small it is.

You catch his look. “Are you judging me, Harrington?”

“What? No? Of course not.”

“Messing with you. There’s an extension out back, on the kitchen? That’s where I keep the rest of the toys.” You drop down onto the couch with a sigh. “Come here, babe, come cuddle with mommy.”

If Noah weren’t in earshot, Steve would make a joke about how he hopes you aren’t talking to him. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t.

You lay back and Noah climbs up onto one side of you, his hands out ready for his bottle, while your arm stretches out for Steve. “Come ‘n’ sit.”

Steve sits knee to knee with you. He’s not scared of kids, and he isn’t scared of you, either. He knows exactly what he wants, and he isn’t afraid to let you know it, taking your hand where it lies open on your thigh.

“What were you gonna get?” you ask, nodding to the takeout menu.

“I don’t know, I’ll have what you’re having,” Steve says.

“What if you don’t like what I’m having?”

“I’ll learn.”

You tip your chin up at him, beaming. “Yeah? What if I like something completely unamerican?”

“I gotta learn sometime, right?” He squeezes your fingers nicely.

“Well, my Noah likes everything.” You kiss Noah’s forehead, stealing his attention from his bottle, bright eyes tracing your face and then your hand where Steve is rubbing the back of it.

“Then he can have some of everything.”

You and Steve share a loving smile. Smiles smiles smiles, everybody’s getting on, this is the best sixth date anyone’s ever had, best date full stop, though your fifth date was a close second. You and Steve had spent hours together in a park in the city eating picnic foods and soaking in the sun together, your nose brushing off of his ribs, his jacket balled up under your head. He’d kissed you twice that night when you finally, sorrily had to go home, and you’d said, Aw, I really like you, as you held hands on the stoop. He should’ve asked you then to give it a proper go, but now he’s met Noah he figures it’s as good a time as any.

“Hey,” Steve begins, clearing his throat, “would you–”

“Woh!” Noah shouts around the teet of his bottle. It falls from his lips. “We wiw hands,” he garbles, a bunch of baby flavoured gibberish as he leans over your stomach to cover your hand where it’s held in Steve’s. “Mom!”

“What, babe?”

“My hand!”

“You’re not jealous, are you?” you ask with a laugh.

“Mom!” he says, slapping your hands insistently with his own.

Steve loosens your fingers, leaving a gap between your palms. “Quick, bud, put your hand in.”

Noah climbs onto your leg and presses his hand into the fold, though he grows annoyed at the weird fit, and immediately starts to sniffle. Steve winces, but you’re used to it. “Aw, don’t start the waterworks. Come on, what happened to sharing? We’re good sharers.”

Steve lets go of your hand. He’s reluctant, sure, but he doesn’t wanna be on anyone’s bad side. Noah cries for a few seconds like he’s forgotten why he’s upset, but he sees your open palm and the cog finishes turning.

“Hold mommy’s hand,” you say, wiggling your fingers.

Noah thinks about it. He ends up on his side across your leg staring at you, then at Steve, who smiles at him cheerfully. “He’s so handsome,” Steve says. “He has your face. Guess that’s why you’re so handsome, huh?” He shakes his head at Noah gently. “‘Cos you got all your good looks from your mommy.”

“He knows what that means,” you preen, leaning down to speak closer to Noah’s ear. “Don’t you? You’re my handsome boy.”

Noah puts his hand in Steve’s with another tinkling laugh.

“Oh! I see how it is, you wanna be Steve’s friend too. Can’t let me have anything for myself, can you?”

“No,” Noah says cheekily.

Steve collects Noah’s little hand in his. “Good!” he says. “You should get everything you want, just like mom.”

“Think so?” you ask.

Steve nods.

You cover Noah’s eyes with your hand and move up to press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips. “Like you?” you ask.

Steve’s just stoked to have someone he likes actually like him back at the same level. Noah squirms away from your hand to squeeze Steve’s tighter. Two someones.

“Like me,” he says, grinning.

“Mommy, kiss!” Noah says urgently. “Kiss!”

