#Raked Gravel Press

[readerviews]

"Tokyo Tempos" by Michael Pronko

Unique Perspective on Living in Tokyo #books #bookreview #reading #readerviews

Tokyo Tempos Michael PronkoRaked Gravel Press (2024)ISBN Number: 978-1942410348Reviewed by Richard Bist for Reader Views (11/2024) As the fourth installment in Michael Pronko’s Tokyo Moments Series, “Tokyo Tempos” offers a unique perspective on living in this incredible city. Panko, a Kansas-born writer who has lived in Japan for over twenty years, provides the reader with his experiences…

[noorpersona]

Favourite Positions: Ushijima

Ushijima Wakatoshi had never paid much attention to positions before.

He had always focused on precision, control, endurance. He knew his own strength, the way his body worked, the way he could move with purpose. Most of the time, he stuck to the same tried-and-true motions, favoring what was familiar and effective. But tonight, you had looked at him with those eyes, voice soft and teasing as you asked, "Wakatoshi, can we try something different?"

He hadn’t expected much of a difference. A position was a position, right? But when he had you pressed against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted you effortlessly—

Everything changed.

The first deep thrust had your breath hitching. The second had you whimpering, nails clawing at his shoulders. And by the third—

You were gone.

Your body tensed up so fast, so hard, that Ushijima nearly stopped, his brow furrowing as he felt you clench down tight around him, your head dropping back against the wall, mouth open in a silent moan.

His grip on your thighs tightened instinctively, muscles flexing as he kept you lifted, held, pinned completely at his mercy.

And then he felt it.

The sharp, desperate way you squeezed him. The way your entire body shuddered, overwhelmed and trembling.

Ushijima’s breath caught.

“Already?” His deep voice was laced with something close to wonder.

You gasped, hands gripping his broad shoulders, nails pressing into his skin. Your thighs quivered around his waist, your body limp from the force of your release. Overstimulated, wrecked—completely unraveled.

A slow, deliberate breath left him as realization settled in.

This position had made you lose control.

His jaw clenched, something dark flickering behind his usually calm expression. He wanted to see it again.

His grip on your thighs adjusted, his large hands spreading your legs wider, securing you against the wall like you weighed nothing. And before you could even recover, before the aftershocks of your first orgasm had fully settled, he started moving again.

Deep. Steady. Unforgiving.

His pace was measured, controlled, devastating. Each thrust pressed you tighter against the cold surface, the contrast of his warmth and the chill of the wall making your senses blur. Your body twitched in response, oversensitive and already on the edge again.

Your breath hitched, your back arching against the wall, and Ushijima watched.

His sharp eyes took in everything—the way your lips parted, the way your hands clawed at his skin, the way you gasped his name between every movement. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your thighs as he picked up the pace just slightly, enough to make you shudder.

“You like this.” His voice was calm, deep, but something about it felt different now. Like he was coming to terms with something new. Something he didn’t know about himself before.

Something dangerous.

The way your body reacted to him, the way you broke apart so quickly in his arms— he liked it.

A lot.

His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his voice dropping even lower. “I like it too.”

Your head tipped forward, forehead pressing against his shoulder as your nails raked down his back, the pressure inside you tightening so fast it was unbearable.

You whimpered, the sensation of being lifted, stretched, completely at his mercy making your head spin. Ushijima could feel it. The way you clenched down around him again, the way your thighs trembled in his grip.

He exhaled sharply, holding you even tighter.

“Cum,” he ordered, voice like gravel and heat.

Your entire body obeyed.

Pleasure slammed through you like a tidal wave, your moan caught somewhere between a cry and a gasp as you shattered all over again, trembling in his grasp, body locking up completely. The force of it left you whimpering, completely spent, completely undone.

Ushijima groaned at the feeling of you convulsing around him, his pace unwavering as he rode you through it, relishing in how easily he could pull you apart.

When you finally collapsed, head lolling back against the wall, Ushijima didn’t move.

He kept you pinned against him, breathing deeply, grounding himself in the sensation of you still trembling in his arms.

His lips ghosted over your jaw, warm and firm as he pressed a kiss to your temple—but he wasn’t finished.

