#ROOT BEER SIGHTINGS

[mugrootbeer]

CAN OF "MUG ROOTBEER" SPOTTED IN SEINFELD SEASON 08 EPISODE 16, "THE POTHOLE"

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

"I'm Taking That As A Yes, Princess"

PAIRINGS: Ghostface!FratPresident!James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: Getting alcohol spilt on you, fingering, a bit angsty? (if you squint), semi-bathroom sex, swering, unprotected sex (darlings, please wrap your man's pig in a blanket), p in v, mentions of cum, handjob, a slight hint of a blowjob and slight fluff? (If I have missed anything, please feel free to let me know 😊)

WORD COUNT: 2,922

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

Walking into the house, you were immediately surrounded by sweaty, sticky bodies. You grimaced at the overwhelming feeling and tried to find a space where you could catch your breath. The kitchen was relatively empty, except for a couple making out on the counter. You decided to mind your own business, reaching into the fridge and navigating past cans and bottles of beer to grab a water bottle hidden at the back.

You twisted the cap off and took a long sip. Everyone was dressed up differently, which made sense—it was Halloween. Instead of babysitting your little cousins, you’d faked being sick to your parents, dressed up, and come to the Alpha Phi house. This wasn’t like you at all. The top student in your class, the teacher’s pet, the early-assignment submitter, the girl who became a TA in her junior year—you were the “good girl.”

So why were you here? Because you’d overheard some girls talking about the infamous Halloween party that the Alpha Phi guys threw every year. And you weren’t the type who usually went to parties. So why this one? Because you’d heard that Steve Rogers was going to show up, and you had a little crush on the star player of the varsity ice hockey team. You’d been trying to muster the courage to talk to him ever since you sat next to him in a lab in your first year. That was two years ago, and you’d been harbouring feelings for him ever since.

Your heart did a little flip every time he smiled at you when you passed him in the halls. Finishing your water, you threw the bottle in the recycling bin and tugged your tutu down to avoid a wedgie. The ballerina costume was a last-minute, twenty-dollar buy, but you were happy with it—the corseted top accentuated your chest, and though the sheer tights were a bit snug, it didn’t bother you too much.

You were making your way through the crowd and spotted a tuft of blond hair. Your heart flipped again. This was it, the perfect moment. You were going to ask Steve if he wanted to go out sometime. He was tipsy enough to say yes, and if he said no, he’d be too focused on his hangover tomorrow to remember your question. You took a deep breath and started toward him.

Then you saw them. You’d thought the rumours weren’t true, that they couldn’t be real. But the sight of Steve Rogers making out with Peggy Carter would be forever etched in your mind, because the pain in your heart was unbearable. You stood frozen, your heart thudding in your chest as you watched Steve's hands roam over Peggy’s body. You clenched your jaw and sniffled, rooted to the spot.

You only snapped out of it when someone spilled their drink on you. “Damn, sorry, gorgeous,” a guy dressed as Fred from Scooby-Doo winked at you drunkenly before chuckling and moving away. You shook your head, trying to clean the alcohol off your costume.

“Hey, buddy. I think you owe the girl a real apology,” another voice piped up. You looked up to see a towering figure dressed as Ghostface, holding Fred by the shoulder. “Now, say you’re sorry—like you really mean it, and none of that half-assed stuff because you’re shitfaced,” Ghostface ordered, crossing his arms. Fred straightened up, looked you in the eye, and apologized sincerely. Ghostface nodded approvingly and sent him away.

Before you realized it, Ghostface had moved closer to you. You turned to see him looking you over, his mask bobbing as if inspecting your costume. He clicked his tongue and put a hand on the small of your back. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You both walked upstairs, where the sounds of the party gradually faded, and you were grateful for the quiet. You hesitated when he opened a door and gestured for you to go in.

For the first time that night, you spoke up. “Um, I’m sorry, but I don’t even know who you are.”

The chuckle that followed freaked you out a little, but then he reached up to remove the mask.

James. Freaking. Barnes.

You tried your best to mask your surprise, but you were sure he saw it, because the corners of his lips lifted into a smirk.

James “Bucky” Barnes—the captain of the varsity ice hockey team, a good student, a charmer, the president of Alpha Phi, and most importantly, the best friend of Steve Rogers.

You’ve met James a few times here and there. During some of the varsity games. And passed him in the dorms sometimes. He never caused you any trouble. He even offered to help you move-in in your second year when he clearly saw you struggle push your luggage up the stairs.

You were just acquaintances.

You swallowed and timidly walked into the pristine room, surprised by its immaculate condition. “I certainly didn’t expect a frat president to have such a clean room,” you muttered, hearing James laugh at your comment as he closed the door.

“Well, I don’t work well in a messy environment,” he shrugged and walked closer, his gaze trailing over your corset. You backed up slightly at the intensity of his approach, making him huff a laugh. “I don’t bite, princess,” he said, his fingers grazing the edge of your corset.

He gently guided you to the adjoining bathroom. “I’ll have to wash it out a bit. So, if you don’t mind getting your tutu a little damp, princess…,” he led, waiting for your response. You shook your head, signalling it was fine. He nodded toward the counter, and you hopped onto it.

He wetted a towel and began dabbing it on your clothes. “So, what’s a timid thing like you doing at a fraternity party?” he whispered, his focus on cleaning up the stain. You glanced at his concentrated face before looking away. “What? Can’t a girl come to a party?” you replied, defensively, for some reason.

James chuckled, “Oh, a girl can come to a party. But you, you’re not that type of girl, princess.” You raised an eyebrow at him, puzzled by his statement. “I mean, you never come to parties in general. So why the sudden appearance?” He sighed and caged you between his arms.

You tensed, starting to stammer. “Well, I wanted to see someone,” you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

“Yeah?” James asked, his gaze piercing. “Who was the special guy?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, then quickly looked away. He used two fingers to tilt your face toward him. “Eyes on me, princess,” he said softly.

“Steve. I came to ask Steve out…,” you admitted, spilling your secret.

James looked at you with you look, you couldn’t decipher what it was. But you didn’t know what to feel about it. He looked into your eyes for so long, you started to tear up due to the lack of blinking.

“Steve…,” he dragged it, and it made you wonder why. But you didn’t question it.

He continued to dab the wet cloth to your clothes. “You didn’t have to do that you know… The, um, asking the guy to apologize to me,” you broke the silence, because you couldn’t take the stuffy air that was in between the both of you.

James shook his head and chuckled as he dabbed on your neckline. “If I didn’t my Ma would scold my ear off if she knew. And, besides, a pretty girl needs to be treated right.”

You’re breathing stops at that, and you looked up at him with a confused look. He smirked at your expression, “what?” You shook you head and asked him, “you think I’m pretty?”

James scoffed and nodded, “I would have to be blind if I didn’t think your stunning, princess.”

You didn’t realise but your lips and James’ were a hair breadths away. “James…,” you tried to start but James beat you to it, “Bucky, princess. Call me Bucky.”

You gulped and nodded.

“Bucky.”

He groaned at they way his named sounded on your tongue. “Princess, your killin’ me here,” he whispered more to himself than at you. His knuckles gripped onto the counter tight. “Please…,” he muttered.

“Pardon?” you didn’t catch what he said.

“Please let me kiss you.”

You froze, you didn’t know what to do.

You always thought Bucky was hot. Hotter than Steve, but you never had any classes with him to fully judge him. You were a hundred percent sure that if Bucky was your lab partner instead of Steve, you’d totally be crushing on Bucky instead.

And if that were the case, you’d be nodding your head like a mad man. Steve was taken, you were still recovering from that. Bucky, apparently, liked you. Liked you more than you thought he did.

You saw the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to you lips and back to your eyes. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and saw his pupils dilate at the movement.

“I-,” you started but your thoughts were washed away when you saw Bucky lick his lips too. You heart thuds in your chest as you feel like the whole world is dark and the spotlight is just on you with the way Bucky looks like you. There’s a small part of you that wanted to feel how his lips would feel against you.

So, you nodded.

Before you knew it, Bucky was standing between your legs and gripping your hips. He then pulled you close and smashed his lips on yours. You took a second to understand what was going on, but when your conscious did come back to you cupped his face and kissed him back.

He licked at your bottom lip asking your permission to open up your mouth and you allowed it immediately. Soon your tongues were dancing together, yours was meek and shy letting Bucky do all the taking over. You wrapped your arms around his neck and whimpers against his mouth, which just made him groan against you.

He moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck. You tilted your head to give him more access, and the more you let him the more your whimpers turn to moans.

He moves his hands all over your body, “this okay, princess?” He whispered against your skin, and you nodded fervently and grasped at his black cloak. You felt him palm at your chest, and you sighed and whispered a, “more, Bucky, please.” He nodded against your skin and moved his hands up your thighs and squeezes the flesh of your thighs.

You felt the heat pool between your things and squeezed them together. Bucky smirked and pushed them away, “nuh uh, none o’ that.” He got closer to you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips and chuckled. His hands moved to your inner thighs, and you gasped out, the wetness pooling more into your underwear.

You felt his knuckles brushed against your core and you whimpered and dropped your head against his shoulder. “Please, Bucky,” you muttered against his costume. Without any other word he ripped your tights at the centre and felt the wet path of white cotton.

“Oh princess, so wet f’me already?” Bucky snickered and you nodded at his question.  He rubbed his knuckles against your cunt’s lips and pressed his fingers harder when he heard your soft mewl. “You like it don’t you, princess?” To which you nodded again and whispered his name breathlessly.

He pushed your underwear aside and sunk his thick fingers in, and you whined at the intrusion. The sweet stretch felt better than your own meek fingers and soon Bucky was pumping his fingers in and out making your legs shake. “I’m not even rubbing your clit, princess. Your legs are already shaking,” he whispered roughly against your ear.  

His thumb started to rub at your clit and that’s when you lost your mind. You mewled and moaned his name as his fingers were rubbing that deep spot in you and his thumb playing with your button has you becoming a wailing mess. He bends down and started to attack your neck. “Fuck, Bucky. Please,” you cried out as you feel your impending orgasm start to build at your core.

Bucky roughly rubbed at your clit and within seconds your gushed around his fingers. You sighed and untensed your shoulders. Bucky brought his fingers to his mouth, closed his eyes and licked them clean. You whimpered at the sight.

You both leaned in and captured the other in a deep kiss, Bucky picked you up like you weighed nothing and exited the bathroom and walked until he placed you down on his bed.

He pulled the Ghostface mask down and leaned to tower over you. You bit your lip, and he chuckled, “didn’t know princess was a bit freaky, hmm?” He unbuckled his belt under the cloak, and you took off your tutu and tossed it somewhere in his room.

When he managed to get his cock out of his pants, your eyes widened as the sheer size of him and then looked at him to see the small smirk that was painted on his lips. “Something wrong, princess?” You gulped and said, “it’s not gonna fit.”

Bucky chuckled and leaned over you once more and whispered into your ear, “we’ll make it fit, princess.” The tone he used made you shiver, and you gripped onto his shoulders and readied yourself. Bucky ran his shaft up and down you’re sit and you whined desperately.

“Bucky, please. I need you,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back. He tapped your cheek with two fingers and said, “eyes on me, princess.” And with that Bucky slowly pushed inside you. The stretch was so deliciously sweet and painful it made you lose your mind. You both gasped at the feeling of him moving further into you.

“Fuck, princess. You’re so tight,” he grits out as he starts to slowly thrust in and out of you. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and your nails raked down his back and he let out a deep moan which made goosebumps raise on your skin.

The sound of skin slapping on skin wasn’t’ as loud as your wails of Bucky’s name and moans. When the tip of him tapped against that spot in you, your eyes rolled to the back of your mind and you squealed, “Bucky right there, oh! Right there!”

Bucky grabbed a hold of the headboard and thrusted harder into you, aiming at that same spot and you felt tears run down the side of face in pleasure. “Fuck, princess. Gripping me like a vice,” he purses his lips as he knocked his hips against yours.

You felt the sheer length of him move in and out of you, your walls embraced him like he was meant to be there in the first place. “Attagirl. Take what I give you, yeah?” He huffed against your ear. The coarse patch of pubic hair that rested at the bottom of his happy trail, rubbed against your clit giving your that nice friction and it made you whine even more.

He pressed a hand against your abdomen and pressed down harder and it made the feeling even better. He saw how you reacted and pressed down harder, and you arched your back at the feeling. With that you felt the climax in you start to rise, “Bucky, I’m so close.” You whimpered as you watched the man wearing the Ghostface mask rut into you expertly.

He threw your legs over his shoulders and rutted into your harder, the band at your core bends and bends until it finally snapped and soon you were coming around Bucky’s cock.

Bucky groaned deeply at you squeezing him tightly, he pulled out and you whined at the loss of the feeling. He was fisting his length at the sight of you post orgasmic bliss and it looked so hot from your perspective. You quickly got on your knees and replaced Bucky’s hand with yours. “Fucking hell, princess,” he ran a hand through your hair and bunched it up at the back of your head. “That’s it, making me feel so good,” he sighed and threw his head back.

He groaned when you parted your lips, the mushroom head of his member inches away from your mouth. He tipped his head back, “fuck I’m so close.” And soon you felt his warm spent spill down your throat. Bucky moaned at the sight, and his chest reverberated deeply when he saw you swallow.

He pushed you down to lay on your back again and he then he laid next to you. You reached up and took of his Ghostface mask so you can his face. “That desperate to see my face? Hmm?” He smirked at your action. You shook your head and chuckled shyly, “maybe.”

Bucky reached up and caressed your face. “You know you’re really pretty right, princess?” You blushed at his comment, “buy me dinner first, Barnes.” Bucky chuckled and then nodded, “are you free this weekend?”

You froze, “you can’t be serious.”

“Well, I kinda am.”

“You are a piece of work James Barnes,”

“Should I take that as a, yes?”

You chuckled and shook your head; you gave him a soft smile.

“I’m taking that as a yes, princess.”

🎀🎀🎀

A fic posted during the midst of exam period?!

I would like to thank @buck-star for helping me with coming up with this idea!

This took a while and it's ALOT, but late night productivity hit me like a freight train haha.

I've one more exam in the next week and I'll be done!

Hope you lovelies liked this!

Lemme know what y'all think of the fic!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[eclipseslayer]

SIT. DRINK.

➭ TOJI FUSHIGURO X F!READER SMUT ONESHOT

➭ SUMMARY: Your dad calls you over to sit in front of him, and he orders you to finish off his beer. Enthused with your obedience, he takes advantage of that.

➭ CW: DARK CONTENT. Incest, forced drinking, cockwarming, deep throating, Toji is meanish, Toji calls you 'kid' and 'sweetheart'.

➭ WC: 1.5kish

➭ A/N: Hello! I've done a drabble with icky!dad!Toji before, and honestly I really like doing them... so I'm wondering if I should make a series/compilation or something with icky!dad!Toji?? 👀 lmk in the comments or my ask box!! :) N e wayz enjoyyy.

"Come 'ere. Sit."

Toji points at the floor in front of him with his beer bottle, and you look up from your book you're reading.

Your eyes widen and you swallow thickly, knowing your dad wants something. It always puts a little fear in you, because your dad is disgusting. He's a grumpy, divorced, old man who got stuck with some kid out of wedlock, who happened to be you, so now he treats you like some sort of object, something to be used.

As much as you loathe him for it, a part of you actually loves it, though you don't think you'd ever admit that to yourself, at least, not out loud.

You close your book, and you get up. You slowly walk over to him, carpet brushing against the soles of your feet as you drag them, trying to take your time as you walk over to the old man.

Toji sees you taking your sweet time and he scoffs. He points to the floor again, and his beer sloshes in his bottle.

"I said, sit," his tone is harsher this time, almost spitting out his words.

With a huff, you nod and you pick up your pace. You then plop yourself onto your knees in front of your dad, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, already knowing what he wants.

He leans back against the couch to get a good view of you. A wry grin appears etched onto his face as that scar of his quirks up, and those green eyes of his darken while a drunken gaze drinks in the sight of you.

His gaze makes you nervous, as you hardly ever know what he wants from you. You know you're here to be used, but you just don't know how, and that's what makes you so nervous. His jade eyes always make your heart thump in your chest as they always have something conniving cooking.

Suddenly, he thrusts his bottle out to you and he presses the glass opening of it against your lips. You blink quickly as you catch a quick whiff of the beer—cheap, and wheaty—and look back up at him.

"Drink. Finish this off for me."

"I—" You're about to try to defend yourself, as you're not looking to drink tonight, but your dad tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly. He reaches out and grips the root of your hair with his free hand and pushes your mouth against the tip of the glass bottle, forcing it into your mouth.

"I said, drink. Jesus, are you having a hard time hearing me tonight?" He mutters, and his words slur, clearly drunk.

You let out a whine and a grumble and you tilt your head back, allowing for the liquid to pour into your throat. There's about a half of the bottle left, so Toji makes you chug it, and he watches with narrowed as eyes as you drink.

"There we go... good girl..."

Fuck. You hated it when he praised you. He only praised you whenever you did his "evil" bidding, which is why you didn't mind doing it so much. You loved the praise, and he knew it, which is why you're so obedient to him. It's a constant cycle of you needing praise, and receiving it after you do something for him, and, you couldn't get enough. Sometimes, some of the things he made you do felt so good that you truly hadn't minded at all.

It was toxic, but... you honestly couldn't get enough of it, which is also why you hadn't moved out of the house yet.

His praise was addicting.

Once you finish the beer, your mouth leaves the bottle with a satisfying pop, and Toji hums. He runs a hand through your hair and sighs as he places the empty bottle with the rest of them, on the stand next to the couch.

He pats your face with a large, calloused hand and sighs, leaning against the couch again. His large frame takes up the majority of it, and his thick long legs are spread out in a man-spread.

He reaches down into his pants and you hear the faint sound of scratching. He yawns, looking at the TV briefly before turning his head back to you. You look at him, awaiting further instructions, and he chuckles, and you assume another idea has popped into his head.

"You got an oral fixation, right, sweetheart?" He slurs, and, honestly doesn't care if you do or not as he starts pulling down his sweatpants, the hem of them fits around his thighs so well.