You pull your gaze from Steve’s. “Sorry, I’m sorry! Come here, baby, I’ll give you a kiss too. I guess I’m gonna be giving double the kisses I used to, my poor chapped lips.” You kiss kiss kiss Noah across the forehead.

Steve flusters thinking about it, making a mental note to get you some chapstick. He’d go pretty crazy for a crown of kisses like that.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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rainrot4me · 5 months ago

Text

Clean Knife, Bloody Blade

Summary: When you refuse to get out of bed due to terrible cramps, Jeff tries his best to coax you back. But when you cry and whine to him, the killer presses to resolve your problem, willing to do whatever he can to help…

Characters: Jeff the Killer x Menstruating Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Menstruation, period sex, vaginal with a dildo, toy play, vaginal, mentions of organs, blood, desperation, blood kink, teasing

Words: 3.2k

Jeff was terrible at showing affection.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love you, you knew he did, but to others, they could’ve never guessed. He was always upset, always brooding about something minuscule that would give him an excuse to snap and shrug others off. He was terrible company. But with you, even though subtle, he was calmer and had his head more on his shoulders than normal if you were around.

A calloused hand grasped around your wrist or a half-assed peck on the cheek indicated his affection. To anyone else, it would’ve looked like he was annoyed or had no desire to love you at all, but you knew that this was him trying his hardest to show his feelings. Even though the lack of cuddles and soft compliments itched at you sometimes, Jeff more than made up for it with the bloody carcass of some guy who catcalled you lying on your doorstep or the new pistol he had swiped for you on a mission. Jeff loved you in his own way, and you were more than grateful that he even tried at all, despite what others said.

Jeff always tried his hardest for you, tried more than he cared to for anyone else. And that stood true even now, as you laid in the bed squirming your pain and groaning into his pillows. Jeff was practically clueless. He knew what was happening and that it was nature, but it didn’t make it more comfortable to fuss with you over how dramatic you were being. Or to watch you sob and moan about some blood. Jeff dealt with blood every day, he just didn’t get the theatrics.

Until you began to cry, gripping your stomach as you wore his hoodie and sobbed into his pillow, whining your little heart out. The pale killer was stunned, awkward even as he tried to console you, trying to brush the tears from your eyes. “Just go get Jack. Tell ‘em to get me something.” You whined, rolling over and tugging the covers higher onto your shoulder.

Jeff cringed, scurrying out of his room and down the hall, shooting for EJ’s lab in the hopes that he would have a better chance at getting you to stop than he could. Normally, Jeff would’ve been annoyed, pissed that you preferred to see some other guy than him, but right now he just wanted you better.

“And what does she want me to do about it?” Jack groaned, shuffling through some forceps and scalpels to neatly cut open the human stomach he was working on, trying to push the leftovers of the victim’s last meal out before nibbling on a strip of the raw meat. Jeff cringed, groaning at the way it popped as it tore, squishy in the demon’s mouth. “I don’t fuckin’ know? Just figured you’d be better at this than me. All medical and shit…” The killer scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets, chewing at the tear on his lip. He hated compliments, hated trying to butter someone up, but he sucked it up.

Jack chuckled, pulling his mask back down over his chin before moving, shuffling through a cabinet nestled above his messy desk. There were all sorts of pills inside, little orange and green translucent bottles that read ‘Wright’ and scribbled doctor’s signatures. How someone was giving Jack all of this medicine Jeff didn’t care to ask, he only noticed when Jack pulled down some painkiller in a white bottle, little pink tablets falling out.

“Ibuprofen. Give ‘er like three. Maybe some food too, bad to cramp on an empty stomach.” The commands were giving Jeff whiplash, shoving the bottle into his pocket and staring as Jack circled back to his unfinished plate. “If that doesn’t work, try telling her to masturbate.”