With a sharp inhale, he pulled back slightly, shifting his grip on your thighs before his hips snapped forward, hard. A strangled cry tore from your throat, your fingers clawing at his back as the sudden force sent pleasure crashing through your system all over again.

“Too much?” His deep voice rumbled against your skin, deceptively calm despite the way his movements turned unrelenting.

You barely managed a response—your mind too fogged, your body too overwhelmed as he pounded into you, each thrust deeper, harder, perfectly precise.

The intensity coiled tight inside you, every nerve on fire as you felt it creeping up again—fast, uncontrollable.

His grip on you tightened as he felt it too. The way your walls fluttered, how your legs trembled around him. He knew.

“You’re going to cum again.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement—a promise.

And he made sure of it.

Another deep thrust, another perfectly timed roll of his hips, and your vision whited out. The pleasure hit like lightning, your entire body jerking, shaking, completely wrecked as you gushed around him, soaking his thighs, the sound obscene in the air.

Ushijima groaned, his jaw clenching as the feeling dragged him over the edge with you. His hips stuttered, his pace faltering as he drove in one last time, spilling deep inside you with a low, guttural moan, his fingers bruising into your skin as he held you against the wall, his.

For a moment, neither of you moved—just the sound of ragged breaths and the faint, aftershocking trembles of your body in his grip.

Then, slowly, his lips brushed your jaw once more, voice deep, steady, satisfied.

“We'll have to do that again.”

[rizzanon]

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m.list | prev | next

The door slammed open so hard it reverberated through the sterile hospital room. Bruce didn’t flinch. He barely blinked. He just sat there, slumped in the hard plastic chair, his hand resting on yours—cold and lifeless beneath his touch.

“What the fuck am I looking at?”

Bruce didn’t answer, didn’t lift his head.

“Bruce.”

Nothing.

The last fraying thread snapped. The figure crossed the room in a hearbeat, and the next thing Bruce registered was a fist colliding with his jaw.

Crack.

Bruce hit the ground with a heavy thud, his head snapping to the side as the impact split his lip and bruised the skin around his cheekbone. He didn’t move to defend himself, didn’t even try to stand. He just lay there on the cold tile, blood pooling in his mouth, the metallic tang sharp on his tongue.

He deserved this.

“Get up,” Jason spat, towering over him. His chest rose and fell like a man drowning in rage. “Get the fuck up!”

Bruce pushed himself into a seated position, back against the chair he’d fallen from. Slowly, he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Jason…”

“What the hell happened? Tell me, Bruce. Tell me why—“ Jason’s voice shook as he gestured wildly toward your body. You, lying there on the hospital bed, covered with a sheet up to your chest. Still. Too still.

“Tell me why the hell am I looking at her like this?!”

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, his own voice hoarse, like gravel scraping against stone. “She went after a drug ring. Alone.”

Jason froze. A muscle ticked in his jaw, his eyes blazing. “What?”

Bruce hands dropped into his lap, empty and useless. “She tracked them down herself. She found out where they were moving shipments. I don’t know when she left—by the time I realized, it was already too late. She—“

“And you let her??!” Jason’s shout rang through the small room, loud enough that the walls almost shook. He pointed at Bruce, his hand trembling. “You let her go after them?! Alone?!”

“She didn’t tell me.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Jason’s voice cracked, raw and vicious. He let out a bitter, humourless laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me, Bruce? You’re BATMAN. You’re supposed to KNOW when this kind of shit is about to go down!”

Bruce finally lifted his gaze to Jason, his face haggard, the bruising around his jaw already deepening. “She didn’t tell me, Jason,” he repeated quietly, like the words were an admission of failure. “She went on her own.”

Jason’s fists clenched at his sides, knucles white. “You should’ve known she’d do this! You should’ve stopped her! You’re supposed to keep her safe—that was your job!”

Jason’s voice cracked again on the last word, and Bruce couldn’t meet his eyes.

“She made her choice.”

“Bullshit!” Jason snarled, stepping forward like he might hit him again.

He should, he thinks.