"I... yes, I do," you reply, watching him as he now takes his hand and slides down his underwear around his thighs, as he reveals his, big, hard cock, sitting heavily on his stomach.

Toji raises an eyebrow and he hiccups. He nods and sighs. "That's right... I knew ya did, kid. I know you like suckin' on my dick, but you just don't wanna admit it, right?" He grins, and he watches as you shift on your knees, your gaze averting his. His grin widens.

"Ah, knew it," he sighs, and he leans forward with his cock in one hand, and presses the tip against your mouth, and, so willingly, you open it up for him, accepting him into your mouth.

He groans once he feels your warm, wet mouth, and he closes his eyes, leaning his head back. He takes a minute before he looks down at you.

"Just keep your mouth like this for me while I watch TV. I'll get you a fuckin' candy bar or somethin' if you suck me off," he chuckles, and you furrow your eyebrows because he still treats you like a little kid, rewarding you with dumb shit.

Nevertheless, you sigh, accepting this as you keep him in your mouth. Not like you're going to complain anyway. This was one of your favorite things to do for your dad, simply because it just felt so good to have something so thick fill up your mouth.

So, you sit for awhile as he leans back against the couch, watching TV. You don't move your mouth—just enjoying how good he feels—for about ten minutes until you feel your jaw start to hurt.

That's when you start moving your head, pushing your mouth all the way to his pelvis, and then pulling back until you're suckling on his tip.

Toji groans at this and turns his head back to you. He sighs, and he grips your hair, and begins guiding your wet mouth along his cock.

He revels in the feeling of your mouth, enjoying how tight and warm it gets when you hallow your cheeks, and when you do that little thing with your tongue.

His head leans back, looking down at you as he admires how good you look, sucking on his cock. Sure, it was wrong, but that was why he drank, to get the mental block out of his head so he could easily get his dick wet. You were never one to say no. Hell, he wasn't sure why you were so easy, but he wasn't going to knock the opportunity.

You, on the other hand, are having such a good time as you moan softly on his cock, loving the feeling of how good he feels in your mouth. He feels so good that you're drooling on his cock, making a mess of it all over his length. You soon add your hand to the mix, pumping the length of his shaft while your mouth drools all over the tip, licking and sucking so fervently that it has Toji cursing under his breath.

"Shit, kid, fuck, your mouth does such a good job..." He groans and a big hand grips your hair tightly once more, guiding you along his cock, except, he decides to cruelly change the pace up, making it so his cock hits the back of your throat.

You let out a gag in surprise, your eyes widening and your hands quickly move to grip his thighs. His thick cock bullies into the back of your throat as you let out choked moans.

Saliva coats his dick, and drips down to his balls as you're uncontrollably salivating all over him, simply because that big tip of his bruises the back of your throat, allowing for no control over your mouth.

He groans with almost every thrust, and his breath gets heavy. He chuckles as he sees you struggle to take him, your hands gripping his thighs so tightly that he finds it so hilarious as he lets out yet another mean chuckle.

"That's right... gonna cum in this mouth, yeah? How's that for ya?" He grins wickedly, and, with one, two, three more thrusts, he slams your nose against his pelvis, leaving you choking on his dick as his cum suddenly spurts into your mouth. Load after load fills your throat, and you swallow it quickly.

Your nose scrunches up at the taste, as it damn near tastes like battery acid from the amount of beer he just had. You want to choke it up, but you know better, and so you swallow each spurt of cum until he rips his cock out of your throat.

He watches with a satisfied gaze as you choke for air, leaning over his thighs.

"Good girl." He reaches down into his pants pocket and fishes out a couple yen bills. "Go buy a candy bar at the corner store or somethin'. I don't fuckin' know."

[bunny-jpeg]

max verstappen, blueberry bars, belgian waffles, tim bits with margarita and root beer. like, reader is max's naive and innocent best friend and he does this without her knowledge, asleep or drugs. she ends up preg and max convinces her that it sometimes happens and promises to take care of her.

bakery menu

want to submit an order? the bakery is open! submit your orders and i'll try to get through them as fast as possible. been a bit of a slow period because of the holdays/end of the year, but i'm making a comeback with 'em since they are very popular with ya'll! i was immediately drawn to this one, i love a good dark fic and i knew i had to write it! so thank you, thank you! enjoy <3

blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.” + belgian waffles: "i cum in that every night." + tim bits: "stupid little thing." + margarita: unprotected sex + root beer: filming/recording served by max verstappen!

tags: smut/pwp, dark fic/dark themes, filming/recording, unprotected sex, breeding& pregnancy, best friend!reader, non-con somophilia, innocent!reader, mad!max, drugging

the sight of you was beautiful, there was something about your sleeping form that drove him mad. max knew that he could have any woman he desired, but why would he desire them when he could have you. you pulled him in, but even after years of friendship. you never seemed to notice max's advances, and he was getting desperate.

earlier in the evening you complained about not being able to sleep. you were visiting your best friend who was happy to house you in his apartment in monaco, so when max handed you a dainty little pill and told you to have a good night, you happily took it. and when your soft snores could be heard from the doorway of the bedroom, max felt himself getting arousing.

you looked like an innocent princess, and max believed himself to be the prince who will protect you. even if that meant having his hands under your shirt while you were asleep. a prince deserved a reward didn't he?

you laid under the sheet, which max pulled off slowly. you were in a thin tank top and underwear. he felt his heartbeat leap at the sight of you. he took out his phone to take photos.

he chuckled to himself lowly, "i cum in that every night." a cheeky joke as he had spent the last week slipping you a little pill and having his wicked way with you once you were asleep. you were quite nice when you were asleep, so much softer. it only made max yearn for you more. he wanted you, you were just too beautiful. he groaned as he felt tension in his sweatpants, "stupid little thing."

there was hunger inside of him, he needed you. wanted you in carnal ways that he couldn't put into words. the sight of you, he took more photos as he got his cock out of his sweatpants and rubbed it against your now bare stomach. he shuddered, "beautiful little thing. so stupid. need someone to protect you. you need to be saved don't you? well that's what i'm here for." he then got your panties down around your ankle and exposed your entire form to him.

it was only right for him to admire every inch of you, you were going to be his wife. the mother of his child. he said softly, “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.” and you shifted a little, it excited him as he got between your legs. he felt the rush through him as he sank his cock into you.

he had been doing this every night for a week now. every evening like ritual, he made sure you were tucked in, only for him to peel back the sheets and fuck you with a feverish want while you sleep. max had enough of beating around the bush with your love, he was a man of action.

and all he needed was for two little cells to meet before that action became a plan. some would call it baby trapping, but he'd call it a promise of commitment. you weren't going to do it alone, you'd have max every step of the way. he'd even retired to make sure that you and his baby were taken care of.

he could feel the pleasure through his body as he moved against you. he held your legs wrapped around him as he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. he snatched his phone up from the bed and snapped photos and took a small video of his cock being rocked in and out of you. he let out a small groan as the pleasure seeped into his blood. you felt amazing, he eyed your sleeping form as he picked up the pace a little bit more. he filmed a little more and let himself just enjoy the feeling of your slick cunt.

it was like a warm vice that pulled him in further. he took it as a sign that your body wanted it. you wanted this too, to carry his child. of course you did, you were so innocent and sweet. bordering on naive that max knew that you'd want a baby. a chubby little verstappen baby at your hip, you'd make a good mother.

and max knew that, even if you didn't at that moment.

he groaned lightly as he held onto your hips. he felt the climbing warmth in his body as he fucked you. feeling your body against his. your sleeping form was like the future in his eyes. he could imagine your wedding, having your family. you being the perfect wife for him. it was only destiny for the two of you, you had been friends for ages.

he knew everything about you, no other man would be able to compare. to think they could would be stupid to think, you were meant to be with max. for him to dote, love and protect. you didn't need to do anything else besides be his wife and the mother of his children. he had already made enough money to sustain a full house for three lifetimes. you deserved a man who could provide, max knew you 'dated', but they never lasted long. they didn't deserve to be with a woman like you. an angel from the heavens brought to earth.

"i love you." he said, "even when you don't see it. i know you do, i know you love me. you want me badly, but you don't think you're good enough. hopefully when i get you pregnant you can realize that i love you. i need you." his breathing was heavy as he thrusted against you.

there was no protection between you two and honestly he didn't need it. 'protection' wouldn't get you pregnant, wouldn't keep you as his. plus, it felt so much better bare-back. to feel the closeness to you. fill you with his seed and let it take root inside of you. then maybe you'd come to your senses.

maybe he could've done it a different way, but why would we do that? you looked so peaceful, he knew you weren't getting sleep. and max, the dutiful husband, would always make sure that you were alright. he just happened to want your sweet cunt wrapped around his hard cock at the same time. who could blame him, your pussy was the kind to salivate over like a hungry dog.

to love you, in his own twisted way, was a sign of utter devotion. even in your sleep, he would protect you. he knew what was right, and had convinced himself that breeding you while asleep was the best course of action. it'll prove that max is the man you need in your life, the protector. you were so innocent at times, anyone could hurt you!

but not max, at least in his logic.

you cunt felt amazing around his cock. his heart hammered in his chest a she rocked against you. he panted heavily as he moved against you. he held onto your thighs firmly and the dirty talk spilled from his lips. it was hard to make it stop at the feeling of your cunt like a vice around his cock. he rutted up into your further, as deep as he could go, as he said, "you're a fucking good girl. always did everything right, you were so trusting. that's why i have to keep you with me. close to me, where you belong. you're my wife, i knew that from the moment i met you. but the older we get, the further you're getting. time to bring you home. you, me and baby." his voice was hushed, but his words were protective and loving. or his version of loving.

if anyone saw or heard what he was doing. they'd be in shock, but they didn't understand. they didn't get how much you meant to him. he spent so much time trying to find you in other women, but why bother with them when he had you. all of you.

and soon there would be a product of your love. your union together. that only made him work his hips faster against you. you remained limp under him as he drilled his cock into you. your let out a small moan in your deep sleep and it made max near drool as he finished inside of you.

he thrusted quickly against you and felt all semblance of control start to slip. he was left hungry, near feverish from the intensity of the pleasure. he loved it, just as he loved you. of course the love of his life would have a cunt that drove him to near insanity.

he soon finished inside of you after the pleasure took hold. he clutched onto you tightly and felt the intense heights of pleasure. he let out a loud moan before he slowed to a stop. he wiped his sweaty brow and eyed your still sleepy form. it made his cock twitch inside of you for a moment.

he leaned in to kiss you on the lips before he pulled away to get you re-clothed and tucked back in. before he left the room, he kissed you on the face once more and said,

"everything i do. i do for you."

-

you were in tears weeks later, you showed max the pregnancy test when fear in your eyes. and while you looked distraught, max looked excited. the test clattered on the floor as max took you in his strong arms and kissed your face.

"how..how did this happen?" you asked meekly.

max replied with a wide smile, "don't worry about it! it's our little miracle! you and the baby won't go without. we'll have to get a bigger place, and move your stuff back home. or i can buy you new things since you'll be going through so much change... and then of course, i have to marry you. it's only right!" he was already talking like you two had planned this pregnancy.

but it was hard to do much thinking when max held you so protectively. you held onto the front of his shirt and rubbed your face against his chest. you exhaled deeply, still feeling shaken to your core. you held on tightly like a lifeline, knowing that max's child was growing in your womb. a part of you wondered if the things you were feeling late into the night weren't dreams after all. <3

[avocado-writing]

Avo please 😔 do the DP&W fandom some justice.

Please please give us a Deadpool and Logan Eiffel Tower fic (or just headcanons whatever works best for you 💜)

rated e. smut & fluff. minors dni.

There are ups and downs to all aspects of the relationship, you suppose. 

The downs tend to be pretty dramatic: Wade says something thoughtless, or goading, or just plain irritating, and Logan tends to react… explosively. The snik of claws appearing has become a sort of soundtrack to your day. Usually you can intercede in time to calm tensions down but when you can’t, well, they usually end up breaking not only each other’s bones but the furniture too. 

At least you only buy the flat-pack stuff. 

You’ll inevitably tell them both off and force them to repair what’s been smashed, and after a couple of hours and a few drinks they’re in each other’s good books again: Wade is cursing at the SKOGSTA and Logan is trying to suppress an affectionate smile behind a beer. 

But when it’s good? Man, it’s fucking great. The three of you have an unmatched synergy. A lot of your friends are jealous of how easy things are for you, how the pieces just sort of fell into normalcy after your time in the Void. Your favourite place to be is with your legs slung up over Logan’s thighs on the sofa, face buried in your mercenary’s lap, some shitty movie on that Wade keeps trying to guess the twist to. 

And then there are nights like tonight, nights where brief touches throughout the day evolve into caresses evolve into gropes. Inevitably you’re thrown onto the bed, and it’s not much of a wait before one of you is between the others. 

Tonight it’s your turn to be spoiled. 

Logan’s hands dig into your hips so hard you’re scared his claws will flick out. Actually, scratch that, you’re not scared; the idea of it makes you so wet you’re pretty sure he can feel it on his cock. You love it when he loses control. He slams into you even harder when you let out a choked-off little moan, your pleasure only beckoning the beast out further. 

Wade cups your jaw in his hand, angling it open a little further so he can press deeper into your throat. When he’s happy with the angle he slides his grip down to your neck so he can feel himself fucking you there. 

“Fuck, aren’t you a pretty sight, baby?” he hums, running his thumb around the seam of your lips where drool starts to spill. “You should see the way you’re taking his cock. People would pay by the hour to watch that.” He tilts his head to the side, a thought taking root. “Hmm, actually, that’s not a bad idea. Think there’s a market for mutant porn? Nightcrawler must have an OnlyFans, right?”

You slap his thigh to get his attention back. This is why you like him in the middle. Logan can keep his mouth occupied with his thick cock, you can fuck him with your favourite strap. Either way it’s difficult for him to talk. 

You do find it pretty endearing though, all things considered. Bastard, you think, lovingly. 

Logan growls, and for a second you’re not sure if it’s in agreement or aggravation. Luckily he’s quick to clarify. 

“He’s right. You take me so fucking well. Pretty fucking pussy was made for me. Us,” he mutters, voice so gravelly it could pave a driveway. You moan around Wade’s dick at his filthy mouth, clutching the sheets so tight they threaten to rip as he doubles his pace. His cock pistons in and out of you making a wet sound which fills the bedroom and you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking turned on. With every thrust you’re pushed forward, taking Wade so far down your throat that your eyes start to water. 

Messy and desperate is how they like you, and you kinda agree with them. 

Then Logan’s movement pauses for a second, something you know only happens when he’s been met with something totally astounding. 

“Wha… Wade, I’m not gonna give you a fucking high five.”

You pull back, looking to see where Wade is lowering his hand, pouting. 

“Come on, Peanut. You know you want to.”

“Wade, what the fuck?” you ask. “Don’t be weird about this, I’ll bite your dick off.”

“Okay well you did that before and it made me cum, so that’s not the threat you think it is, sweetheart. Besides this right here? This is the best thing ever. Just wanted to find some camaraderie with my boo in the moment. C’mon, you won’t leave me hanging, will you?”

He holds his hand out to you, and you pause for a moment - well aware Logan is still balls deep inside your soaking cunt - before giving in and slapping it. Yeah. This is pretty great, to be fair. Wade pumps his fist in triumph. 

“Knew it! You never let me down. Not even after the dick biting.”

“You actually asked for that, honey.”

“I did! I’m known for my fat ass and incredible ideas.”

A noise makes the two of you turn around. It’s Logan, but, contrary to your expectations, he’s not angry. He’s laughing. It’s a noise neither of you are used to, especially not during sex. He tries to hide the smile on his rugged features and starts gently rocking his hips back into a rhythm inside of you. 

“You’re both ridiculous,” he says, fondly. You exchange a look with Wade, both jubilant. 

Yeah, you are ridiculous - and he fits right in.

Taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse

[ordinary-barbie]

scary dog privileges.

summary: Nobody's messing with you as long as Rafe Cameron is around.

pairing: rafe x sweet!pogue!reader

word count: 1.7k

tags: fem!reader, swearing, a guy acts like a creep towards reader, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex (protected), mutual orgasms

note: dipping my toes into obx fanfic after hyperfixating/crushing on Drew Starkey and reading a ton of Rafe stories, haha. I have not seen the show but I'm shooting my shot here anyway!

~~~~

They say that opposites attract, which couldn't be more accurate regarding your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

Rafe was the Kook king of Kildare Island, someone who oozed cockiness and arrogance. Meanwhile, you were a soft-spoken Pogue. When people spotted the two of you together, they couldn't wrap their heads around it, and frankly, neither could you. Rafe had his pick of any girl on the island - especially the Kooks - but somehow he only had eyes for you, which warmed your heart.

It all started last year, with a party at Tannyhill to celebrate your class graduating from high school. You were content to stay under your covers, binging Love Island Australia on Hulu, but your friend Olivia had begged you to come with her. Eventually, you relented, your curiosity about one of Rafe Cameron's famous parties getting the better of you.

Within five minutes, you'd ran into Rafe—literally. You'd been swaying to the music and accidentally bumped into him, spilling your drink all over his shirt. You'd been mortified, apologizing profusely and insisting on helping him clean up.

Rafe was a goner ever since.

Now it was time for another Tannyhill bash to celebrate the start of summer, and you were squarely by Rafe's side. In the year you'd been together, you'd discovered how protective your boyfriend was. He held onto you like an anchor, always having an arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, no matter if he was talking to Topper and Kelce or kicking some rando's ass at beer pong. You appreciated it; parties often made you feel like a nervous baby deer, and it was nice to have someone to hold on to.

Unfortunately, you couldn't always be joined at the hip. "I'm gonna piss but I'll be right back, baby," Rafe promised, giving your ass a light squeeze on the way to the bathroom. As soon as your boyfriend was out of sight, your smile dropped. While you'd made an effort to get to know Rafe's friends, you were still incredibly nervous in a house full of Kooks.

To kill some time, you scrolled through Instagram, giggling at Olivia's latest story. She'd posted herself having a "friendly pizza sesh" with a guy, but you knew she'd had a huge crush on him since high school.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over you. "What's got you laughing like that, pretty girl?" You jumped, startled by the unfamiliar male voice.

A smirking guy with short, curly dark brown hair and glinting hazel eyes sauntered up to you. "Hey, I'm Aidan. I'm new in town—but maybe a cute thing like you could show me around?" he lazily drawled.

Your skin prickled with discomfort. You suddenly wanted to shrink into yourself, but you forced yourself to smile anyway. "Sorry, I'm not interested."

Aidan laughed, undeterred, and leaned into you. "Playing hard to get, huh? That's kinda hot," he whispered into your ear, making your stomach churn.

"I said no thanks," you responded, laughing nervously. You should run. You needed to get out of there. But for some reason, you found yourself rooted to the spot, trapped with Aidan and the pungent stench of his cologne.

Aidan pouted, using his arms to pin you against the wall. "C'mon babe, just give me a chance. I don't bite."

"How many times is she gonna tell you to fuck off before you get the point?" Relief flooded your chest at the sound of your boyfriend's voice.

Aidan rolled his eyes. "Why don't you fuck off, dude? We were having a moment."

Rafe glared at Aidan, his eyes blazing with rage, and grabbed the other boy by the collar of his Lacoste polo. "That's my girlfriend, you jackass. And you're gonna step the fuck away from her. Now."

You suddenly felt a zinging sensation in your core, turned on by Rafe's behavior. He was so sweet and silly and kind but could turn into a snarling dog in an instant — definitely not someone to fuck around with.

Rafe released Aidan's collar and the brunette gulped, suddenly trembling with fear.

"I - I'm sorry man. I had no idea," Aidan stammered. "I'll leave her alone."

Rafe wrapped a protective arm around your waist, scowling at Aidan. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Aidan meekly nodded, scurrying out of Tannyhill. The party filled with laughter, with people cheering Rafe on. But Rafe ignored the commotion, only focused on you.

"I'm so sorry baby. I should've been there to protect you from that—that asshat," Rafe apologetically said, tenderly stroking your cheek. You leaned into his touch, instantly comforted by the warmth radiating from his body.

"It's okay, Rafe," you assured him. "It's not like you could take me into the bathroom with you."

Rafe frowned, kissing the top of your head. "Maybe I should. Can't have these fuckin creeps tryna mess with my girl."

You laughed, shaking your head at your well-meaning boyfriend. "I adore you, but I'm not gonna stand there and watch you pee."

Rafe flashed you a lopsided grin. "Why not? We've done way worse things in there. That poor sink has seen some shit."

You playfully shoved Rafe's shoulder. "Rafe Alexander Cameron! I can't believe my knight in shining armor is so crass."

"Don't act like you don't love it, baby," he casually replied, kissing your neck. You let out a soft moan, tilting upward so Rafe could have more access.

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of Topper fake retching. "Begging y'all to please get a room," he pleaded. You couldn't help but snicker at Topper's dramatics.

Rafe lazily flipped off his friend before whisking you off to his bedroom and locking the door. "Get on the bed for me, pretty girl," Rafe said huskily, brushing his lips against your ear. Damn, that nickname sounded so much sexier from Rafe's lips than that douche from earlier. (Aaron? Andrew?)

You kicked off your sandals and laid down on top of Rafe's king-sized bed, pulling off your dress and underwear. Rafe quickly shed himself of his clothes and laid on top of you, kissing down every inch of your body.

"So I'm your knight in shining armor, huh? Well let me give my princess the treatment she deserves," Rafe drawled, relishing in the way your body reacted to his touch.

He plunged two fingers inside you, pumping them in and curling them right against your sweet spot. You gasped, loving the way he stretched you out. Rafe had been the only guy you'd ever slept with and at this point, you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else; how could you, when you've only experienced the best?

You began to crave more than just his fingers, however. "Rafey," you whined, fully overcome with lust.

Rafe chuckled, lazily rubbing at your clit. "Use your words, princess. Tell me how to make you feel good."

You gulped, still feeling a little timid when it came to expressing your desires in the bedroom. "I need—I need your mouth, Rafey. Please."

Rafe knitted his eyebrows in mock confusion. "Where, baby? Your lips? Your cheek? Your forehead?"

"Rafe Cameron. Eat my pussy before I explode," you begged, your horniness taking over.

Rafe smirked, pulling his fingers out of you before slowly running his tongue across your folds. “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty. Almost as much as I love this sweet little pussy. She's already so wet for me, holy shit."

You whimpered, arching your back in ecstasy as Rafe continued to pleasure you, kissing and sucking at your clit. You felt that familiar fire in your stomach, a sure sign that your climax was fast approaching.

"Oh, Rafe—'m gonna cum," you moaned, your legs shaking. Rafe sped up his movements, rubbing your clit with his thumb and index finger while pumping his tongue in and out of your hole. Eventually the dam burst and you felt your orgasm wash over you as your legs clamped down on either side of Rafe's head.

You took a minute to come down from your high, admiring the sight of your boyfriend with mussed-up hair and your glistening slick decorating his face. Even while looking totally disheveled, Rafe was a work of art.

Rafe wiped his face with the back of his hand, savoring the rest of your juices on his fingers. "Always my favorite meal baby," he purred. "But now I need to be inside you. Turn around for me, princess."

You shifted your position on the bed so you were lying on your stomach while Rafe rummaged in his bedside drawer for a condom. You heard him unwrapping the foil packet and rolling the condom on before feeling the head of Rafe's cock teasing your hole. You let out a breathy moan, loving and loathing the teasing simultaneously.

Rafe held on to your hips as he pushed into you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. "Can't get enough of this pussy," he grunted. "So warm and tight f'me."

The din of the party going on downstairs faded away, and you could only focus on the sounds of sex occurring in the room: the duet of moans between Rafe and you, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin. A year ago, you couldn't imagine coming out of your shell like this. But now? Well—

"Gonna cum again, Rafey," you breathily blurted out, feeling your pussy clench down on Rafe's cock.

"Fuck yeah, princess, just come all over my cock," Rafe groaned.

Almost as if on cue, you felt your climax wash over you, and Rafe helped you ride out your orgasm before spilling his load into the condom. You had a fleeting thought about Rafe shooting his cum inside you instead, but you weren't quite ready for that yet.

You and Rafe took a minute to catch your breaths before he took off the condom and tied it up, tossing it into the wastebasket next to his bed. He rolled over on his side, enveloping you in his arms and burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Baby, you're incredible," Rafe murmured, kissing your shoulder.

You smiled, feeling light and airy inside. "Rafe, you're incredible. Thanks for being my scary dog earlier."

"I'm sorry, 'scary dog?'" Rafe repeated with a laugh.

"Scary dog privilege. It's something I saw on TikTok," you explained. "Basically it means that if you're with an intimidating-looking person, people will leave you alone because they don't want to mess with a scary dog. And seeing you be protective like that? It was pretty hot."

Rafe fondly gazed at you, stroking your hip. "Well shit, I'll be your scary dog anytime then, baby."

[comatosebunny09]

sparkler | sylus

— summary: quietly, he plucks your glass from betwixt your fingers to set it down. fixes you with a look that’s both fragile and intense, his breath fanning over your inflamed skin. taking up your hand, he gently splays your fingers over his chest where his heart beats a war cadence. his voice is barely above a whisper, lips quivering. “what will it take for me to convince you that this heart races solely for you?” — cw: written with female reader in mind, p-in-v, unprotected sex, fluffy romantic filth, praise, language, alcohol use, i'm half awake rn so forgive me if i miss any warnings, mdni — wc: ~3k — notes: inspired by @leighsartworks216 and the only for love c-drama. thank you so much for reading! — now playing: merry-go-round of life - morunas fade - the driver era

New Year’s is a time for celebration—an occasion to usher in fresh beginnings and bountiful blessings. To reflect on things past and to look forward to the future.

You didn’t want to spend such a significant time alone.

So, naturally, you link up with a friend to herald in the new year over hotpot and cold beers.

The pair of you meander down the moon-laden street toward your apartment, arms linked together. You’re giggling and gossiping, tucked cozy in your coats, shielded from the wintry chill. Bags of ingredients crinkle in your hands, waiting to be cooked and consumed.

You’re indebted to her for sparing some time for you.

Sure, you could’ve easily watched the fireworks from your balcony by yourself. But you’re tired of being alone. You decided to make a change, shedding your reclusive shell. Just because you couldn’t get everything you wanted didn’t mean you had to shut yourself out from living.

Caught up in your thoughts, you hardly notice your friend slowing to a stop. You glance at her, your cheeks aching with a smile.

“What’s up?” you chuckle, studying her stunned expression.

Her lips quiver, eyes widening a fraction. You nudge her with your elbow, trying to draw her out of whatever trance she’s fallen into.

“That your man?” she teases once she’s broken free, a smirk spreading across her face.

“What are you talking about?”

Following her line of sight, you finally understand what has her so shell-shocked.

In the middle of the street, against the sleek outline of a car, sits a familiar shock of white. He commands attention without trying to, a towering presence with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets and a smile rounding his lips. His scarlet gaze is tuned to you. Mirthful as he takes you in, frost adorning his black turtleneck.

You’re rooted to the spot. It is your friend’s turn to chuckle. She gently pats your arm, slipping out of your grasp.

“Looks like you don’t need me anymore.”

With that, she eases out of frame, bidding you goodnight, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face as she walks past the focal point of your evening.

Left to your own devices, you strangle the bags of food in your hands. Gaze falls to the ground, and you awkwardly shift your weight between your feet.

He’s the last person you expected to see tonight. Figured he had more important matters to attend to instead of showing up on your doorstep on New Year’s Eve.

You wanted to spend the night with him more than anything. Hoped you could. But you knew that was wishful thinking. You knew where you stood in his life, knew your place. It was no longer by his side. You more so played the role of a supporting character these days, quietly watching him from the sidelines.

However, you’re pleasantly surprised when the tips of his shoes cut into frame. You peer up at him, your heart racing, your mouth slightly ajar, plumes of frosted breath forming between you. He’s wordless as he brushes your fingers with his, plucking the convenience store bags from your hands.

He motions to the entrance of your complex with a nod. Starts towards the door, not waiting for your response. And you toddle after him once your legs remember the art of movement.

—

Two glasses clink together in a celebratory fashion.

The contents for your hotpot sit unopened on the counter, your beers dripping with condensation alongside them.

Swathed in the moonlight pouring in from your balcony doors and the idle flicker of scented candles littered throughout your living space, you share a bottle of wine with your company. The red and viscous fluid sloshes about in your glass, reminiscent of the idle stir of his irises as he studies you.

“Sorry if I was interrupting,” he says after taking a swig. The rumble of his voice vibrates in your gut. It’s a pleasant feeling, stirring alongside the alcohol warming your veins. “Had I known you made plans, I would’ve made myself scarce.”

You wave your hand dismissively, a soft chuckle in your throat as you prop your cheek against your palm. “She’ll be alright. Pretty sure she was just hanging out with me out of pity, anyway.”

He hums into his wine glass before taking another sip. You watch with bated breath as his Adam’s apple bobs, your throat dry. He mirrors you with an unguarded smile, elbow settled on your couch’s headrest, temple resting on his knuckles.

Silence stretches between you. Comfortable where it was once tense. He sets his glass on your coffee table. Pats your thigh, his palm warm and possessive, moving along your quad. 

“I honestly can’t think of a better way to spend my night than with you.” His confession catches you off guard. 

You swallow, struggling to find your voice. When it returns to you, you jest to dispel the solemn atmosphere, “Trouble in paradise?” 

It’s too easy to put up that playful front. To tuck the anxious little thing you truly are beneath years of built-up facades.

Sylus snorts, brow quirked, eyes shining with intrigue. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You snicker, your glass poised at your lips. “Well, I don’t know. I figured you would have rather spent your time with…someone else.” That someone else, of course, being one pretty and polite Miss Hunter.

Something in his gaze shifts as your voice peters. He has a faraway look in his eyes before he leans in, the couch cushions squeaking beneath his weight. 

Quietly, he plucks your glass from betwixt your fingers to set it down. Fixes you with a look that’s both fragile and intense, his breath fanning over your inflamed skin. Taking up your hand, he gently splays your fingers over his chest where his heart beats a war cadence.

His voice is husky, lips quivering. “What will it take for me to convince you that this heart races solely for you?”

Your mouth falls slightly open, a delightful thrill shooting through you. You can’t look away, drawn into the crimson whirlpool of his stare. Unconsciously, you lean closer, his lashes bowing as he glances at your lips. If he means what he says, then—

You’re not thinking when you whisper it. Entwined in the spell that’s befallen you, the warmth he exudes, the sincerity in his tone. 

“Kiss me.”

You’ve but a tender hand curving around the nape of your neck and fingers sneaking up into the delicate hairs that reside there as a warning before he acquiesces, luring you into a kiss that sets your chest aflame and siphons the air from your lungs. 

His lips are as soft as the petals they resemble, pressing against yours. Warm and insistent, invoking the barest sound from your throat. He draws back slightly, scrutinizing your features. Searching for any signs of discomfort, quietly offering you an out. But you don’t deter him, your fingers tugging at the fabric of his sweater around his chest. 

He chuckles something enamored. You kiss away his smirk, drunk off the feel of him. Off his taste, his scent. Wine tastes so much better when it comes from him. 

He cautiously pries your mouth open with his tongue, pouring the grittiest sound into you when you grant him the entry he so politely requests. 

The air shifts when his tongue finds yours. They ensnare themselves in a lazy, wet waltz. You pull him impossibly closer, the hard planes of his chest pressed against yours. Your arms intuitively twine around his neck. His palms splay on your hips, mooring you to the spot. 

You trade quieted groans, greedily sucking down air between the dancing of your mouths. It’s all so much, and yet not enough. You want to burrow under his skin. Take up residence in his heart, living there for all eternity. He breaks away from the tempting suction of your mouth with a soft, sticky click. Your head falls back, lids shuttered, when his lips brand the column of your throat.

His kisses are honey-slow. Warm like a mug of hot cocoa on frigid nights. He tugs the neckline of your shirt to the side, mouth sealing around the slope where shoulder meets neck. You exhale shakily, your fingers sifting through his hair. He grazes your flesh with his teeth, companying it with a suck that’s sure to leave pretty petals of green and blue blooming there come morning. 

His name falls from your lips whilst his hands make several expeditions up and down your sides. Map out the contours of your body, stroking over your full thighs. He kisses his way back up to your mouth. Amid the sticky grind of your lips, he rasps,

“You taste so sweet. I knew you would be.”

Your heart flutters. Something pinches in your gut at his praise. His thumbs ease over the outer swell of your breasts. He stokes the embers of desire within you to life, and he hasn’t even taken your clothes off.

Thumbs experimentally graze your pebbled nipples. You jolt, pleasant tingles cresting below the surface of your skin. He bites your lip. Tugs on it, pulling the neediest sound from the dredges of your chest. 

“May I?” he husks, artful fingers at the hem of your sweater. 

You nod drunkenly. Don’t think you could ever say no to him. Not when he’s looking at you like this. Touching you like this, his fingernails igniting a flurry of goosebumps across your skin as they slide over your stomach. He tears the offending garment from your shoulders. Your hair waterfalls around your neck, eyes shining with ardor, lips parted. 

He weighs your breasts in his palms. Kneads them, trapping your nipples beneath the pads of his thumbs. The feeling is amplified through the frailty of your bra. He takes his time, wordlessly appraising you with his hands. Watches you with keen interest, drunk off the moment as well.

“Can I taste you?” he breathes against your lips. How could you deny him when he’s been so considerate thus far? So gentle, handling you like glass? 

You nod, anticipation coagulating in your veins. Suck in a breath when the lace of your bra slides down your nipples. He bunches your bra beneath your bosom. And the crisp air that follows is short-lived, replaced by the hot suction of his mouth. 

His name flows like the sweetest supplication. You throw your head back, bowing into him, fingers tugging at tufts of white. He fastens a hand to the ridges of your spine, keeping you in place. Plucks your other nipple whilst he feasts, a clever tongue fluttering over your peak. He breaks away with a sticky pop to pay your other breast the same homage. You feel like you could die, subjected to his terribly distracting mouth like this. 

You burn hot. Need more. And you’re pulling at the bottom stitching of his turtleneck, trying to pry it off. He chuckles, hearty and full-blooded, leaning back to let you tear it from his shoulders. His mouth is back on your breasts, greedily licking your nipples into the hot cavity of his mouth.

You squirm. Pinch your thighs together to ward off the pleasant pulsing taking place between them. Sylus’ hands roost on your hips. He helps you stand, reluctantly releasing your tit from his mouth. Helps you shimmy out of your jeans, snickering when you stumble to get them off.

Drawing you into his lap by the crooks of your knees, he kisses you anew. Your hands frame his cheeks, your legs bracketing his hips. Your nipples deliciously slide against the rigid pane of his chest. Your cunt drools, slowly staining your panties with arousal, pressed up against the seam of his trousers.