Jeff almost ran into the wall on his way out. What in the actual hell? Jeff tried to laugh as he turned, thinking Jack was joking but his expression was unwavering, gnawing on the tendon of a stomach valve as he smiled. Jeff couldn’t even be mad, stunned more than anything as he let his face show his confusion, letting his mouth hang open. “It’s true. Lulu told me one time. Helps with muscle tension or something. I read up on it a bit but wasn’t relevant to me, so I didn’t care. Guess it’s useful now.” Jack smiled, turning back to his plate and shooing Jeff out, shutting the door behind him as Jeff’s eyes remained wide and stunned, finally clenching his teeth and stomping up the stairs.

You took the pills easily, letting Jeff convince you to eat a muffin before laying back down, groaning as you gripped his arm, legs curled into yourself. He stared down at you, awkwardly gnawing away at the thought Jack had set in his head. Masturbating? While you were bleeding? There was no way that could be enjoyable. But as you nudged your head against his side, wrapping your arms around his waist and pawing at this shirt, Jeff groaned, rubbing your back.

Normally you were a little live wire, a little ball of energy that combatted his anger perfectly. You were perfect for him, emotionally and physically. But seeing that little ball of excitement cripple and falter under your pain made him upset, angered that he couldn’t do anything more. He hated seeing you like this, no matter how reluctant he would be to admit it. Jeff wasn’t a sappy guy, far from it, but right now he would do anything to make his girl feel better.

He started slow, nervous that you’d be too overstimulated to even want him to touch you as he rolled you onto your back, pressing down to kiss along your cheeks. You lay confused, squirming as his hands rubbed your sides, gently gripping and soothing your hot skin. “Jeff… Quit…” You groaned as he pecked your lips, tucking your hair behind your ears as he tugged his hoodie over your head. “Chill out.” He nipped, pressing his rough lips against your soft ones and purposefully holding yours down, calming your reluctant body as he rubbed at your stomach, kissing against your jaw. Your skin was hot, clammy against his hands as he pushed your shirt up, you finally realizing what he was doing.

“Jeff.” You grit, shoving him off as you sat up, irritated that he would even try right now. Jeff awkwardly tried to explain, rubbing your arms as he settled you back onto the bed, standing up to grab a towel in his closet. “Listen. Jack gave me some advice or somethin’. Said jerking off helps with your cramps. We don’t gotta, but…” Jeff also reached for the small bag you kept in his closet, tugging it open and tugging out a dildo around his size, awkwardly shoving the bag back into the closet as you watched, cheeks already flushing. “Jeff, it's nasty.” You warned, bringing your knees to your chest and sliding back as Jeff stood at the edge of the bed, lying the items down before continuing to kiss along your face. “Baby, I cut people up. I think I’ll be okay.” He snickered, lying you back down onto his bed.

You nervously laid, squirming your legs together as Jeff pressed between your knees, standing at the end of the bed. He tugged up your hips, sliding the towel underneath you as he pressed his cool hands along your arms, trailing them up into your shirt as he nipped into your neck. You sighed, skin hot and cunt already bothered as you tried to pry your knees tight around his waist. This was going to be weird regardless, your anxiety about the whole thing shining through as Jeff tugged your shirt over your head, palming at your boobs until you were tugging his hands away. “Sensitive.” You hissed, letting his hands fall back at your hips.

He grit, tugging your shorts down and smiling as you shyly closed in on yourself, turning your face into the sheets as he hooked them off of your ankles. He could already see the blood stained onto your panties, your pad doing little against it. Personally, you wanted to die, embarrassment hooking your every whine as Jeff hooked under your panties, tugging them down and gently massaging your thighs, letting you calm down. It was messy, sure, but the killer knew what he was getting himself into.

You refused to look at him, knees hugged tightly to his sides as he cleaned the blood staining your folds gently as your pelvis ached, cunt tingling under you as Jeff leaned in to kiss your lips, reassuring you coldly. “You’re fine. Stop movin’ so much. It’s just blood.” This was as close as he was getting to gentle, but his words soothed you all the same. You still hid in the sheets, letting Jeff clean your inner thighs as he massaged along your leg, efforts reluctant as you just leaked more.

The sight of your cunt covered in blood didn’t particularly turn Jeff on, but it didn’t disgust him either. It was just you, that stupid personality and all-too-caring attitude that he loved, he didn’t really care what you looked like in turn. He didn’t really mind what was going on between your legs, just as long as he was one of them.