“She shouldn’t have had to make that choice. She wouldn’t have done it if she thought she didn’t have to. She—“ Jason’s voice faltered for the first time, his fury cracking around the edges, breaking apart into something more brittle. He turned his head sharply toward your still form, his chest heaving.

Jason’s voice dropped, quiet and shaking. “She’s dead.”

The words hung in the air, terrible and final.

You were dead.

His sister was dead.

Jason let out a shaky breath, raking a hand through his hair. He turned toward the wall, his vision blurring, the tight knot in his chest turning into something he couldn’t contain. Before he knew it, his fist collided with the drywall, the sound loud and violent as it split under the force.

“Goddamnit!” Jason’s voice broke, raw and thick, the cracks in the wall mirroring the fractures in his heart. His chest heaved, his legs suddenly feeling too weak to hold him. He stumbled back a step, then two, before his knees hit the ground.

Bruce didn’t move.

Jason leaned back against the cracked wall, his forehead dropping against his knees as he struggled to breathe through the sickening weight pressing down on him. His voice was barely audible now, a broken rasp.

“She’s dead,” he whispered again, like saying it out loud would make it easier to believe. “Damnit, Bruce, she’s gone. She’s gone.”

He was furious at Bruce. For allowing this to happen. First him, then Alfred, and now… you.

He was furious at himself. If he’d just been there…. If he hadn’t stayed away like a selfish coward, like he thought pushing you away would protect you, like he thought pushing you away would make you drop the mantle, maybe—maybe—this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe you wouldn’t be lying there, cold and lifeless.

“Goddamnit,” Jason choked out, his fingers gripping his hair as he tried to keep himself from shattering completely. “I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve been there.”

Bruce, still on the floor across from him, watched Jason quietly. His voice, when it came, was low and rough. “I promised myself I wouldn’t fail her.”

Jason’s head snapped up, his eyes red-rimmed, furious. “You did. You failed her.”

He bowed his head down, and gritted his teeth. “….And I did too.”

With that, Jason fell silent. He stayed there, crumpled on the floor, staring at your lifeless form as the weight of it all—your death, Bruce’s failure, his own failure, his regrets—settled over him like a suffocating shroud.

And for the first time in a long time, Jason didn’t know how to pick himself back up.

The night was deceptively calm, a quiet blanket over Gotham that felt almost serene. But Dick’s heart was anything but that. It hammered in his chest like a war drum, each beat fueling the storm that raged inside him. In the shadowed alleys and dimly lit streets, he moved like a storm, tearing through the remnants of the drug ring that belied the peaceful night.

Every punch, every kick was driven by something deeper—something raw and consuming. His movements were precise, brutal, and unrelenting, each strike a wordless scream of anguish. This wasn’t just justice. It wasn’t even revenge.

This was the drug ring you had been chasing. The one responsible for your death.

And Dick wasn’t stopping until they felt the full weight of what they had taken from him.

One of the thugs came at him with a crowbar, swinging wildly. Dick ducked low, his movements precise, and drove his elbow into the man's ribs. The thug stumbled, wheezing, but before he could recover, Dick caught him with a roundhouse kick to the temple. He went down hard, blood streaking his face.

Another rushed him from behind, but Dick anticipated it, pivoting sharply and catching the man's wrist mid-swing. He wrenched it back with brutal efficiency, the crack of bone echoing in the alley. The man screamed, but Dick silenced him with a punch to the throat, sending him crumpling to the ground.

A third lunged at him with a knife, slashing at his chest. Dick sidestepped, grabbed the thug by the wrist, and twisted hard enough to disarm him. The blade clattered to the ground as Dick's fist connected with his jaw, snapping the thug's head back. He didn't let up, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him into the nearest wall.

“Where are the rest of you?” Dick snarled, his voice venomous. The man whimpered, struggling against his grip, but before he could answer, another figure charged at Dick.

This one didn't even make it close. Dick spun, releasing the man he'd been holding and delivering a brutal flying knee to the newcomer's chest. The thug crumpled on impact, choking and gasping for air. The alley was littered with bodies-groaning, bloodied, broken.