With an arm fastened to your waist and a hand cupping the apple of your ass, he encourages you to grind against him. He guides you into a rhythm. A tortuously slow dance that has you panting, mind reeling, sparkles of white invading your sight. 

“Sylus,” you breathe, hips stuttering, panties sticking to your slit. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, mouth hinged open, irises glazing over with lust. “Do you want me inside you?”

You nod eagerly, your hips moving of their own volition over his lap. You giggle when he suddenly hefts you into his arms one-handed, his effortless display of strength making you pine for him even more.

Your shadows dance along the walls of your hallway as he carries you to your bedroom. He tenderly deposits you onto your crisp comforter once inside, your panties and bra long discarded, and you watch, propped on your elbows, as he unfastens his belt and trousers. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth when you catch sight of him.

Even beneath the low light of your room, he is impressive. Hot and turgid, slapping intimidatingly against his abs. Your mouth waters as he nears you, to which he smirks, a laugh brewing in his chest. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” he teases, notching himself between your legs, his forearms locked in the bends of your knees, splitting you nice and open. “You might stroke my ego a little too well, staring like that.”

You can’t help it. You’ve fantasized about him before, his image hijacking your mind when the ache between your legs became unbearable. But your imagination paled in comparison to the real thing. To his body, burning hot beneath the glide of your fingers. To his voice, smooth as whiskey, as he groans from your attention. To the predatory smolder of his eyes, hair falling from its once perfect coiffure into his face. 

He rubs himself against your slit, coating his shaft in your nectar. You share an exhale, a gruff sound out, your thighs quaking. He feels so good when his cock head bumps your clit. Your eyes roll, toes curl. 

“So pretty,” he whispers, thumb finding your clit and massaging it with meticulous arcs. “So good for me. Can’t wait to be inside you.”

You clench around nothing, swiveling your hips to chase the feel of his girth gliding along your nether region. To guide it inside you, your entrance puckering and drooling for him. Solely for him. 

“Sylus, please. Fuck.”

“Do you want me to stop?” It seems he has no intention of doing so, his thumb still sifting through your sticky folds, hips still moving with delicious friction.

“N-no. Never. Fuck. Need you…inside.” 

He takes up your cue, a smile canting his lips. Taps his weighted cock against your sticky cunt a few times before nestling the head into your entrance. And, oh.

“Fuck,” he strains, arms bracketing either side of your head. He slowly eases home, your greedy cunt drawing him in deeper. You cross your ankles at the small of his back, and he props himself on his elbows, watching your face for any signs of discomfort.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full. Stuffed to the brim, his hips notched up against your inner thighs. He pants from the effort of easing into you, from the effort of not losing himself to the hot suction of your body.

You pull him down into a kiss. Undulate your hips, spurring him to move. He thrusts into you, shallow at first, giving you time to adjust to his girth. Your fingernails bite into his shoulder blades, your pants of discomfort traded for pathetic whimpers for more more more.

He fucks you into the bed thereafter, your headboard cracking against the wall, the air punched from your lungs with each stroke. He folds you in half, your knees pressing into your breasts. This angle forces him deeper, where he unravels the pleasant tangle of nerves budding inside you.

“Unngh, you feel so fucking good,” he lauds, his hips creating a rhythm of their own. “Sucking me in like that. So fucking filthy.”

You clench around him, a sparkling feeling erupting in your gut. Tears scorch the sides of your face. A wail swells in your chest. He angles his head down to kiss them away, to stifle those pretty noises you make for him, swallowing them whole. You’re close, so close, your orgasm sinking its claws into the lining of your stomach and oozing down.

“I’m gonna—gonna cum,” you manage, peering into his eyes, and the amount of affection that resides in his gaze shoves you closer toward that slurry slope.

“Yeah? Gonna cum?” he dotes, the lowered pitch of his voice overwhelming. He fucks you harder, the bed squealing, your eyes screwing shut.

Your orgasm creeps through you, spilling like hot liquid. You grit your teeth against the rush. Spasm, a long, broken moan dragged from your body. With a few more thrusts, he staggers into the void with you, spurred by your tongue curling around his name and your cunt surrounding him like a warm embrace. 

You both start when a series of explosions erupt outside your window. Peer outside, fireworks igniting across the night sky. He looks down at you. Chuckles, sweeping some errant hair from your face as you drift down. Your cheek gathered in his palm, he swoops in for a tender kiss, still nestled inside you, his thumb cruising over the apple of your cheek.

“Happy New Year,” he croons when he parts, eyes shining boyishly, smile affectionate.

You reach up to pull him down by his nape, his weight heavy yet reassuring atop you. “Happy New Year,” you return, equally as enamored. 

As he rests his cheek against yours, the pair of you housed in the safety of each other’s arms, watching the fireworks scatter against the inky sky, you thank whatever higher being had chosen to bless you this New Year’s night. 

[sakur4ii]

Rooted Connections

Charles Xavier x Erik Lensherr x Reader

the gender of the reader is not specified // based on X-Men Days Of Future Past, but the scenarios are made up

Summary: You are blind, and you control the earth (you also listen to the plants) you are like a mutant version of Toph Beifong basically. Also you and Charles bullying at Erik for not noticing the obvious.

maybe part 2 in the future? let me know if there are any mistakes because English is not my first language.

Charles "I'm not good with violence" Xavier

"‘Can I know where we are going?’ Charles asks, irritated by the mystery Logan is adding to the situation.

‘You'll see,’ the man replies with a half-amused smile.

In the future, you were a legend, a myth. The original X-Men never stopped talking about you when Logan arrived at the mansion, and over time, their respect for you and your amazing deeds only grew. Something Logan struggled to learn about you was that you had a romantic relationship with both Charles and Erik. He didn’t understand it until Ororo explained that it was a polyamorous relationship, which helped him understand much more about the Professor and his nemesis.

In the horrible future from which they sent him, Erik and Charles ordered him to force a reunion between the two of them and your first meeting with them.

Part of him found the situation amusing, feeling like Cupid but with bone claws instead of a bow and arrows. Another part of him hoped that this forced encounter wouldn’t jeopardize the relationship destined to be in the future.

Once they arrived at what was supposed to be your home, Peter was the first to get out of the car, followed by Hank, Charles, and Logan.

They were in a place slightly secluded from the city, full of forests, dirt, plants, and flowers. There was only one house in sight, well-maintained and decorated on the outside; Charles gave you credit for that.

They walked up the short driveway, and Logan didn’t even need to knock for the door to open by itself. Logan smiled amusedly while the other three men glanced at each other in confusion.

‘Excuse me,’ Logan murmured, entering the house, closely followed by the others.

The house was cozy and minimalist, with the few pieces of furniture placed against the walls, giving the appearance of more space than there actually was. They entered what seemed to be the kitchen, where there you were.

You had your back to them as you did something on the kitchen counter. Judging by the sound, you were preparing coffee.

‘Coffee or tea?’ you asked disinterestedly, creating another round of confused glances.

‘Coffee,’ Peter answered with a smile. Logan sat down at the table on the side of the kitchen, which had three chairs.

‘I suppose the furry guy and the one who's supposed to have paralyzed legs are more into tea,’ you commented as you set the water to boil. You pointed to the fridge next to you. ‘There's beer in the fridge.’

Logan raised his eyebrows at the two completely confused men in the kitchen doorway as he went for the said beer, while Peter took a seat.

Hank and Charles didn’t understand anything. Were you a telepath? Hank was in his human form, and Charles was full of the serum to be able to walk, so… how?

Logan returned to his seat, and that’s when you finally turned around, leaving them all (except for Wolverine) surprised.

Although you usually wore sunglasses, you had taken them off when your plants alerted you that someone from the future was coming to see you. Your eyes were white, lost.

You put your hands in your pockets and leaned your back against the counter. ‘I suppose they want you to help them get Magneto out of the Pentagon.’

‘She’s good,’ Peter murmured in amusement.

‘Are you a telepath?’ Charles finally asked, crossing his arms.

‘No,’ you smiled at him.

‘Then?’ Hank asked this time, while Logan just watched the interaction like it was a soap opera, sipping his beer.

‘I control anything to do with the earth, I understand plants, and I see through the roots of trees, although I can also sense all your movements through the ground we’re standing on,’ you explained, serving the tea and coffee.

You heard Peter whisper ‘cool’ as you handed out the cups.

‘Your plants told you,’ the professor concluded, taking a sip of tea, which happened to be his favorite flavor. You nodded.

‘People have told me you have good reflexes; is that true?’ Wolverine’s question made you smile slyly.

‘Of course it is.’

‘Then catch this,’ he challenged, tossing the empty beer bottle at you.

Hank and Charles looked horrified as he threw the bottle, while Peter was ready to intervene if necessary.

Through your bare feet, you could feel how almost everyone’s heart skipped a beat, but you caught the bottle in mid-air as if it was nothing. The collective sigh of relief that followed made you laugh.

‘So, are we going or what?’

-------------------------------------------------------

After successfully getting Magneto out of prison, you had to sit with Charles and Erik on the plane, according to Logan’s poor excuse, ‘So they don’t kill each other.’

After a tense conversation between the two, during which you just sat in silence, Erik spoke up.

‘Why are you barefoot?’

‘So I can see you'

Erik frowned in confusion, while Charles barely suppressed an amused smile. Erik still hadn’t realized that you were blind, since you were wearing sunglasses, and you hadn’t given any indication that you were. Of course, Erik found it odd that you were always looking straight ahead and not making eye contact with anyone, but he assumed you might be shy.

‘Am I missing an inside joke?’ Erik asked again, noticing his old friend’s poorly concealed smile.

‘No, nothing, don’t think too much about it,’ Charles replied, trying to hold back a laugh but failing, causing you to smile in amusement.

Magneto frowned in confusion, feeling like he was missing something, and he had to admit it made him a bit jealous. He finally reunites with Charles, the man he loves, and Charles has inside jokes with someone he’s never seen before and, as far as he knows, only met today.

‘Explain to me, what’s so funny?’ he asked, hiding his growing irritation, raising an eyebrow as he looked between the two of you, who were still stifling your laughter. Erik couldn’t help but notice that you were still looking straight ahead. ‘Is it something related to her mutation? I thought Y/N only controlled the earth and talked to plants?

‘You can do a lot with the earth, isn’t that right, Charles?’ you replied with amusement. The man in the wheelchair, who miraculously walks, rested his head on his hand, trying to hide his smile as he nodded. ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ he said.

Erik felt his irritation growing, along with his heart racing at the melodic sound of your shared, complicit laughter.

The gears in Magneto’s mind started to turn as he realized.

You were wearing sunglasses that you hadn’t taken off, even on the plane, always looking straight ahead, not having looked at either him or Charles this whole time, and you said you were barefoot so you could see him.

‘You’re blind,’ he concluded, rubbing his forehead in a mix of irritation and embarrassment, earning loud laughs from both of you that attracted curious and annoyed looks from Hank and Logan.

‘Took you long enough,’ you said, patting him on the shoulder in consolation.

‘Something I don’t understand is, how do you “see” through your feet now if we’re on a plane?’ Charles asked once his laughter had calmed down.

‘The earth has metal particles, and metal has earth particles, I suppose,’ you answered.

‘Does that mean you can control metal?’ Erik now asked with curiosity.

‘Sometimes, although it’s not easy at all, it requires a lot of effort,’ you replied, shrugging.

‘Interesting,’ they said in unison, glancing at each other and smiling as if they were thinking the same thing.

‘I sense tension… are you two going to kiss?’ you joked.

The two men rolled their eyes and smiled at each other, definitely thinking the same thing, while you felt confused because they didn’t give you any response."

Pt.2

[55sturn]

✮ SOME TYPE OF WAY

pairing: biker!matt sturniolo x good girl fem!reader

synopsis: y/n takes matt up on the offer he proposes after they meet at a party, their tension thicker than their resolve.

warnings: swearing, reckless driving [ matt’s a thrill seeker / adrenaline junkie ], sexual tension, 18+, sexual content [ groping over and underneath the clothes ], making out, choking, spit swapping, open ending.

THIRD PERSON POV

y/n has always been a very organized person, every move she made was calculated and meticulous, not leaving enough room for error or her anxiety to spiral up a storm. some would lean toward calling her uptight, but she would let it roll off her back like water because she found a way for everything in her life to fall in line smoothly without many problems arising.

her best friend, jess, has always been the exact opposite of her. she was chaotic and messy, always running late, often being caught in compromising situations and relying on y/n to bail her out. the two were on the opposites of the personality spectrum, and people would screw their faces up at the sight of the two, but they paid no mind because their bond worked.

jess always joked about breaking y/n, turning into the opposite of her but y/n was stubborn, finding the utmost comfort in the way she lived. she didn't see the appeal of chaos and living without restriction.

but her class load had grown rather heavy, and she felt her impulse control weakening the more jess mentioned this massive influencer party that she had garnered invites for through multiple connections, and jess wasn’t backing down.

“fine. i think it’s time i take a break anyway, jess.”

“wait? are you for real right now?” jess exclaimed, shocked that for once in their friendship, she wasn’t going to a party alone.

WE ONLY MET EACH OTHER JUST THE OTHER DAY

as y/n followed jess through the crowd of people, she felt an overwhelming swarm of different and conflicting emotions, part of her wanted to turn around and walk back to her apartment, while the other part wanted to stick it out, figuring it couldn’t be as bad as she psyched herself out to believe, especially if jess, who was known for being blunt and outspoken if someone was overwhelming, could tolerate it.

y/n felt out of place, clad in a baby pink pleather mini skirt, and a matching pink long sleeve raglan baby tee, both courtesy of jess, and a pair of pink platform converse. she quickly trailed behind her best friend, who seemed to know her way around the house, more so mansion, they were partying at, heading toward the kitchen.

“so what are you wanting to drink?” jess hums, gesturing the otherworldly amounts of alcohol littering the large island in the kitchen.

“just pick something and make a drink for me.” y/n replies, turning back to face the crowd of people, watching as couples and people nearly fucked each other on various surfaces among the house. as her gaze kept flitting about the crowd of people, she briefly met the eyes of some guy across the room.

she felt her cheeks began to warm as he flashed her a lopsided smirk, his blue eyes boring into hers beneath the mop of shaggy brown hair. she returns his smirk, but hers is much gentler before turning back to jess, taking the red solo cup, staring at the dark liquid swirling in it. y/n cautiously takes a sip, while she trusts jess not to fuck her over and get her obnoxiously drunk, she’s still wary of the alcohol mixed with soda in her cup, she’s only been drunk a handful of times.

she swallows the dark drink, the taste of vodka mixed with the sweet, almost foamy taste of root beer filling her mouth, causing her to salivate ever so slightly as she takes another gracious sip.

“thank you for not giving me something other than vodka.” she laughs, watching as jess grabs two more solo cups, pouring two hefty shots of vodka into them, quickly handing one to y/n, who clinks her plastic cup against jess’ before quickly downing the shot, followed by a large gulp of her drink.

the two slowly make their way out of the kitchen, dancing with each other before beginning to talk and mingle with the rest of the people. y/n was shocked at how easily she fit into the world of influencers and content creators. as she made her way toward the deck, she felt eyes watching her, brushing it off she exited the stuffy house, finding solace in the cool april air clinging to her skin as she leaned against the railing of the wrap-around porch.

as proud as she was of herself for stepping away from her studies for a night, she still needed a moment of peace, or even just a moment alone.

but her tranquility was interrupted by the sliding door opening and shutting softly, she turned to head back inside but she was met with the same blue eyes she held contact with prior.

“hey.” he nods, pulling a cigarette from the pack that sat in his back pocket, grabbing a black and silver zippo lighter, flicking it quickly.

“hi.”

“so what’s a pretty little thing like you doing at a place like this?” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair, the dingy light from the fairy lights lining the roof catching his tattoos, completely enamouring y/n as she watched his arm flex and relax, the muscle tee he wore showing off his lean arms. at first glance, you wouldn’t expect him to have any muscle but as he moved his arm, y/n was thoroughly impressed.

“my friend dragged me here. what about you?” she replies, resting her tailbone against the railing as he smirks, his head cocked to the side as his eyes flick across her features.

“what’d’ya mean?”

“just that you don’t seem like the party either, very quiet.”

“and how do you know that, sweetheart?”

“well seeing as i came out here because it’s overwhelming in there, and you did the same, and we’re the only two people out here, i’m assuming you came out here for the same reason.” she laughs, taking a sip of her drink, holding his curious stare over the rim of the flimsy cup, not once dropping his intense gaze.

“what if i just wanted to get you alone?” he teases, watching as she rolls her eyes, laughing to himself.

“then you’d be a total creep. i don’t even know your name.” she laughs, shocking herself at how easily she warmed up to him.

“it’s matt.”

“you look like a matt.” she hums placing her empty cup on the railing beside before pushing herself up, sitting along the wide railing, her legs dangling slightly as matt puffs on his cigarette, flicking the ashes on the grass below.

“what about you? you got a name or am i gonna have to keep calling you sweetheart?”

“y/n.” she whispers, her face warming at the nickname falling from his lips, she normally wasn’t one for slightly condescending pet names, but it sounded so sickly and sinfully sweet coming from the stranger beside her.

“that suits you, a pretty name for such a pretty girl.” he muses, watching as she turns her head away from in a futile attempt to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks.

“your tattoos are really pretty.”

“you think so?” he hums, shifting closer to her to let her see them, watching as her eyes shift from each intricate piece, marvelling at the dark ink contrasting against his ivory skin.

“what’s your favourite one?”

“probably cerberus or the owl. what about you? you got any?” he asks, genuinely curious to know more about the girl beside him, wondering if there was more to the soft and timid appearance.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased, crossing her legs, causing her skirt to ride up the tiniest bit, showing the smallest amount of ink on the side of her thigh, smirking as matt’s eyes shamelessly drifted to the exposed skin.

the two keep talking and getting to know one another, even going as far as to get each other’s numbers, the tension growing thick between the two until jess stumbles through the door, violently drunk as she babbles away about some guy she wanted to leave with.

“if she wants to go with him, i can give you a ride home on my bike.”

“we took an uber, so i’ll just order another one but i appreciate the offer.”

“well if you ever need a ride, just shoot me a text.”

BUT YOU ALREADY GOT ME FEELIN’ SOME TYPE OF WAY

over the course of a few weeks, y/n and matt continued to keep in touch, constantly texting one another. the tension never faltering as they bounced flirty and sexual innuendos off one another.

matt has begged for the two of them to hang out, either over facetime or in person, numerous times, even going as far as to ask to take her for a ride on his bike. but she declined every time, letting him know that her studies came first.

normally, if a girl wasn’t really interested in meeting up, whether to hang out or hook up, matt would give up within the first few days. but there was something about y/n that had him inexplicably drawn to her. the soft, delicate, almost innocent appeal to her had him feeling all sorts of ways.