“Open up. There ya go.” He chimed, reaching for the dildo and pressing it to your mouth, beckoning you to listen. You obliged, spreading your lips around the girth and licking along the underside, soaking the silicone in your saliva. Jeff didn’t force it, didn’t push it to make you gag like he loved to do, just let it soak. He smiled at you, nudging his thumb between your folds and pressing against your clit, letting you groan against the toy as he felt your knees loosen around his hips. You had never done anything on your period, always so grossed out and irritated to try, but you could already just feel the difference. It was so much more intense, clit so sensitive under the pad of his thumb that you were holding your eyes shut, hips falling and rising against the movement of the digit. It was heavenly, and Jeff noticed, smiling as you practically ground yourself up against him. “Feel good?” He teased, tugging the dildo out of your mouth and sliding it against your stomach, saliva wiping against your warm skin. You nodded, sighing as he pressed up, hips catching and stuttering against it.

Jeff slid the dildo against your folds, blood catching on the tip and spreading against your inner thighs. He smiled, enjoying how easy it was to push his knee under your thigh and open you up more, movements too lost in the feeling of the dildo halted against your entrance. Jeff held his thumb still, letting the dildo that was a little smaller than his own size begin to push into your aching cunt, cramps pushing out of the way and slowly fading into pleasure as the toy pressed into you. You groaned, a desperate ache of pain and pleasure soaking in as the dildo snugged your walls, pressing against your sensitivity. It just felt so good, entrance aching around the size but the thumb swiping against your clit made up for it.

When Jeff’s fingers gripped around the base of the dildo and touched your folds, you knew it was bottomed out, cunt clenching tight around the intrusion. “Took it good, yeah? Basically pulled it in.” Jeff laughed, tugging the dildo out before slowly rocking it back in, angling the silicone up so it pressed just right against your swollen walls. You whined, back instantly pushing off of the mattress and arching into the feeling, the slowness tearing you apart. “Oh, God-” You groaned, tugging the sheets hard as Jeff fucked you painfully slow with the toy, watching close at how your body moved with it, hips rolling at every push of his hand. He had found a new kink just now, unfortunately.

The killer continued to fuck you with the dildo, contorting and tugging the length so it stretched you nicely, thumb effortlessly making you flinch and squirm as he watched blood slowly leak from your tight entrance, pooling beneath you. It was satisfying, really, the further he pushed the toy the more blood spilled. In Jeff’s sicko brain, it reminded him of stabbing someone, digging his knife in and watching the blood just run, smiling at the irony of it all. He pushed harder.

You were loud now, tears running down your cheeks as you gasped at every shove of the dildo, sensitivity riding on every ounce of pleasure that overwhelmed your senses. Jeff was lost, busy watching your cunt and your screwed-up face, and couldn’t hear your silent sobs to stop or slow down, him only pushing harder. “Jeff- God- Wait, I’m… I think- Ah-” You mewled, letting your cunt squeeze down hard against the toy, walls aching as you came, body squirming and writhing as Jeff still bobbed it in and out as your cunt gushed. It took you sitting up, palming at his shoulders before he would stop, barely even realizing you had came until you were sobbing into his shoulder, dildo slipping out of your soppy cunt as you palmed at his jeans, his boner beckoning you. “Not… not enough. Need it.” You whined, words so jumbled and head so light Jeff thought you were losing it, eyes going wide as he realized what you meant. You still ached, still coming down from your orgasm but walls needing more, needing that relief from the pain again.

“Shit- Ah- Okay. Shit.” Jeff jumbled, stuttering as you eventually tugged his cock out of his jeans and began to stroke, leaning back and tugging him closer. He barely even had time, barely could get hard before you were holding his hips and begging him to push in, blood and your own arousal seeping around the tip of his cock nestled between your folds. “Okay, yeah. Shit-” He couldn’t even think to get a condom, couldn’t tell himself you were probably too post-nut high to realize you were too overwhelmed, but with those big eyes staring at him and your flushed cheeks pouting, he couldn’t help but groan his arousal as he pressed in.