But it wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

Dick's eyes locked on the last thug, the one who'd been cowering in the shadows, trying to make a quiet escape. His boots crunched on the asphalt as he closed the distance, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. The man froze, wide-eyed, as Dick grabbed him by the front of his jacket and slammed him against the wall.

“Where's the rest of your crew?” Dick growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“I-I don't—“

The man's excuse was cut off as Dick slammed him against the wall again, harder this time.

“Don't lie to me,” Dick hissed, his grip tightening. His knuckles were already sore and bloodied, but he barely noticed.

“Where are they?”

The thug whimpered, trembling under Dick's glare. “Warehouse... on 14th... Please, man, I'm just—”

“Shut up.” Dick's voice was ice, his eyes dark with fury. He raised his fist, ready to deliver another blow, but a voice crackled in his ear, sharp and commanding.

“Nightwing!”

Dick froze, his fist hovering in the air.

“Dick, that's enough!” Barbara's voice was firm, but there was a crack in it—a tremor that cut through the haze of rage clouding his mind. “They're down. He's down. You've got what you need.”

For a moment, Dick didn't move, his chest heaving, his fist still trembling in the air. Then, slowly, he let the man drop. The thug collapsed to the ground, coughing and clutching his chest, too terrified to move. Dick turned away, his hands shaking as he secured the thugs with cuffs. He didn't bother calling it in to the GCPD. He just fired his grappling hook and ascended to the nearest rooftop, the wind whipping at his face as the adrenaline began to fade.

And then the guilt hit.

The rooftop was silent save for the distant hum of Gotham below. Dick leaned heavily against the ledge, staring down at the city that had taken so much from him. He pressed two fingers to his comm.

“Oracle,” he rasped, his voice raw. “You there?”

“I'm here.”

There was a beat of silence before Dick spoke again, his voice trembling. “I should've been there, Babs. I should've been there for her.”

Barbara's breath hitched over the comm. “Dick—”

“I was supposed to protect her.” The words came out sharp, biting, the anguish behind them bleeding through. “I'm her big brother, Barbara. I'm supposed to protect my family. Protect her.” His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms hard enough to break skin. “But I wasn't there. I wasn't there, and now, she's...” His voice cracked, the rest of the sentence dying in his throat.

Barbara's voice was soft but steady. “You couldn't have known, Dick. You were-”

“Don't,” he snapped, his anger flaring again. “Don't tell me I couldn't have known. I should have known. I should've been paying attention. I was in Bludhaven, dealing with lowlifes while she was...” He trailed off, his chest heaving as he struggled to find the words.

“She was dying, Babs,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I wasn't there. (Name) is dead.”

Barbara was silent for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was laced with pain. “You're not the only one who feels this, Dick. Don't act like you're the only one who lost her.”

Dick let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You don't get it—”

“Don't I?” Barbara's voice cracked, sharp and raw.

Dick froze, his breath catching.

“She died as Batgirl,” Barbara said, her tone trembling with emotion. “She died wearing my mantle. Do you think I don't blame myself for that? Do you think I don't feel like it's my fault she's gone?”

Dick turned, guilt twisting in his gut as he heard the crack in her voice.

“She was under my guidance,” Barbara continued, her voice rising. “She was wearing my symbol. That's on me, Dick. Just like how you thought Jason’s death was on you.”

Dick flinched at the name, his chest tightening painfully. That was a low blow. A low moment in his life in which he didn’t want to go through again. But here he was—

“So don't you dare think for a second that I don't understand,” Barbara said, her voice breaking now. “Because I do. I know exactly how this feels for you. Every second of each day, I feel it. And it’s killing me inside.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Finally, Dick spoke, his voice barely audible. “I can't lose another one of us, Babs. I can't. Jason came back, but she...” His voice cracked again. “(Name)’s not coming back.”

Barbara's voice softened, though her pain was still evident. “I know.”

Dick closed his eyes, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a physical force. “This is my fault, Babs” he admitted, his voice trembling.