talking to her had him feeling the same way speeding down the seventy stretch a couple blocks from his house on his kawasaki bike did. it was exhilarating, freeing, and terrifying all the same. everything she said, made him feel things he had never experienced, it was like he was speeding down a winding freeway, his arms outstretched on either side of him, letting fate decide what happened.

NOW IF I COULD FIGURE IT OUT, ID TAKE YOU BACK TO MY HOUSE SO WE COULD MEDDLE ABOUT

y/n sighed as she waited on the curb of the restaurant, hoping that the guy from her global economics discussion course that had asked her out would show up. but she knew deep down, he wasn’t going to.

it was another story where she was asked, only to be taken for a fool. she knew he only wanted to fuck, she knew guys were attracted to her pseudo-innocent appearance, thinking they could be the lucky one to corrupt her. but she knew better, and she always made sure the guys put up a fight before receiving what they wanted.

she sighed as she stood, wiping off the back of her jeans before pulling her phone out of her pocket. she opened her texts with jess before remembering jess was at a photoshoot for some clothing brand that reached out to her.

she stood there, glancing and forth between her phone and the sidewalk, torn between swallowing her pride and reaching out to matt to pick her up, or walking home, saving ego from taking a massive blow.

she was stubborn. she wanted to see matt, but she knew what his end goal was and she refused to take another hit to her pride and ego so quickly after being stood up and humiliated by some loser in one of her classes. so, she slowly made her way down the winding sidewalk, but the cold air made the walk somewhat unbearable, and before she knew it, she was pressing the call button, listening to the dial tone. after two rings, matt picked up.

“hey sweetheart.” he hummed into the speaker, that same taunting tone never faltering over the device.

“can you pick me up? i’ll send you my location.”

“aw, what happened? did jake stand you up, just like i said he would?” he laughs, causing her to groan. he was never malicious in the way he poked and prodded at her, he just wanted to prove she didn’t have to be right all the time.

“yeah whatever. can you pick me up or not?” she spits, fed up with the way her night turned out.

“lose the attitude and i can.” he spits back, patiently waiting for her to ask in that sugary sweet voice that had his thoughts drifting to a dark place. he knew he was going to pick her up regardless, but he just wanted to use anything he could as an excuse to hear her beg for him, he wanted hee to be completely at his mercy in every possible way.

“can you please pick me up matt? i’m cold and i just wanna go home.” she pleads, her lips falling into a slight pout, internally groaning at how quickly her resolve had faltered the second he implied and demanded that she beg for him.

“i was going to regardless, just wanted to hear you beg for my help, sweetheart.” he chuckles, he knew the way he was acting was sick and twisted, his desire to see this stubborn but oh so innocent woman crumple beneath his command overtaking all sense of chivalry in his body, his desire for her manifested through such deep desperation.

she quickly thanked him before sending a ping of her location. she pocketed her phone again, and wrapped her arms around her torso as a pathetic attempt to keep her shielded from her the cold air.

as she stood there, she fought hard to keep her thoughts at bay, refusing to let the desperation seep into the depths of her mind, fighting to keep herself from feeling pathetic. she didn’t want to feel that way, she knew her worth, but sometimes it felt impossible to find someone worthy of loving her. she wondered if she should just give up the one the thing guys wanted without a fight, she would be fine, right?

but before she could answer her own thoughts of despair, a low rumble came from her left, causing her head to snap in that direction. surely enough, the sound came from the muffled engine of matt’s motorcycle. and as she watched him swerve to idle in front of her, she couldn’t stop the filthy thoughts from infiltrating her mind. her eyes shamelessly fell to the sight of his hands wrapped tightly around the handlebars, the veins in his slender hands flexing as his thumb pressed down on the clutch. she felt her thighs clench tightly as her heartbeat thumped beneath her chest, the thumping slowly travelling down toward her heat as she watched him.

“hey sweetheart.” he hums, his tone thick with arrogance, watching as she shamelessly checked him out. she knew she shouldn’t be thinking of him the way she was, but the way his shoulder blades and muscle tightened and flexed as he shifted forward, leaving space for her to climb on behind him, made her want to rake her nails down the skin, her mind running amok with the possible ways he would react to her touch.

she shakes her head as she steps forward, timidly taking a step toward his bike. he watched her, taking in however scared she was, sighing he, grabs her wrist, stopping her from climbing over and straddling the seat behind him.

“you know i’ll be careful right? i’m not going to do anything that could end with you getting severely hurt.” he whispers, his eyes full of nothing but sincerity as she meets his stare, a meek smile on her face as she nods.

“good girl. now climb on, i’m gonna take my chances and take you on that ride i promised.”

her thighs clench involuntarily at the slight praise that falls from his lips, she could feel her resolve slipping further and further away the longer she was in his presence. and the fact that she would be sitting behind him, with her arms tightly wound around his waist felt much more intimate than it should’ve.

she quickly straddled the seat behind him, her hands began to shake slightly as she wrapped her arms around him, her hands flat against his abdomen as he kicked up the kickstand, leaning the bike to the other side with his foot on the ground as he revved the engine, causing her hands to ball into fists, with his black shirt tightly twisted between her fingers. as matt took off, he couldn’t help but chuckle as her grasp tightened against him, her cheek pressing against his back between his shoulder blades.

her grip began to loosen as matt took her around the city, and her head lifted from his back, as she took in the scenery around her. but matt missed the way she felt pressed so tightly against him, so in true torturous fashion, he sped up, causing her to go right back to pressing so closely against him, her hands pressing against his lower stomach so firmly, he was sure there’d be marks.

but he didn’t wanted to scare her too much, so he slowed down, coming to a full stop as the light above him flickered to red. as she pulled away, she felt her adrenaline build up and she wanted to finally tease him the way he did her, so she let her hands wander down his stomach, teasingly drifting lower, only to stop right above his belt and move back up.

as her hand trailed down toward his belt, matt’s breath hitched in his throat. he desperately wanted to feel her touch him where he needed it most, but his ego was bruised, he wanted to be the one in control, and right now, he was nothing putty in her hand. the light was still red and his heart was beating so harshly against his ribcage, that felt like it was about to burst out of his chest as her hand slipped beneath his shirt, her fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans.

as the light turned green, she pushed her hand further beyond his waistband, and he had never been more thankful to be driving at night. but before he could feel any relief, her hand was back against his stomach, with her head against his back as he drove her along the coast.

but once again they reached another red light, only one other vehicle a few lanes over from them, and this time she threw caution to the wind as her hand drifted downward again, this time not stopping at his belt. and soon enough, her hand was firmly palming his cock through his jeans, and he was biting his bottom lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood began filling his mouth.

he felt his cock stiffen even more as her hand wrapped around his length through his jeans, softly squeezing and applying pressure to it. her hand lifted momentarily, only for it to slip beneath the loosened waistband of his jeans, resuming her teasing but this time, only through one layer of clothing. her thumb traced along his tip, and she smirked to her as she felt the wet spot from his precum seeping through the material. she grasped his semi-thick cock over his boxers, slowly jerking her hand back and forth as best as she could until the light turned green. and matt had never been so lucky that the light turned green when it did because if she had kept up her ministrations, he would’ve cum in his pants right then and there.

he wasted no time in speeding off as the light turned green, taking her to a somewhat secluded turn off. he quickly killed the engine, forced the kickstand down, and ripped off his helmet, moving to stand in front of her before she could ask questions.

his lips were roughly pressing against hers in almost no time as she side-saddled the bike, his left hand pawing at her hips beneath the thin hoodie she wore as he pulled her closer, while his right hand wrapped around her throat, gently squeezing the soft flesh.

the kiss was rough, a clash of teeth, and full of lust. it was desperate and sloppy, their tongues brushing and pushing against one another as spit and drool accumulated along the muscles, transferring from mouth to mouth. her nails scraped against his scalp as she tugged on the soft brown curls, while her other hand held his bicep, her nails digging into the taught flesh slightly, leaving crescent shaped marks along the tattoos. pulling away, matt pulled her bottom lip with him slightly, entrance by the way it bounced back into its natural pout.

“fuck.” he hums, his chest heaving as she watches him, her pupils blown out with lust, the black drowning out their normal colour.

“i don’t know what came over me, i’m sorry.”

“don’t you dare apologize, sweetheart. but that is making it nearly impossible to not take you back to my house and ruin you.”

“what if i want that too?”

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[thriftedtchotchkes]

a matter of time

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel can't remember the last time he took things slow and let himself feel. you give him a gentle reminder.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, late boston qz era, joel's pov, smut, porn with a twist ending, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, slow/intimate sex, finger sucking, premature ejaculation, nostalgia, internal monologue, tess doesn't exist

word count: 2.4k

It's been a long time.

Joel's all but forgotten what it feels like when it's this gentle. There's almost a tenderness to it, even though he doesn't know much of anything about you at all. Not your name or how you ended up here in this hellhole of a safe haven.

Nothing but the sweet, tacky taste of your 20-year-old Lip Smacker gloss and the tang of sweat and something sweeter lingering on your skin. But he's learning.

And he likes this new knowledge. Even if he never gets the chance to use it again, he'll devour it hungrily because it's a worthy distraction from the monotony of life in a quarantine zone. Day in and day out, he returns to this shitty apartment with its peeling floral wallpaper and rotting mahogany furniture—memories of a distant past that aren't his own and, yet, sting just as viscerally.

Tonight, the space hums with a different energy. Highlighted by the soft rays of the setting sun, the room's only purpose is to serve as a backdrop to you, and that alone changes everything. Your beauty, your responsiveness, as he lays you across his moth-eaten duvet is reminiscent of a different time, and he'll happily accept that reminder.

It's one of the few pieces of nostalgia that doesn't ache or eat away at him the longer he lets it in. No, you feel good. You're warm against his fingertips, soft and pliant under the path his lips follow from the sticky smear across your cheek, past the breath hitching audibly in your bared throat, down to your soaked, coarse curls.

You want him. More than that, you want to take your time with him, and he's surprised at how much he wants that, too. Trapped within these walls, what else does he have but endless, empty time? And there's nothing he'd love more than to spend it taking care of you, just like you asked him to.

He hovers above you, refusing to part his lips from your body as he urges you up the bed to rest against his pillows. They're flattened and scratchy from years of use and abuse, but they smell like him, and you like it. He can tell. The moment your hair fans across them, rich and lively in contrast, you bury your face into the fabric to breathe him in, and your body's reaction is instantaneous.

Your back arches with a heavy sigh of contentment and your legs fall apart naturally, welcoming him closer, but he waits. Reverently, he slowly leans back onto his heels to appreciate the sight in front of him, and he can't help but feel grateful. You're already glistening for him, preening under his undivided attention as your delicate fingers trail up to your breast to tweak a nipple.

As your eyelashes flutter and a gasp escapes your parted lips, his hand quickly drops to squeeze his twitching cock over his boxers and he keens, nearly doubling over at the pleasure that overcomes him. A coy, knowing smile quirks at the corners of your mouth, and he decides he needs to taste you again. Now.

He lurches forward, and you let out a surprised squeal as he licks into your mouth and commits to memory the faint taste of artificial root beer and mint on your tongue. The familiar fight for dominance he's so used to after years of quick fucks and one-night stands isn't there, and, instead, you set a languid, passionate pace that makes his head spin. It's a slow, deep caress—wet and warm and all-encompassing—and it's everything he hopes fucking you will feel like.

He's so hard it hurts. God, when was the last time he was this fucking hard? He's leaking messily through his boxers, desperate to be touched and enveloped and claimed.

And how could he not be? He's kissing the perfect woman. A patient goddess who's leading his hands across every inch of bare skin, showing him exactly how you like to be stroked and gripped, sighing encouragingly when he heeds your lessons just right.

You're one hell of a teacher, and he thinks he might just be your favorite student. He separates from you with a lewd smack and a string of saliva keeps you connected for a fleeting second before you lean up to lick it off his bottom lip. Your eyes lock with his and they're dark, almost completely consumed by desire, and it's further encouragement to continue on to his next assignment.

This one might just send him over the edge. You guide his hand down to cup your wet heat and you're drenched, dribbling and smearing slick patterns onto his sheets that he'll probably trace with his tongue while he jerks off to the thought of you long after you're gone.

Bathed in the dwindling embers of twilight, your silhouette—the plush slope of your breasts and soft curve of your belly and thighs—is cast around the room in artful shapes and shadows, and he wishes you were a permanent fixture. That your visage covered these walls instead of false depictions of growth and life. It's a dangerous train of thought, but he's too lost in the haze of your warmth and wetness to think about anything else.

He needs to feel you. He needs to fuck you.

He barely even realizes he's already slipped inside you as if he's been there all along, stroking your walls with the rough tips of his middle and ring fingers and honing in on that hidden, spongy spot with such precision, you'd think he'd done it a million times before. Thick, cording veins strain against his forearms as he tenses with the effort of keeping his thrusts long and purposeful, and he watches, captivated, as your cunt sucks him in greedily and fruitlessly tries to hold him inside you.

Tight—fuck. You're so tight. He's bucking into his unoccupied hand, jerking himself off over his boxers, and he doesn't remember when he started, but he can't stop. It feels too good...you feel too good, and the steady, simultaneous rhythm he sets for both of you isn't nearly enough.

Faster. Harder. Still so goddamn tight. He'll never be able to stretch you out enough to take him, and he's starting to worry he'll cum before he even gets the chance to try. His cock throbs violently against his palm, and he bites back a groan at the vision beneath him. Christ, how did you get here?

You can't possibly be real. Your thighs are quaking on either side of his waist and your pussy clenches dangerously hard around his scissoring fingers. There's a thin sheen of sweat matting the wispy hairs around your temples and pooling everywhere your body connects with the mattress, your searingly hot skin an addictive, sticky trap he willingly and faithfully succumbed to.

And those sounds.

You need his cock. Fucking hell, you need it. Greedy, patient, needy fucking woman. He can hear it in your soft pants and hitched breaths. You're quiet and subtle in your pleasure, so unlike any other woman he's ever been with, but when you whimper—fuck. Fuck.

He's going to give it to you. Right now, after taking the time to map and explore and discover, he's going to use his newfound knowledge to hollow you out, then fill you up until you're overflowing with him.

He slows to a stop and pulls his glistening fingers from your cunt, and there's that faint, perfect sound again. A stuttered, broken whimper that lilts with each knuckle that catches on your entrance. He sucks his ring finger into his mouth and adds your taste to his list of all-time favorites, right alongside your Barq's root beer-flavored lip gloss.

Then, he offers you his middle finger, and he swears he can feel your lips sealing tightly around his cock as you wrap them around it. You work your mouth up and down, bobbing your head eagerly like he's about to blow his load down your throat, and—

He's going to fucking cum.

With his finger still nestled between your lips, he wrenches his boxers down his thighs and lines himself up with your entrance, ignoring how close he's suddenly teetering on the edge. His balls are already taut between his legs and it worsens as he inches in his aching, neglected tip.

"S'time, beautiful," he grits out, still tender in his touch as he splays his hand across your waist to stroke your heated skin. "You ready for me?"

You nod quickly, humming your affirmation around him, and he gives you another shallow inch. He was right. No amount of preparation was going to ease the stretch. You're gripping him so hard, it almost hurts, and the thought of how tight you'll be when you cum—he feels delirious with it.

Yes. Yes. Squeeze him. Let him feel you wringing him fucking dry. Let him pump you so full of his release, you'll be dripping him for days, an intimate, lingering reminder of this night. You have no fucking idea how long he's been waiting for this, for you. He doesn't even know your name, but that doesn't matter. Right now, all that matters is this.

This deep-seated, unspoken connection. It's been a long time. And, right now, his time is up.

He slides home in one long, deep thrust, the tip of his cock tenderly nudging your cervix, and your body struggles to accept him. He lights up every nerve ending like a live wire, drags against every sensitive pressure point in perfect succession, and your walls begin to mold around him as if they recognize the sensation. Like your body's remembering him.

Sharp nails dig into his side and drag from his shoulder down to his ass, urging him closer. You're trembling beneath him, your breasts thrumming with sharp, rapid breaths akin to a hummingbird as he fucks you further up the bed, one slow thrust at a time. You're fluttering around him, a delicate spasm and, then, an indicative clench, and it forces a sob from his chest that he barely recognizes.

That's it, beautiful. It's right there. C’mon, give it to me.

He doesn't speak it aloud. He hasn't coaxed or rushed you with his words this entire night and he's not about to start now. He knows, for some inexplicable reason, that he doesn't have to.

But you do. It's barely a whisper—a single, hushed syllable that trembles and passes your lips like a plea. A prayer only he can answer.

"Joel."

Christ. He knows you.

Christ, he's cumming.

His vision whites out, and he's only vaguely aware of his tightening grip on your hips and the long, drawn-out groan that tapers into something devastatingly familiar. Your name.

Now, it's his turn to pray. He repeats it like a mantra, breathing it into your lungs as his lips crash onto yours. It's almost as if he's afraid he'll forget it again if he stops, but your body's response quickly convinces him otherwise.

You bear down on him harder, driven closer and closer to your peak each time he calls out to you, for you. You're molten hot around him, searing each letter into his skin with every pulsing clench of your cunt, and he does the same, thick spurts coating your walls.

He can't help himself. He stays deep—he knows he shouldn't, knows how dangerous the consequences could be, but he needs to—and your ankles digging painfully into his back to hold him in place wordlessly tell him you need it, too.

So good, you're so good. You're perfect. You're his. You're—

Gushing, squeezing, finally moaning for him. You’re cumming.

With it, your orgasm brings every memory of you flooding back at once. Late summer afternoons spent in bed while Sarah visited her grandma. Champagne-flavored kisses on New Year's Eve, soundtracked by Dick Clark and cheers from the crowd in Times Square filtering through the plasma TV in his living room.

He loved you. He loved this. He should've known the moment he kissed you, the moment he saw you, but he's been surviving for so long. He can't remember the last time he lived.

Your limbs surround him, pulling his entire weight down to rest on top of you, and you continue to swivel your hips into his pelvis, riding out your high as his name falls breathily from your lips. He works you through it, frantically blinking away the sudden blur that engulfs his vision so he doesn't miss out on another moment with you. Not ever again.