It was warm. Like, warmer than normal, warm. And you were tight too. Your walls fluttered around his cock, swelling against the length that curved and nudged deeper than the dildo, head falling back into the mattress as you moaned out. Jeff cursed, fists gripping your hips tight as he sunk in, watching the blood pool around his cock and seep down onto the towel, your entrance twitching and tightening with every inch that entered. “Needy, huh? You’re so tight, God-” He grunted, straining as he bottomed out and let your hips squirm against his, already beckoning him to move. It was like you were in heat, body more focused on how fast you could cum again than if you even wanted to. It turned Jeff on terribly bad. This version of you was exciting.

Like the dildo, he let his hips rock, bending his knees to angle into your cunt better and sink against your g-spot so nicely, leaving your arms clasped into his hair and dragging him down on top of you. Your skin was so hot, flushed deep as he locked his lips onto yours, rocking his hips into your soppy cunt and relishing in the way it gushed around him. He pushed up, digging his knees into the mattress and letting your thighs wrap around his back, his cock sinking further down and into you as your body contorted under him. You were scrunched, clasping onto his body desperately as you chased another orgasm, stomach fluttering and hips rocking with every movement. “So good- Can’t… Can’t hold on- Faster-” You huffed between slobber-filled kisses, letting Jeff dig his palms into the sheets underneath you and push his knees in deeper, letting his hips pull up much further and sink down just as deep. You were practically purring, mouth hanging open as Jeff bit into your jaw, nibbling the skin as he panted against you, shoving his cock into the hot glove of your cunt.

“Beg me to fuck you and you’re still not satisfied. Jesus, woman.” Jeffrey grit through pants, leaning back off of you and digging his hands into your waist, tugging his legs further apart to open yours more before snapping his hips into your warmth, hearing the loud squelch and squirts as you writhed, moaning into your hands. Jeff smiled, clawing his hands to your tits and palming hard, letting you scratch and whine at his grasp about sensitivity and to let off, but he refused. You were so sensitive, so overwhelmed that the ache in your pelvis practically vanished, pleasure rippling through your body as you arched and squirmed against the cock quickly pressing down against every inch of your gummy walls. You were cumming again, sobbing as you scratched Jeff’s muscled arms and held on tight, letting his cock fuck you through your desperate orgasm and fight against the overstimulation that crept through your body.

“There ya go, just like that. Don’t even gotta worry.” Jeff mewled, letting his cock sink deep and rest in your cunt, your walls clenching hard around him, fluttering as he twitched and ached inside of you, restraining to cum until your sobs quieted, little whines and gasp all that was left. “Did so good.” He grits as he tugged his cock out, the length soaked and stained in your blood and arousal, fist quick to grasp around and pump himself over you, watching as you panted with heavy eyes. The blood stained his hand, smearing as he came against your folds, letting his seed run and mix with your blood as he groaned, palming at your thighs. “Fuck.. yeah…” He smiled, rubbing his tip against your clit for good measure before tugging back, scooping the messy towel out and cleaning what he could.

You were too sleepy to hear the bath run in the room over, body still twitching and relaxing as your cramps stayed at a dull roar now, pleasure overtaking them. Jeff scooped you up, his body bare now as he stripped the rest of your clothes, cutting the faucet off before sliding you both into the large tub, letting your back rest against his chest. You mewled, leaning back against his shoulder and letting your eyes flutter shut, rubbing the arms that wrapped around your waist. “Thank you.” You sighed, the hot water soothing your body nicely. “It was hot, so worth it.” Jeff chuckled, tucking your hair out of the way as he kissed your forehead.

You knew he cared. He had strange ways of showing it, ever reluctant to become soft and vulnerable. But you relished the moments where he got close, like now. Maybe Jeff wasn’t the most affectionate, sappy guy to have, but it was more than enough for you.

Even if he was terrible at showing affection, the dedication to you more than paid its part.

This was a request by @bubbleduckie!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

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