“Not just yours… mine as well,” Barbara replied, her voice thick with emotion.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, the silence between them heavy with shared grief.

there was too much fluff (mlb asks + uf trio asks) posted tdy, i needed to balance it out 🥰🫶 i love it when dick goes feral in the comics lol (its hot)

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[aliteralsemicolon]

Bad, bad news - 18+

Main masterlist | Part 2

"Bad, bad news, one of us is gonna lose, I'm the powder you're the fuse...just add some friction." You and Spencer play to see who can control themselves the longest. Loser is at the winner's mercy for the rest of the night.

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Minors do not interact at all. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING: Smut: Switch!/dom! Spencer, switch!/sub! reader, cock-warming, nipple play, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, clit stimulation, one singular spank, no use of protection, pet names (sweet girl, good girl, etc). Not proofread. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 2.9K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Rolling around half naked in your bed sheets is like a harmonious duet on most days. You and Spencer mindlessly slip into your roles using non-verbal cues. Today was not one of those days. Today was a messy battle for dominance and your sheets bore the brunt. 

“Give in,” Spencer whispers, his knee strategically pressed against your heat. “You know you want to.”

You wiggle your wrists out of his grasp above your head and flatten your palms against his chest as you push him back down. He doesn't react fast enough and you’re straddling him again. You claim his mouth in a roaring kiss and swallow a desperate moan.

“Baby, if anyone’s going to give in it’s you.” You taunt, pulling away.

Without warning, Spencer bucks his hips up, rubbing his hardness against your core. It makes you jolt. 

“Yeah?” He licks his lips and flashes you a cocky smile.

“Y-yes.” You’re quick to regain composure, not wanting to let him rob you of the upper hand. “You can barely control yourself.”

He harshly cups your jaw in retaliation and pushes himself up until his lips are almost brushing yours. You have to brace yourself against his shoulder and his eyes lock in on yours. He lingers there for a second, his breath tickles your skin. Your eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips. His hold on your jaw loosens as the two of you slowly lean in. 

“I’m not the one that needs to be controlled.” It’s a low gravel that vibrates against your mouth as he retracts his head, making you chase after the kiss. 

Before you can catch his lips, he rolls you over and pushes himself on his knees. The noise that leaves you upon impact is something between a squeak and a grunt. He doesn’t give you time to assimilate, flipping you over and yanking you by your hips. Your cunt slams against his bulge and you groan, gripping the sheets. He grabs your hands, pinning them behind your back. You try to squirm out of his grip, but he’s got you pinned firmly. 

“Hey, that is not fair!” You whine. 

“Oh? Why not?” 

“You’re biologically stronger than I am!”

“Aw, poor baby.” He pouts with a mocking coo. 

You huff and make another futile attempt to set yourself free.

“Just give in and I’ll let go.” He chuckles. 

“Fuck off–ah!” A firm smack on your behind cuts you off. 

If that wasn’t so hot you could have at least pretended to be upset, but the way you involuntarily grind your hips gives you away before you can even make the effort. Spencer hisses in response. His eyes rake down your back to your ass pressed against him. So that backfired. 

You’re just as stubborn as he is and he doesn’t have the patience to wear you down. He needs to watch you squirm as you beg for him. He wants to feel how desperate you are for him. Using a featherlight touch, his hand travels up your back. He leans in, torso hovering over your back and brings his lips to your ear. 

“How about I make you a deal, hmm?” A trail of kisses starts from below your ear to your jaw.

“A deal?” You repeat, falling into a slight daze.

His fingers stop skimming over your back when he reaches the clasp of your bra and he undoes it in one swift motion. You can feel your heartbeat as your breasts spring free. 

“Mhm.” He releases his hold on you and moves off you to sit up against the headboard. 

“What deal?” You question as you sit up, eyeing him curiously.

“Well, it’s more of a bet.” 

Part of the reason you and Spencer work so well is because of your ability to keep up with each other's competitive nature. 

“Go on.” You rid yourself of the bra hanging on your shoulders. 

He tries to hide it, but, being met with your bare chest has an immediate effect on him. The silent but sharp inhale, the way he tries oh so hard to keep his eyes on your face and the way his lip rolls between his teeth. You can practically feel your arousal pooling in your underwear. 

“Come here.” He beckons you closer with his fingers.