He's...he's crying. He didn't even know he was capable of that anymore. Sensitivity starts to set in, in more ways than one, but he doesn't want to leave the heat of your embrace. He thinks he might break at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and seeping into the undeserving fabric of his co-opted sheets, far away from where it belongs.

But, then, your lips meet his tanned, weathered cheek—a stark contrast to the young man he was when he was yours—and you kiss away his tears. He feels more fragile than he has in decades, and that's surprisingly okay. Because you're here to protect him, now.

Trailing from the apple of his cheek to his lips, up to the years of tension creasing his forehead, back down to kiss him tenderly, you establish a comforting repetition. He chases you every time you part, but, after a while, he's struck with a realization. What you've been trying to convey with your actions all night.

You always return to him. So, maybe this was just a matter of time. A slow smile spreads across that beautiful face he hadn't allowed himself to think about since the outbreak, and you huff out an affectionate laugh, your fingertips curiously running across his back and tracing raised lines and jagged shapes you've never felt before.

"Hi, Joel," you murmur fondly, still close enough for the tacky remains of your gloss to catch his bottom lip, and his tongue darts out to taste you.

It's real—it's too vivid not to be real. His eyes dart between yours, and he can still see everything your future together was supposed to hold. He still sees forever.

"Hey, baby," he rasps, his voice thick with tears and disuse, and something unidentifiable that sounds a lot like hope.

He hasn't felt this way in a long time. Not since you.

thanks for reading!

[m4rv3l-girl]

Hi, I was wondering if you're okay with the idea I'm going to present if not totally cool, thank you anyways. So ppl seem to write smut or funny scenarios about Bucky being caught while he's helping himself thinking of y/n BUT what if y/n was helping themselves to thoughts of Bucky and he heard/saw her accidentally. Idk if you'd make it funny or smutty, just an idea. Sorry if it's bad, just thought it was fun to flip the script for once.

Caught in the act

Warning: Mentions of sex. Masturbation.

The compound was quiet. Too quiet.

Bucky Barnes had learned to trust his instincts, and right now, they were telling him something was off. Not in the “Hydra is infiltrating the base” way, but in the “where the hell is everyone?” kind of way.

Stark was off-world, Steve was doing whatever the hell Steve did in retirement, and Sam had dragged most of the team out for a long-overdue night off. Even Natasha had given him a knowing smirk and muttered something about “alone time” before slipping out the door.

Alone time. Right. Bucky had plans for that himself—something about a beer and mindlessly flipping through whatever crap was on TV. That plan changed when he walked past Y/N’s room.

Her door was cracked open. Just a sliver. He wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t hyper-aware of everything about her. It was a problem. A deep-rooted, all-consuming problem that started the first time she smiled at him like he wasn’t broken, like he was just Bucky. And now, he was stuck—caught between wanting more and knowing he shouldn’t.

He hadn’t meant to stop. Not until he heard it.

A sound. Soft, muffled. A sharp inhale followed by something dangerously close to a whimper. Bucky froze in the hall, every nerve in his body standing at attention. The part of him still wired for combat wanted to break down the door and assess the threat. The part of him hopelessly in love with her knew exactly what that sound was.

It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t distress. It was pleasure. Pure and raw and—

His stomach dropped.

Y/N was moaning. His name.

Bucky swallowed, throat dry as he stood frozen in place. He should walk away. Hell, he should run. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Instead, he shifted, inching toward the barely-open door like a damn fool.

The sight nearly knocked him flat.

Y/N was sprawled across her bed, tangled in sheets that did little to cover her. Her breasts were sat exposed to the air and her nipples were pulled into taut peaks. One hand clutched desperately at the fabric, while the other was tucked beneath the sheets - a grinding motion between her legs.

Bucky jerked back before he could see more, heart slamming against his ribs. Jesus Christ.

His name. She had been saying his name. Not some vague, desperate plea but his name, clear as day. It sent his mind spinning, heat pooling low in his gut as he realized exactly what she was doing.

The realization was a gut punch. A hard, unrelenting surge of something he wasn’t ready to name because if he did - if he let himself really feel it - he might do something reckless. Like go in there.

And yet, he didn’t move. Not even when she gasped, voice breaking on a needy whimper, not when she arched against the mattress, not when he heard her breathless, desperate murmur.

“Bucky..”

He had to go. Now.

He forced himself back, willing his body to move, but his traitorous metal arm knocked against the doorframe. The quiet clang might as well have been an explosion. He barely had time to curse before he heard her gasp, the rustling of sheets as she scrambled upright.

“Wha—?”

Busted.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself six ways to Sunday before forcing himself to turn back. Y/N was staring at him, face flushed, lips parted, breathing heavy. Every sinful detail was burned into his mind, permanently etched behind his eyelids.

“Bucky?” Her voice was unsteady. “Did you—how long were you—?”

Too long. Way too long.

His brain short-circuited, caught between apology and self-preservation. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

She looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. “Oh my God.”

“I was just walking by.”

“Walking by?” Her voice pitched higher, the embarrassment hitting full force. “And you just—decided to stop?”

“No! I mean, yes—” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I heard my name.”

Silence.

Y/N’s eyes went wide. “Oh.”

Bucky had been in some truly horrible situations in his life. This was a whole new level of hell.

“I’m gonna go.” He took a step back. “You just—do whatever it was you were—”

“Oh my God, stop talking,” she groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “Just go.”

He nodded. That was the plan. Get the hell out of there, pretend this never happened. And yet—

He didn’t move.

Y/N peeked up at him through her fingers. “Why are you still here?”

Good question. A great question. But then she licked her lips, and something in him snapped.

“Doll,” he rasped, voice lower than he meant, “were you really thinking about me?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head like that might somehow erase reality. “I will literally throw myself off this balcony.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. A dangerous, self-satisfied thing. The heat still thrumming in his veins overpowered his better judgment. “You know I’d catch you.”

Y/N groaned. “Go away.”

He should. He really, really should. But when she peeked up at him again, all flushed and guilty and absolutely wrecked, his resolve crumbled.

“Or,” he mused, stepping closer, “you could let me help.”

Y/N’s eyes shot open, meeting his. “What?”

He shrugged, trying for casual, but the heat in his gaze belied his nonchalance. “Seemed like you were having a bit of trouble there. Maybe I could—assist?”

The blush that painted her cheeks was like a neon sign flashing in the quiet of the room. She pulled the sheets to cover her face. “Buckyyy…” She whined with pathetic anger.

He couldn’t help but laugh a little, the sound rich and warm, sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m just saying, if you want a hand…”

Her head snapped up. “What? No! That’s—” But she didn’t get to finish. The words lodged in her throat when she saw his expression. He wasn’t joking. He was dead serious. And, oh God, she was seriously considering it.

“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered, closing the distance between them. “You know you want to.”

The room grew hotter, her breaths shallower. He reached out and brushed the hair from her forehead, his touch sending sparks along her skin. She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare look away from those piercing blue eyes.

“What if someone finds out?” she managed to ask.

His smile grew. “Then I guess we’d be in a bit of a jam, wouldn’t we?”

But she could see the hunger in his gaze, the same one she felt in her core.

“Was that the first time you’ve touched yourself thinking about me?” Bucky's voice was a gentle rumble, his hand now cupping her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw.

Y/N's eyes went wide, and she rolled off the bed with a thud, landing in an embarrassed heap on the floor. She curled into a ball, the sheets pooling around her, face burning hotter than the sun. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

He followed, his booted feet silent on the plush carpet. “What? That you want me?” He crouched beside her, his hand brushing over her bare shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine.

“No, that you’re actually here, and that you saw..” she mumbled into the floor. “That you’re not disgusted by me. That—”

“Disgusted?” He interrupted, voice sharp. He tugged the sheet down, forcing her to meet his gaze.

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of disdain or pity. But all she found was heat, a smoldering intensity that made her heart race. “Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I’m—”

“You’re beautiful,” he cut her off, his voice gruff. “And the fact that you were thinking about me while you were pleasing that perfect body…I never want to unsee that.”

Her eyes searched his, a mix of shock and something that looked suspiciously like hope. Bucky’s thumb brushed her bottom lip, his gaze never leaving hers. He leaned in, close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin.

“What were you thinking about..?” he whispered, his breath fanning over her.

Y/N’s eyes widened even further, and she swallowed hard. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But she knew she couldn’t lie to him. Not now. “You,” she murmured, the admission slipping out before she could think better of it. “I was thinking about you, and us, and—”

He didn’t let her finish. Bucky’s hand found hers, and he gently pulled her to her feet, the sheet slipping away to reveal her nakedness. She should have felt shy, embarrassed, but all she felt was the weight of his stare, the heat of his body.

He stood up, towering over her, and she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. “Us?” he echoed, the word thick with meaning.

Her heart thudded in her chest, the air between them thick with anticipation. “Yeah,” she said, her voice a mere breath.

“What exactly?” He asked, almost out of breath.

Y/N looked up at him, her cheeks aflame, but she didn’t back down. “You know what. Us together. Like—uhm…” She stumbled over the words, her heart hammering.

Bucky’s grip on her hand tightened, his eyes searching hers. “Like what?” he prompted, his voice softer now.

“Like making love,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her admission. She watched his expression, waiting for the rejection, the amusement. But instead, she saw something good flicker in his eyes. Desire. Need.

He took a step closer, his chest brushing hers. “Is that so?” he murmured.

Y/N nodded, feeling the warmth of his body against her own, the heat from his gaze searing through her.

Bucky’s thumb stroked the inside of her wrist, his touch feather-light but leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “And here I thought you were just passing the time while everyone was out.”

“It’s not just passing the time for me,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. She searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt, but all she found was an intensity that mirrored her own.

For a moment, the world outside of Y/N’s room ceased to exist. There were no missions, no alien threats, no superhero personas to uphold—just her and Bucky, standing in the quiet embrace of the night. The air grew thick with tension, each breath they took charged with the electricity of possibility.

His free hand came up, cupping her face, tilting it back until their eyes were locked. His thumb traced her cheekbone, sending shivers down her neck. “I’ve done it too.” he said softly…

——————————————————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed it, Hun. I really liked writing this. 🫶

Maybe a part 2..? 🤔

[misctf]

This is an ask for the "Welcome to the Crew" but what if a preppy rich guy got one of the drinks slipped to him from a guy that he used to bully. He drinks it not knowing the effects.

“It’s been so long.”

Dustin frowns as he made his way down the busy street, taking in the scene before him. It had been some time since he’d return to the small town where he spent high school. And while he always remembered hating it, he couldn’t deny the nostalgia brewing inside him.

“Weird to be back.” He thinks, “Just don’t know why dad picked this place for such a big talk.” He enters the lively sports bar, avoiding eye contact with the patrons, “Dad always loved this kind of atmosphere.” He thinks bitterly, “He didn’t even know how stupid he looked.” Dustin recalled his dad getting laughed at and judged as a coastal elite behind his back.  

Despite being wealthy, his father’s humble roots certainly came through. His dad wanted to move here, taking his family from their mansion on the coast to this smaller, midwestern town. Dustin recalled the fights they had over this decision. How stupid he thought his dad was- and how stupid it made Dustin look. So to compensate, he’d flaunt his superiority to the poorer kids at school. Not his proudest moments. Dustin cringed at the memory. In truth, as time went on and he matured, he realized how terrible he’d been.  

“I’ve changed.” He thought, “God I was such an asshole back then.” He looks down at his phone, noticing a text from his dad saying he was running late, “Oh well.” He looked around, smiling when he saw an open stool at the bar, “Might as well.”

Dustin sat at the bar, noticing he looked a bit out of place amongst the patrons. They were going on about the big game on the TV. Yelling at the screen and cursing when their team lost yards. He remembered his dad would act similarly if you got him really riled up. Probably why Dustin rejected football and focused on golf when growing up.

“They’re really getting into it.” Dustin thought, “I forgot how much the town livens up.” He looks up to be greeted by the sight of the bartender, a flash of recognition passing over him, “Eric?” He smiles, “Eric, is that you?”

“Dustin?” Eric’s tone is far less jovial, “I reckon I recognized you.”

Dustin’s smile faltered, “Yeah... well how’s it going?”

Memories of his times insulting and belittling Eric made their way to the surface. It always seemed odd to outsiders. Eric was a bigger guy, always had been. Bulky with both fat and muscle. He could’ve probably broken the lean Dustin in two had he wanted. But Eric was gentle. He took Dustin’s disparaging remarks about his family’s poverty, repeated years in school, and brutish appearance in stride. And while Dustin made his life a living hell, while also charming everyone else around him, Eric took it.

“Besides,” Eric had once remarked to a smug Dustin, “you must be pretty miserable yourself if you treatin’ others this way.”

Dustin frowned as he recalled these memories. And while his time away from town helped him grow up and recognize how much of an asshole he was, he knew he couldn’t make up for the hell he put some of these people through.

“I’m good. You?”

“I’m meeting my dad today. He wants to discuss my position on the board.” Dustin noticed a spark of irritation in Eric’s wary eyes, “I uh... nice tattoos.” He said awkwardly, gazing at the man’s thick arm, adorned in a full sleeve.

“Thank ya.” Eric replied, glaring at Dustin. The younger man shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the two silent for just a moment, “Where are my manners?” A sly smile formed on Eric’s bearded face, “Congratulations, you must be excited!”

Dustin’s smile returned, “I really am. Thank you.” He watches as Eric grabbed a beer and pour it into a glass.

“On the house.” Eric leaned forward, “Got this just a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, well thank you.” Dustin remarks.

Part of him wants to turn it down, but another part of him wants to show he appreciates Eric’s kindness. To put the past behind them. As he takes a swig of the beer, a tingling sensation spreads through his body. At first, it felt pleasant, like a warm glow emanating from his core. But soon, his stomach began to churn and roil, as if a cauldron of acid was bubbling up inside him.

“Whoa, what's happening?” Dustin gasped, setting the glass down hastily.

He clutched his abdomen, doubling over in discomfort. The burps started soon after, loud and uncontrollable. Each one echoed through the bar, drawing curious glances from the other patrons. Dustin's face turned a deep shade of crimson as he tried to muffle the embarrassing sounds with his hand.

“I think I need to get out of here.” He gasped.

Eric chuckled, “Aw, come on Dustin, it ain't that bad! You're just experiencing the magic of Gridiron Brew.”

As if on cue, Dustin let out another thunderous belch, causing several nearby patrons to look, “Nice one, man!” One called out, followed by other. Despite the cheers, the poor guy looked absolutely mortified, sweat beading on his forehead.

“I'm serious, Eric, I don't feel right.” Dustin wheezed, still clutching his gut.

Dustin's discomfort quickly morphed into astonishment as he felt a strange sensation coursing through his body. His muscles, previously lean and wiry, began to swell and thicken, growing larger with each passing second. At first, it was just a subtle increase in bulk, almost imperceptible. But soon, the transformation accelerated, and Dustin found himself engulfed in a whirlwind of rapid growth.

“Ah fuck....” He groaned, gripping his shirt tightly.

With a loud rip, Dustin tore his once-pristine button-up shirt apart, sending buttons flying across the bar floor. He stood before Eric, his chest now heaving with broad, defined pecs, and powerful shoulders that looked capable of crushing steel. His lean arms now bulged with rippling slabs of meat, veins pulsating beneath his skin.

“Holy shit, what's happening to me?!” Dustin exclaimed, gawking at his newfound muscular physique. 

It was a physique of all the stupid jocks he’d seen on campus. And as he ran a hand of his chiseled torso and meaty pecs, he could feel his stomach churning. As if on cue, another loud belch ripped through his body, followed by a series of increasingly disturbing noises from deeper within his gut.

“N-no... please, whatever you've done, reverse it!” Dustin begged Eric desperately, fear etched on his face as he stumbled backward.

And as Dustin backed away from Eric, a strange sensation crept across his smooth, hairless muscles. Dark brown fur erupted from every bulging fiber, covering him from neck to toe in a thick coat of dense body hair. It itched horribly, causing him to scratch at his transformed torso with shaking hands.

“H-hair?! Oh god, what the f-fuck is happening?!” Dustin shrieked in horror, suddenly catching a glimpse in the mirror mounted above the bar. He gasped as he watched his golden locks fall from his head, “My hair...” He whispered, feeling the unfamiliar smoothness of his bald head, “Make it stop! Please!”

He turned towards Eric, who placed a ball cap on Dustin's head, "Gotta show some team spirit." He motioned towards the TV above the bar.

And as Dustin's eyes settled on the big game he felt content. Despite the ongoing turmoil wracking his body, Dustin found himself inexplicably drawn to the spectacle unfolding on the television.

“Look at that tackling! Fucking beautiful!” Dustin bellowed, slapping a large, meaty palm against the countertop. He grabbed a glass and took another swig of the beer.

And as he drank, Dustin's thoughts drifted to simpler times – high school football games, weekends spent cheering on his teammates, relishing in the brotherhood forged on the field. Yet, a nagging sense of disconnection tugged at the edges of his consciousness. Football? Hadn't he spent his time on the pristine fairways of golf courses?

“Nah...” Dustin shook his head, dismissing the nagging doubts. Golf was for rich guys who couldn't rough it; real men played football.

While his memories shifted away from the preppy golfer, thickening fat layers accumulated around his muscular frame, encasing his biceps and pecs in a soft, flabby padding. His six-pack abs dissolved into a protruding beer gut. Despite the addition of fat, his underlying musculature remained evident, he wasn't just chubby, but more ruggedly built.

“Damn, if I ever got in shape again, I'd crush those punks on the field!” Dustin boasted, his belly jiggling with each enthusiastic gesture. He laughed heartily, the sound rumbling deep within his barrel chest, “Man, I miss those days...” He smirked at Eric, “So when are ya done with this shift. No offense, but I'd rather be outside drinkin’ and celebratin’ than all cooped up in here.”

“All done, bro.” Eric smirks, “C’mon, it’s been a bit since we’ve hung out.”

As they exited the bar, Eric led the way onto the sidewalk. Dustin lagged behind, holding the heavy wooden door open for a well-dressed man hurrying inside. For a fleeting instant, their eyes locked - the suited businessman's eyes casting judgment, likely amused by the scruffy, beer-bellied hulk blocking his path. And then the door closes, Dustin turning to Eric.

“He looks like he's got a couple million stuck up his ass.” Dustin chuckled, “Always playing the rich card. Probably pays someone to polish his balls daily.”

Eric snorted, shaking his head in amusement, “Sounds about right.”

And as the two walked down the bustling sidewalk, their boisterous laughter filled the air. The two buddies sharing stories of their shared high-school days- their triumphs on the field and love for the game. Dustin settling nicely into his new life as a small-town ex-jock, his best days already far behind him.

[bunny-jpeg]

hi Bunny! Could you do a croissant and root beer and whatever’s on the house with Lewis Hamilton?

bakery menu

want to put in your own order? hit me up! i'm still accepting orders! we're always serving up smiles! for this, i went with a mafia au route, the idea of lewis in a crisp suit was ratting around in my jellybean brain, haha. i thought of him teasing horner!reader

croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + root beer (filming/recording) + on the house (choice:size kink)

cw: smut/pwp, horner!reader, missionary, size kink, photo-taking,

"i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

you looked at lewis before he pressed his lips up against your neck. his hands were palming your breasts as he rubbed his hard cock against you.

"you're really pretty when you're under me." he chuckled, he loved taking you in the missionary position. he loved the small movements in your face as you try to take all of him. it was honestly so endearing that you were trying so hard to get all of himself inside of you.

you two were forbidden lovers! or at least that was what the gossip rags said about you. when the paparazzi got a photo of you stumbling out of a club, or him with his arm around you.

there was a photo that was circulated that was certain you two were together because it was you whispering in his ear at a carnival in some small town, but from the angle it looked like you two were kissing. didn't help the photo right after was you two sharing a sweet smile.

you were the off limits daughter of christian horner. you had spent your entire life around a paddock, so the pretty smiles of the drivers never fazed you. except for lewis hamilton, who came into your life like an inferno.

while a heartthrob across many countries, you started out as friends. but, even forest fires started as a spark. and you were at lewis' for the weekend after lying to your father about seeing a few of your friends from uni.

"does he know? i wonder if he talks about me?" lewis chuckled when he took your weekend bag from your hand and put it to the side. waiting any longer for you felt impossible.

his hands slid up from under your shirt as he pressed a searing kiss to your jaw. you felt hot all over at the feeling of his against your flesh. he was the kind of lover that made you heart hammer in your chest enough that you scrambled to get the shirt off over your head.

"i can see why he's so protective of his daughter, you're beautiful." he said, "pretty thing around the paddock will turn a few heads." he laughed, "but no one knows you're here with me tonight." he kissed at your jaw and held onto your shoulders. he then moved to your lips and kissed you deeply.

"stop talking about my father." you groaned.

"why? i thought you were a proud horner." he chuckled, "don't want to talk about dear old father in the bedroom?" he rubbed himself up against you.

"you prick." you said, your lips close to his.

he chuckled, "you love me." then took you by the back of the head and pulled you in for a hot kiss. his other hand was on the waistband of your pants to get them off of you. he had enough of waiting.

he needed his sweet girl.

the trek to his bedroom felt long because he was trying to get your shorts off before you reached the room. then when you finally got on the bed, you got your pants and underwear off. which left you in your bra and lewis was admiring the sight of you.

he palmed the front of his pants and admired you. you were beautiful, the sight of you left his mouth dry as he looked at you. how did a guy like horner have a daughter so beautiful?

he got onto the bed beside you and got off his sweater before he pulled you close to him and then further onto the bed. you laid tangled up in one another as he kissed down your neck. his soft lips felt so good against you.

his hands massaged your breasts. he whispered sweet praise against your skin as you felt so close to him. it was amazing. he made a heat run through you as you laid there next to him.

"such a pretty girl." he admitted, "i can't get enough of you. they shouldn't let you in the paddock because you're so much of a distraction."

you held the man's face, looked in his eyes and said, "i thought i was your good luck charm?"

he smiled, not the one for the cameras. but one that held a genuine truth, he pressed his nose against yours and with his eyes closed, replied, "of course. i just think you should be wearing my number so no one gets the wrong idea."

"you menace."

"only for you."

once you two were fully naked, you rubbed up against him. you laid cuddled up in each other's arms as you felt him up. he kissed you once more before he got you onto your back and was between your legs.

he gazed at you lovingly as he wrapped your legs around his waist. he leaned over you, hand on your face as he kissed you gently once more. you felt like a dream to him, a perfect woman for him to indulge in. to love.

maybe you two did have a back and forth, but deep down the feelings for you were painfully true. it was now just a game of chicken until one of you admitted to the other.

"i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." he said softly, hands on your breasts.

you wanted to throw a pillow at him as you responded, "enough about my father or i'm going home."

he chuckled and gave you one last, almost sweet, kiss on the cheek before he grabbed you by this hip with one hand and his cock with the other. he maintained eye contact as he watched your face change as he push his cock into you.

he was impressive in size, sort of big compared to you. that gleaming smile and strong arms made you feel protected. your heart leapt as you felt his cock being buried into you.

he liked that he was bigger than you, sometimes he'd press his palm up against yours and point out the difference. it was cute, "it's not your fault you're so small. means that i just have to protect you."

but at that moment, you could really feel the difference as lewis gave you gentle praise.

you tensed up but his soft words against you managed to make you relax a little. he got his cock into you to the base and shuddered at the feeling of your tight cunt around him. you felt so good.

he smiled at you, feeling the sweat already at the back of his neck. he smiled at you. no one could deny that he was handsome, you remember his little fan club. you'd often scoff at it. if they saw you now.

you kissed once more as you began to move against one another. you gripped onto his shoulders as he held you by waist. his lips were on your neck, occasionally dragged his front teeth against your skin, threatening to bruise it.

he thought about making a comment about your father once more. really rub it in, but as your expression started to look more relaxed and blissed out. he couldn't bring himself to say it. call him soft.

he continued to rut into you, his heart hammered in his chest as he held you close to him. his chest pressed against yours, your nails dug into his massive back tattoo as the two of you continued to kiss.

it felt primal and hot, it made you core feel like an inferno as you moved. you moaned a little.

"you should be wearing my number next time." he said, "i'll even be nice and say it doesn't even have to be mercedes branded. i know your dad would have a fit if he saw that. remember the ferrari temporary tattoo."

you rolled your eyes, "what did i say about my father, lewis." you remembered the event quite well. you managed to get a ferrari temporary tattoo on your arm as a joke and your father gave you a stern talking to. especially because it was clearly seen in most photos of the event.

you thought it was funny, but you didn't want your old man yapping at you if you strolled up in a mercedes shirt and lewis on your arm.

you kissed once more, you felt the curl of orgasm in your gut as he moved against you. you held his face as you kissed him. you felt warmth pool in your gut.

you held onto him tighter as you felt the orgasm swirl in your body. you panted close to him and said, "i'm close. shit, lewis."

he nodded, "perfect. cum for me, pretty girl." he made it his mission to make you finish. he tightened his grip onto you and really put in the work.

it wasn't long before you were holding onto him as tightly as you could. you tensed up around him and let out a cute, almost pathetic moan as you came.

you still held onto him as you relaxed and let him continue to fuck you. his orgasm was close behind as he really thrusted up into you. your pussy was a wet heat that made his head spin as he finally got to his peak and finished inside of you.

he admired the sight of your face as he moved through his orgasm. he eventually slowed down to a stop and panted heavily as he looked down at you. he admired the sight of you for a moment, he kissed you once more and said.

"i really wonder if your father knows. about all this. that you'll one day be my mrs. hamilton." he smiled as he gave you a soft thrust in effect.

"shut up, hamilton." you said as you reached to his face and covered it with your hand.

you laid there in a sweaty mess. you watched lewis get out of bed to grab his phone from his pants pocket. he came back and knelt between your legs. earlier he wanted to film the entirety of you fucking, but thing moved a little too fast for that.

he did however prod at your pussy with his fingers and watched his pearly cum ooze of your fucked hole. he filmed it briefly for his personal collection. how he ruined horner's daughter for any other man.

when he finished filming, he took a few photos of you naked body. he'll be needing this in the weeks to come. in fairness, if he ruined you for other men. then you ruined him for other women.

one last picture of your pretty pussy and he was content.

"lewis." you said.

"yes?" he asked as he got a close up photo of your face as you still panted heavily, coming down from your high. the sight made him hard once more.

"oh, you pervert." you said as you reached for him.

-

the following weekend you were around the paddock as usual. you had greeted your father earlier and he was happy to see you. you kept your hands behind your back as to make sure your old man didn't see what was around your wrist.

but when lewis saw it, he felt a curl of possessiveness in his gut. he even went as far as to take your wrist and looked at the gold bracelet. on it was a charm that was two simple numbers, '44'. lewis kissed your wrist and looked into your eyes.

"next time." he said, "i'll get you something a little more noticeable. that you can't hide from your dad." he chuckled. he really was a menace. <3

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | prologue

Summary: Meet The Avengers, the infamous friendship group. Known for causing trouble all around town, and being feared by all. Expect the youngest member of the group, she was different and she was protected.

Warning: Smoking. Alcohol. Crying.

Word Count: 1179

Spotify Playlist | Tips

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: The final results of the poll were 68.4% in favor of posting this now so here you go. I really hope I did this idea justice and you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think <3

Tags: buckys0whore |

The bar hummed with music, laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional roar of a motorcycle outside. In the corner booth, among the haze of cigarette smoke and the dim glow of neon lights, sat a group of friends, claimed as The Avengers. 

Bucky Barnes leaned back in the booth, his eyes constantly scanning the room with a gaze as piercing as the edge of his knife. His presence commanded respect anywhere he went, without raising his voice. He was an enigma wrapped in leather.

A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he observed the scene at the bar. Your presence was a stark contrast to the rough ambiance of the bar. Dressed in a delicate flowing dress, out of place amidst the leather and tattoos, you were the embodiment of vulnerability in a world that praised itself on toughness. Your gaze darted nervously around the room as you waited for your drink. 

Bucky’s grip tightened around the beer bottle he had been nursing as he watched the bartender lean close to you. His jaw clenched with a quiet intensity, some instinct urged him to intervene, to protect you from whatever the guy was trying to do. But, before he could make a move he noticed Steve, your older brother and his best friend, standing closer to you. It was obvious from Steve’s expression and assertive stance that he was telling the bartender to step back.

Turning back his attention to the booth, he caught Natasha’s knowing smirk and Sam’s amused glance. They also had been watching the scene at the bar and offered small nods of approval toward Steve as you both made your way to the booth with the drinks. You were a tight-knit group, and there was an unspoken understanding that you would always protect one another. Mostly, it was you that they were protecting.

Your emotions began to bubble to the surface, tears threatened to spill over. The reasons for them, you were unsure of. Was it the presence of the new bartender? Perhaps Steve’s protective demeanor had caused them. Or maybe it was simply the atmosphere of smoke and dust. Regardless, as you settled back into the booth, the sight of Bucky’s eye-rolling toward you only worsened the urge to cry.

“Spill the beans, crybaby,” Bucky’s voice cut through the chatter of your friends around you. “What’s the verdict today? Tears of joy or sadness?” his tone dripping with sarcasm as he leaned forward.

Your cheeks flushed, and you tilted your head up hoping gravity will stop the tears from spilling. “I, I don’t know,” you mumbled softly, your voice barely audible over the noise of the bar.

As the night wore on, the bar grew increasingly rowdy and you found yourself retreating into the safety of your thoughts. No matter how hard you tried to hide your teary eyes, you couldn’t escape Bucky’s watchful gaze. 

~

As closing time drew near, there was a subtle shift that settled over the group, a silent acknowledgment that their night was coming to an end. With reluctant sighs, you began to gather your belongings. The rest of your friends picked up their packets of cigarettes and leather jackets, as you picked up your sketchbook and pencil. Preparing to leave the warmth of the bar for the cold embrace of the night, you begin to make your way to the exit. 

Bucky remained rooted in his spot in the booth, his gaze fixed on some unseen point around the bar. “Hey, Buck, you coming?” Steve called out, his voice tinged with concern as he glanced back at his friend. 

You could almost see the cogs working in his mind as he hesitated, clenching his jaw. “I think I’ll stay a bit longer,” he finally replied, his voice low. 

Wanda arched an eyebrow, confusion took over her features as Natasha spoke for you all, “Everything okay, Barnes?” she asked, her tone laced with curiosity. 

He offered you all a tight-lipped smile, a silent reassurance that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah I’m fine,” he beamed at you all with an uncharacteristic glee. His gaze flickered over to you for a brief moment before returning to your friends. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” 

With reluctant nods and murmured goodbyes, you and the rest of The Avengers made your way out of the bar, leaving Bucky alone. As the door swung shut behind you, Bucky let out a heavy sigh before making his way over to the bar.

~

With a heavy sigh, Bucky climbed the stairs to your apartment door, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. An hour must have passed since you would have gotten home. As he reached the familiar door, he hesitated for a moment, his already grazed knuckles hovering over the wood before finally summoning the courage to knock. 

The door swung open, revealing your concerned expression as you took in the sight of him standing on her doorstep, a black eye already began to form. 

“Bucky? What happened?” you exclaimed, your voice filled the air with concern as you ushered him inside.

He offered you a weary smile, his gaze met yours with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion. “You should have seen the other guy,” he replied, his smile turning into a playful smirk. 

You arched an eyebrow skeptically, as you gestured for him to take a seat at the kitchen table. “Let’s just get you patched up,” you sent him a reassuring smile as you moved around your kitchen to fetch the first aid kit. 

As you began cleaning and dressing his wounds, he couldn’t help but marvel at the tenderness of your touch. Your hands moved with practiced precision while you stood in between his tights. Despite his attempts to downplay his injuries, he winced slightly as the antiseptic stung, his jaw clenching. 

A wave of emotion washed over you, and tears began to well up in your eyes, a silent testament to the guilt you carried from causing him more pain and discomfort. 

Bucky’s heart clenched at the sight of your tears, forgetting about his own pain momentarily as he reached out to gently cup your cheeks, wiping away the evidence of her distress. A gesture as gentle as it was instinctual. “Hey, what’s wrong?”  he asked softly, his hand never leaving your cheek.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering away from his as you struggled to find the words you wanted to say, “I, I don’t like when you’re hurt,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. 

A pang of guilt twisted in his chest as he realized the hurt he was causing. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret as he felt your tears dampen his skin. “I’m sorry,” 

In the warmth of his embrace, you found comfort, and the weight of your worries subsided by the rhythm of his heartbeat. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, calming your emotions with every passing second.

---

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

[the-thing-withfeathers]

high up | cowgirl!madison beer

fluff, & smut.

a/n: hello again my loves 🥰 i’ve missed you all. i’m sorry for being gone so long but i’m back and better than ever. hopefully this suffices as an apology for leaving you all for a bit.

‼️smut warnings: semi-public sex, strap on usage, hair pulling, rough sex, slight degradation & humiliation.

𐚁 𓃗𐚁 𓃗𐚁 𓃗

a whole year had passed since you set foot on the farm. since you and madison met and started your whirlwind romance. a whole year and you were the happiest you’d ever been.

while you celebrated the exact one year marker with your grandparents, feasting over your grandmother’s chili, madison had suggested you two spend your one year together back in the city.

initially, you were reluctant to go. all your favorite spots were in the country. everywhere you and mads had spent making memories rested in the peace of the farm.

but she was persistent, and you knew your girlfriend wouldn’t relent. she argued that you spent a whole year learning the ins and outs of her biome. it was time for her to learn more about your roots too.

so the two of you found yourselves in madison’s truck, pulling into the parking of your condominium. you two had done the trip yourselves despite your parents offering, but you wanted the insurance of madison’s truck around in case she needed to get back.

your parents had been out working when the two of you arrived. you unlocked the front door to your penthouse apartment, welcoming madison into your home.

as madison stepped in, she marvelled at the space the penthouse offered. she knew your family had money, but now she was seeing it.

she was greeted with marble floors leading into carpeted ones depending on where you went and a massive living room with tall windows that looked like they could go on for miles.

you went to put your stuff in your room but she was left stunned. you poked your head back out to check on her and smiled at the sight of her mouth agape.

“like what you see?” you teased her, bringing her out of her daze.

“i’ve never been this high off the ground before. we’re practically in the clouds!” she exclaimed, taking her hat off.

you stepped closer to her and took her hat from her, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards your room, walking backwards. you held a mischievous smirk on your face, one she knew too well.

when you opened the door to your room, you giggled at her face. your room had a wide rectangular window that covered the entire wall, overlooking the city below.

your room was… so you, madison thought. it was littered with small trinkets that she found adorable. the wallpaper was your favorite color, she started to grow fonder of it when she learned how much you loved it.

she stepped closer to your vanity mirror, admiring the photos that were attached to it. photos of you and your friends, photos of you and your parents. even a few baby pictures. she was deep in thought again, but you were quick to make sure she didn’t get too absorbed by her own mind.

“hey.” you said, practically barking a little at her. she quickly spun around, catching the tail end of you dropping your dress for it to pool at your feet.

you opted for comfort on the drive, which meant wearing this dress that drove madison crazy. it was loose on you but still showed your figure off perfectly. but she enjoyed it off just as much.

“did you wanna get a closer look at this window?” you side eyed the window while madison reached for her bag.

“hell yeah i do.” she whipped out the strap-on like she had x-ray vision and knew exactly where it was.

she threw the strap-on onto the bed for the meantime, walking closer to you and capturing your lips in a kiss with many words. she missed you while on that drive, having to focus on the drive.

you were the object of her affection, she could never go for very long without trying to show her love for you.

she pulled you closer by your waist, stepping forward and backing you up until your ass and back were against the cold glass of the window. you squealed a little, the chill sending goosebumps across your skin. she swallowed every noise you made.

you unbuttoned madison’s shirt, pushing it off and yanking it until it untucked from her jeans. you made quick work of her belt, pulling it off in one swift motion and getting her jeans off. she pulled away to put the strap on around her hips.

you watched her with your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes never leaving her body. no matter how many times you’d seen her naked, you found her absolutely flawless.

she got close to you again, her chest pressing against yours as she kissed you. you felt her fingers slip between your drenched folds, a smile plastered across her face.

“so wet already baby, we just got here!” she snickered and dropped to her knees, lifting one of your legs to rest on her shoulder. she buried her tongue between your folds, your breath hitching as an immediate reaction.