A shrewd smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth. You position yourself on your hands and knees, effectively crawling toward him. It shouldn’t feel as alluring as it does, but the sight makes his cock twitch. Part of him wants to grab you and pull you onto his lap the second you’re within reach, but he waits for you to get there on your own, watching you intently with every step. 

His palms caress the sides of your ribcage as you straddle him and he swipes his tongue between his lips. You drape your arms on his shoulders, wrapping them so your fingers run through his hair. You let him kiss you on the chin, jaw and shoulder, but when he tries to go lower, you pull on his hair by the base. He turns his head back up to you and you both rest your foreheads together.

“You are impossibly stubborn.” He groans. 

“I wouldn’t have to be if you would simply do as I say.” 

“I should tie you up and make you watch as I take care of myself in front of you.” There’s an underlying playfulness in his sigh. 

“That sounds like a punishment.” You quirk your eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t have to if you had let me take care of you as I’ve wanted from the start.” 

“You won’t. At all.” You state point blank, indicating he's not the one in charge.

Spencer tsks and brushes his thumb against your nipple. You playfully slap his hand away. You don’t know it yet, but he’s already noting everything he’ll punish you for when the time comes. 

“Do you trust me?” 

You nod, giving him a cautious stare. 

“Do. you. trust. me?” He repeats, unsatisfied with the non-verbal confirmation. 

“Yes!” You huff. 

“Up.” He drops his hands to your hips, gripping the flesh and pushing it away from him. 

You lift yourself off him and on your knees. Spencer then lifts his hips, tugging his boxers down providing ample room for his length to bounce out. Looking down you can see just how hard he is. His tip’s swollen, pink and leaking with pre-cum. If you weren’t so turned on right now, you’d question what he’s up to. 

There is no shortage of things you want to do to him and he can tell as much when he runs a finger through your slit, pushing the fabric to the side. The action is unexpected and you have to use his shoulders for support, a whimper escaping your lips. You glare at him but he pays you no mind.

“Fuucck,” He breathily groans, “you are soaked.” 

It always takes you a little off guard when Spencer swears. He rarely does, saving it for when he feels very passionately about something. It makes you clench around nothing. Spencer guides your hips a little lower and runs his tip between your folds. You can only chuff in desperation as you try to keep yourself composed. 

“Sit.” He commands, lining himself up with your entrance. 

You’re sceptical but comply nonetheless. You slowly sink on his length and his fingers dig into the plush of your hips. The two of you exchange a gasp as you attempt to ground yourselves. Something about how he stretches your walls open is so delicious and palatable, that it makes you forget all sense or reason.

“Now what?” 

“Now,” his voice floats in and out of short breaths, “you sit still.” 

“I beg you pardon? Still?” Your perplexity makes him chuckle.

Shock waves travel between your cores and you squirm. 

“Uh-uh.” His grip on your body tightens as he holds you in place. “You heard me. Sit still.” 

You mull over his words and it clicks.

“Cockwarming?” 

“Precisely.” 

“That’s your deal?”

“Bet.” He corrects. 

A silent pause takes over the conversation. You try to study his challenging stare, but honestly, all you can focus on is how enchanting his eyes are. How ethereal they look when you have him begging for you. You’re smart enough to recognise that the only shot you have of making that happen is if you indulge him for now. 

“Okay, genius, I’ll bite. What are we betting on?” 

“Control. More specifically, which one of us is better at exhibiting control.”

“So not you.” You snort. 

He rolls his eyes but he’s unsure if it’s because of your comment or how warm you feel around his cock. He doesn’t point out that he’s already demonstrating a great amount of control by not flipping you over and fucking the shit out of you, because it might not work in his favour.

“What happens when I win?” 

Your follow-up question brings him back to you with brows raised in astonishment. 

“When you win?” 

“Or when you lose. Whatever way you wanna look at it.” 

His eyes narrow and his tongue swipes the inside of his cheek. Maybe if he brought up how good he is at holding his tongue, he could make a point about how much more control he’s in. 

“Whoever wins gets to do whatever they want to the other. For tonight.” 

You twist your lips to the side in contemplation. Spencer tracks every shift in your features. 