despite being out of her comfort zone, madison felt good with you. being so high up in the clouds with the bustling city beneath you both, it worried her a little bit. but her heart beat for you, and in turn you promised to make yourself a safe place for her with your legs wrapped around her head.

“shit!” your body jolted as her lips wrapped around her clit, sucking and flicking with her tongue. she slipped a finger into you as your head fell back against the glass.

she knew how to work you perfectly, being alone on the farm gave you two a lot of privacy to get to know each other on an intimate level. a hand of hers ran up your body, squeezing one of your tits, the mix of stimulation caused your head to spin.

you’d missed her like this, it wasn’t going to take long until…

“mads… mads…” you tapped the top of her head. “i don’t wanna cum yet.” you warned, not wanting to get too tired yet. you were both exhausted from the drive but refused to hold yourselves back from intimacy.

“okay, princess. want me to fuck you then?” she asked, her southern drawl felt more prominent when she was out of her natural habitat.

“please…” you begged. she nodded and quickly spun you, your hands pressing against the glass window. she pushed you forward, your tits and face against the glass now too.

“c’mon, baby. be good for me. show them how good i fuck you.” she said, slowly inserting the 8-inch silicone dick into you. you whined at the intrusion, trying to find something to grasp onto. your efforts were futile as all there was in your reach was the window pane.

madison started slow, wanting to make sure you were comfortable. in truth, this was turning you on so much that you wouldn’t have cared. looking down at the city below, knowing madison would have no problem fucking you on the sidewalk if you asked.

she wanted them to know that she would fuck you better than anyone could. she wanted you to know that your pussy was eternally hers and hers only.

“you’re being so good for me.” she grunted in your ear, pressing her chest against your back as her fist circled in your hair, tugging softly. “want everyone to know how good i make you feel. i make you feel good, don’t i?”

“yeah! yeah… mads, right there! fuck! don’t fucking stop!” you cried out, gasping for air. her sneaky fingers made their way to your cunt again, rubbing quick circles around your clit.

your eyes squeezed shut, the pleasure getting to you. madison was now thrusting harder into you, hitting that spongy spot that made you see stars.

“don’t you wanna cum for me, darlin’? wanna see you cum on my cock.” she whispered into your ear, peppering kisses on your back.

madison’s verbal encouragement was enough to push you over the edge, slick juices coating her strap as you reached your orgasm.

“ah! fuck!” you called out as you came on her cock and fingers, you heaved as your body relaxed.

madison wasn’t done yet though.

she spun you back around and pushed you to your knees, pushing the tip of the strap against your lips. you eagerly took it in your mouth, sucking your cum off as madison watched you.

you caught as her stomach flexed, knowing the friction of the strap against her own wetness would be enough to finish her off too. you bobbed your head at a rapid pace to assist her in reaching her own orgasm.

“yeah, baby. i love the way you take me in your mouth.” she leaned forward. her hand pressed up against the glass as she towered over you, tryung to keep herself stable. “keep going, princess.”

her breathing got shaky as she commanded you, your hands got thrown into the mix to help jerk her off, rubbing at the places your throat couldn’t reach.

“that’s it, baby. doin’ so fuckin— ah!” she groaned softly, reaching her peak. her legs shaking a little while she released all over the strap on.

she paused for a second, you backed off and helped her take it off, letting the dildo drop to the floor. you stood and grabbed her hand again, walking her to the bed.

you gently pushed her down onto the mattress and she moaned at the touch.

“holy shit, this bed is so comfy.” she adjusts her position so you can take your place on her chest. you put your head on her and kissed her gently.

“you’re comfy.”

𐚁 𓃗𐚁 𓃗𐚁 𓃗

a/n: heyyy… i know this was a short one but i fully intend for a part 2 to this madison in the city era. it’ll be a bit longer cause there will be a proper storyline but i wanted to post something to let you all know i was still around. sooo much love. i adore you all.

[bbokicidal]

Smile For Me .:. Hwang Hyunjin .:. 10/10/2024

Genre : Smut Pairing : Ghostface!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Warnings : Height difference, mention of Hyunjin being physically bigger, stronger, taller, etc., face fucking (hard), rough sex, mirror sex, tiny surprise at the end !!

Notes : Again, a bit of a shorter post but I did my best here. I really had no motivation to write this bc of my brain feeling fried but I wanted to get it out for you guys. Ty for staying tuned. <3

Kinktober Day 4 of 10 : Size Difference w/ Hyunjin

Word Count : 3.3K

Next Post : 10/16/24

"What's a sweet thing like you doing at a party alone?"

The voice is enough to startle you into turning fully around, the drink in your hand sloshing aggressively in your cup and spilling over white knuckles. A gasp escapes your lips to show just how surprised you are by the man suddenly talking behind you. The voice changer definitely flipped a panic switch in your body.

"Well?" He questions.

The man is - well...

He's tall. Very tall, in fact, compared to you. Six foot at least if you had to guess. With broad shoulders and arms hanging down by his sides as he stands before you. The only reason you can even tell he's looking at you is because of the way his head tilts when you still fumble to answer; Though he doesn't seem to understand just yet that it's from both fear and arousal jolting through your limbs at the sight of a Ghostface costume looming over you.

The man's head cocks once more, a gentle nudge in an attempt to get an answer. Subtle prying.

You fumble, spit coating your lower lip as it escapes your teeth. "Just - came to drink."

Stupid answer to a genuine (?) question. Now this man - potentially.. dangerous - knew that you actually were alone and drinking by yourself.

Then again, even if he was potentially dangerous; He was undeniably sexy.

Or maybe that was your inner mask kink screaming.

The man leans in further to close the distance between your bodies, taking one step forward in a heavy combat boot that nearly stepped on the pink of your heel. Your eyes stay on the mask glaring down at you and as he leans in, you get the slightest glimpse of dark eyes hidden beneath the black mesh.

A soft tug pulls on your skirt, and when you look down you realize it's his hand pinching the fabric.

"You got a boyfriend hangin' around here, doll?"

You swallow, every word you thought to say somehow lumping in your throat. What about him was making it so hard to speak?

"I..."

His head tips upwards when someone calls for him, but with your ears ringing and head spinning from the closeness of his warmth - and his heavy cologne weighing down on his costume - you'd never even heard the name called that had summoned him.

He lets out a breath that you swear you can almost feel even if it's trapped behind the mask. Straightening up, looming over you once more, he takes his leave in slow and planned steps around your frame. His hand drags over the soft skin of your thigh as he passes, the leather glove making goosebumps raise in pink.

"Coming..~"

.

The alcohol had taken its toll whether you liked it or not - and it was time to break the seal. Unless you wanted to piss all over the couch.

The drunken contemplation makes you chuckle to yourself, eyes rolling back as your lips split in a silly grin, while your hand escapes the frosted - and spiked - root beer float sitting on the end table. With a soft excuse of your body, you slip off of the couch cushion that had held your weight to make way for the restroom just down the hallway.

It's a little wobble here and there, but you manage to make it to the bathroom door with the sturdy support of the pretty blue walls adorning the campus home. And just as you reach for the doorknob, you realize it's - very close to you. The door is shut, locked actually, and you blink a few times in realization that someone was already in there.

The knob twists once, then jerks away from your hold. You step forward and lull to look up at the poor person you'd disturbed - only to be met with the sight of the familiar slasher from earlier - buttoning the black jeans that he adorns underneath the costume he wears. And you just can't help but stare at the way his long fingers prod at the fabric of the gloves, pushing the button through the hole in the denim and seeing the way the visible bulge beneath the fabric seems to grow more defined.

He sighs out behind the mask, head tipping closer to his shoulder as if analyzing you and just why you're there - yet again in front of him. You can't see it - but his brow cocks behind his mask.

"Pervert."

And you jolt, nearly jumping out of your skin once again at the voice changer. You shudder out a breath, looking up finally at the mask once more. There's a person underneath there, you have to remember. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize." His voice lulls into a soft growl at the end, coming closer to where you stand in the hallway, frozen. You think he'll close the distance once more - but he stops short in the doorway. And you think you're safe.

Until he's lifting an arm to rest against the frame, making himself look even taller than previously. His free hand tucks down into his pocket, pushing up his costume so you can clearly see where it goes.

"But did you need something?"

Your breath hitches in your throat once more, and as you breathe out you end up whining. "I really need to pee."

The man behind the mask pauses. Visibly halts. Before a rumbling chuckle escapes his chest, distorted and cracking with the voice changer. "Alright, can't deny you that right." He steps aside from the frame and gestures into the bathroom. "To your throne, my lady."

It was at that moment that you realized - even if he was a hot masked man at a Halloween party - he was definitely a loser in a hot body.

.

One hour later is when you finally spot it.

You see him; out of the corner of your eye, lurking by the kitchen island and facing your direction as to see if you'll catch him looking directly at you. He's making it blatantly obvious that he's staring and that's what he's trying to do - wanting to gauge your reaction, see if you'll notice and catch on.

And when you do, you stare back for a moment as your friend babbles to a man beside her about some group drama happening the week prior.

He doesn't move.

Your head slowly tips to the left, his mirroring to the right. And you're very sure then that he's keeping his eyes on you and waiting for you to make a move.

The buzz in your chest could be from the alcohol - or the bubbling arousal that had already begun to seep towards your core.

Turning from your spot and gently slipping past your friend, you make your way back towards the hallway you had previously met him in. Pausing at the entrance, you turn to look over your shoulder and see him slipping away from his own friends to trail after your retreating form.

Like he'd let you get away that easily.

.

Your body is so compliant with him - bending to his every will and leaning into his touch even if it's not skin to skin. Your throat burns from where he had his hand wrapped around it, fingers tight enough to make you worry about the lack of air slipping down your trachea and into your lungs. But nothing - can draw your attention away from the heat pooling between your thighs - and the way his free hand had already slipped down to caress the softness of your center. It's as if he's attempting to ease the ache, even if he's only making it worse.

Your hands had just found home on his sides when he had begun to push down on your throat; But not in a way that restricted breathing. He was guiding you down towards the ground and your body, ever wanting, once again complied.

Sinking to your knees and letting your hands drag from his sides to his hips, the man above you looks - far larger than he ever had that evening. Looming? No. Towering over you now. With thick, heavy thighs right in your face and a bulge pressing against the denim of his jeans, he bunches the length of the costume in one hand and tucks it into the sides of the denim waistband so it's out of the way. Easy access, he's sure, watching as you sit so patiently in front of his pulsing cock.

He sighs out once more and lowers his head in a sharp nod, gesturing for you to do the work. You seem happy enough to do so - fingers fumbling with the button you'd stared at earlier in the night and tugging at the fly of his jeans. It rips downwards and he has to sway forward at the way you so eagerly pull the denim down his thighs, revealing tight briefs that outline his cock so perfectly.

And you can tell even without looking right at it that he's big.

He's almost surprised at the way you tug on his waistband, yanking the black fabric down as far as you can without completely stripping him. Hovering just above his knees, the fabric pulls at the simple mass of the muscle it wraps around.

The sight of his cock is godly.

Perfectly straight, pink at the tip with a slit leaking pre that just begs to be touched by your tongue. Thick and so heavy that it weighs down, refusing to touch the fabric covering his lower torso.

"What are you waiting for, slut?"

The moment he spots your tongue sliding out along your bottom lip - the softest hint of parted lips - he's pushing his cock into your mouth and down your throat.

The back of your head bumps the wall as spit drips from your pretty, plump lips - pooled on the back of your tongue just from the earlier sight of his cock waiting to be smothered by your walls; Your throat. You huff out and a soft whine of pain rings from your vocal cords, but he can't truly be bothered too much to care.

The feeling of his cock weighing heavy on your tongue is enough to drown out any pain you'd felt from the simple bump and grind of his hips pressing your head into the wall behind you. He rolls forward, slow, the tip of his pretty length rubbing against the back of your throat in an effort to make you gag. And when you do, he chuckles - the sound still distorted and crackling with use.

And though he'd just filled your throat without care for the ache that the stretch created against your cheeks - He did care about your safety, and was kind enough to slide a gloved hand down the back of your skull. It's resting there, gentle at first; Before he's fisting locks of your hair between his fingers and using it as leverage to thrust his hips right up against your face. Over, and over. And over. Until you're choking on his cock and spit is dripping down your chin in a foamy froth that, to him, proves just how much you're willing to give

He may be playing nice for just a moment, but it doesn't last too long as he pulls you in closer to him and buries your nose against the dark, coarse, curly hair bunched at the base of his length.

He grins behind the mask, chuckling again when he finally lets go of you and allows you to remove yourself from his cock. Your gasps fill his chest with -- pride? The feeling swells, feeling as though it might burst from the way you sit back against the wall and look up at him with glossy eyes that silently beg for more.

"Come here, pretty girl."

Reaching down, large hands grasp at your sides to pull you to your feet. Your knees ache, bruised from the ground you'd been pushed and pulled against as his cock violated your throat for what felt like at least twenty minutes - even if it had really only been just over five.

"Right there. That's right." He maneuvers you with ease, turning your body away from him so you can bend yourself over the side of the mattress in the middle of the room. The scent of the sheets is wildly familiar - a sudden memory of your friend Chris entering your head. He'd worn a cologne just like this at a party the previous weekend. And as you peek open your eyes, you realize you've seen these sheets before.

Of course it was his room you'd wandered into so blindly.

The memory of your dear friend escapes almost as soon as it comes, washed from your mind as the man behind you - above you - around you - leans down close enough so his chest can press against the swell of your back. His hands snake around the warmth of your sides, feeling over the pink of your dress as he hums in a low tone behind the mask. The sound is muffled - muted, to you - but it's made so painfully obvious by the way his chest vibrates with every low sound that escapes him.

His hands press further, running over the expanse of your ribcage before gripping at your body to pull you back. It's a quick jerking motion, one that makes you tumble back into him and fall to your elbows on the sheets you had spent nights in before. A sound escapes, a gasp of shock and relief as his bare cock slides against your panties from behind.

The man seems fond of your body, as if appreciating it while his hands run over your form. They leave your abdomen to lull higher, cupping the swell of your breasts and giving a subtle squeeze that leaves you wanting more - just as he pulls them away. He removes himself from above you, the lack of warmth making you lift your head and whimper in soft complaint.

You find yourself staring into a mirror - directly across from where he had laid you on the bed. Perched on your elbows, back arched, ass up for him. You can see clear as day the way his hand slides over your rear and down your thigh, reaching to hook a finger in your panties and pull back on them until he can let go and let the lace snap against your dripping slit.

The sound that leaves your lips is to die for.

His finger hooks back in the lace and pulls, this time to the side so he can move his hips in and press the tip of his cock to your pretty little hole. Waiting for him, dripping slick that leaks down your thighs and clenching around nothing as your body aches for him. Yearns for him.

You don't even know who he is and yet you're so desperate.

"Fuck -- Yes," You breathe heavy, your body gently lulling forward in a sway as he presses into your gummy walls with ease. It's a tight fit for him - he can't deny that - and it really is something he'd never forget. His body aches for more; Craves for more. So he snaps his hips forward almost immediately in a way that causes you to cry out louder than before.

He huffs, chest rising and falling in quick motions underneath the costume he wore. He couldn't help the way he breathed so heavy, especially with the mask on and wanting to keep it for a while longer so you would remain guessing and wanting to know who he is.

His hips snap in quick succession. His hands, rid of the gloves after he'd thrown them aside in anger that he couldn't properly feel the curves of your body with them on, grip tight at your his. His fingertips dig in and he uses his hold to pull you back onto his cock as he rocks forward, every motion so quick that even watching in the mirror is one big blur for you.

The way he snaps his cock into your walls, tip pressing to your cervix and kissing at it every other push; The way his body begins to drop down closer to yours the more he ruts into you in desperation for release.

He's nearly flush to your back now; Moaning and huffing and panting out in want for more, even if he's rutting his hips against your own as fast as he possibly can, the poor bed frame squeaking beneath the force he places down upon you.

But he refuses to give in so easily. That - or he gives up.

Sitting up and lifting a hand to the mask, his fingers curl in the black fabric and pull hard, ripping it from his head and shoulders. The reveal renders you speechless - the soft moans previously leaving your lips now silent as you stare up at him in admiration.

Hwang Hyunjin ; A quieter, kinder boy you'd only known from a Biology class the two of you shared. He sat kitty-corner to you at a table next to Chris, bumping their knees together to annoy the senior and giggling when Changbin - another senior of his - threw paper balls at the back of his head during class.

He always seemed so... booksmart. Nerdy. Dorky.

The reveal of his perfectly structured face glistening with a thin sheen of sweat really proved the fact that he is a loser in a hot body.

But you'd be straight lying to yourself if you said you didn't fucking love the way sweat began to bead and drip down the sides of his face, pooling and falling from his chin in a way that proved his effort.

"Oh my -- God," You choke on your words, staring up at your classmate through the mirror painting the wall across from you.

Plump lips curl into a knowing smirk. You hadn't suspected it to be him - Had you? You'd never seen the confident, sexually charged side of him that came out when he was outside of class - partying or dancing or rapping with his friends at karaoke. The cocky bastard that wanted the girl no one could get. (Oh, wait. That's you.)

"No need to keep staring, baby," He chuckles, his voice finally cleared of the distortion and truly his own. Low, raspy. As if he'd just woken up. "I'll find a way to make this moment last forever."

While your lips part in questioning and a soft sound leaves your throat to give him a shy reply, his fingers curl into your hair from behind. The locks, thick and heavy with sweat from the events of the night, tangle between thick knuckles that grip so tight you're sure he's never going to let go. Hyunjin tugs - no, pulls - back on your head to let your back arch in a way that made you nearly scream in pleasure as he continued pounding his hips into your own.

"C'mon. Come here, baby."

Pulling just a little more taught, Hyunjin lets himself slump forward. HIs chest presses just barely to your shoulders as he leans down, free hand slinging around to your front holding a small black camera that looks as if it'd come straight out of 2009.

As the camera clicks to life and the red light blinks in warning that the flash is coming your way, Hyunjin snakes his hand down from your hair to wrap around your throat instead. Your face, flushed and painted red with want and admiration, is in clear view of the small screen on the opposite side of the camera. "That's it..."

Hyunjin coos, biting into his lower lip as his thumb presses a bit harder down on the shutter button.

The red light blinks again and the flash springs to life, blinding you momentarily as if your sex-ridden haze wasn't enough.

"Smile for me, baby."

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