“Deal.” You answer with a genuine smile. 

“Thank you.” His gratitude is relayed in a husky whisper.

You don’t know if it’s the way he speaks or the words he says, but it makes you clench. You don’t realise until he hisses and throws his head back. 

“You can’t be doing that.” His thumbs caress the skin they’re resting on. 

“What? This?” You repeat the action intentionally and give him your most convincing doe eyes. 

Oh the things he plans to do to you. His thoughts hide behind a half-smirk and his eyes drop to your breasts. The look on his face borders between unsettling and erotic, sending shivers down your spine. Spencer lets his hand drift up your sides, stopping so his thumbs brush your nipples again. The feeling provokes goosebumps all over. 

You unintentionally whimper when he gently rolls them between his thumbs and forefingers. At first, Spencer was only trying to tease you for your antics, but the sound of your voice made him want to coax more out of you. He adds pressure to his hold and tugs. Your walls tighten around him again and he lessens the pressure to keep himself composed. If you don’t stop, he will. Your hands move to cup his wrists in place and you try to hold back the pathetic sounds threatening to spill out of you. 

“Can’t have your cake and eat it too, sweet girl. Tell me what you want.” His voice is a coo masking a command. 

“For you to stop playing games and give up already.” You try to keep your voice steady but fail. 

“You’re just delaying the inevitable at this point. The longer you fight, the harder you’ll have to beg.” He relays it like a scientific fact that can’t be proven wrong. 

“And you’re delusional if you think that’s happening. I won’t beg for you.” 

“That’s two bets you’re losing tonight.” 

You scoff but before you can get another word in, he pulls your taut nubs with a tighter grip than before. You have to fight the urge to lean away and roll your hips. Your breathing quickens, it’s almost as if you're quietly heaving. Then you make the mistake of looking down. Slender fingers toying with your hardened peaks and cock so deep inside you that your cores are touching at the base. 

Your senses feel heightened. Everything you sense is jumbled. You can practically taste the sweet ecstasy that fills your body when he’s driving into you so hard that he’s pressing against your stomach. You don’t realise how close you are to the edge, but Spencer does. He can tell by the slight shake in your legs as you try to keep yourself still. And the way your nails dig into his wrists. 

All your focus is on keeping yourself from clenching because you don’t want him to stop. The coil in your stomach has almost completely unravelled; you just need to sit still for a few more seconds. 

Seven. In your distracted state you let a few tiny moans slip out. 

Six. It elates Spencer, he almost feels bad for what he’s about to do. 

Five. As you grow louder, Spencer begins shushing you in his soft voice. 

Four. You shut your eyes, anticipating your release.

Three. Almost there, your lip rolls between your teeth. 

Two–

Your efforts are wasted because Spencer lets go right as you’re on the brink. 

“NofuckWHY?!” You speak so fast that you join your sentence into one word. 

A brash chuckle erupts from him. He releases his wrists from your grip.

“Come on, you didn’t actually think I was going to let you cum.” 

You let out a frustrated huff. 

“Only good girls get to come. Are you a good girl?” He adds, intertwining his hands with yours. 

It seems like an intimate act, but you can see past it. As always, the sneaky bastard has found himself a loophole. The truth is, Spencer doesn’t have more patience, he’s just too good at achieving results. He’s basically admitted defeat and you’ll still be the one to lose. You can only give him a narrowed stare, scouring his eyes with your jaw hanging.

“No?” He prompts when your silence is too long. 

This time, he only gives attention to one of your nubs and his other hand lands on your clit without warning. He doesn’t ease you into his brutal pace, flicking over your bud with his middle finger. The strain against your sensitive nipple, the stimulation on your inflamed bud and his erection still buried inside you. It’s an overwhelming sensation and you’re unsure of what to focus on. The result is a loud, strangled moan you try to muffle in the crook of his neck.

“Fuck! Spencer!” 

It doesn’t take long for the tension in your abdomen to start building again. You try to focus on your breathing and relieve the intensity by pressing your nails into his shoulders. Spencer remains undeterred and you can’t escape the feeling. It’s building fast and it’s going to run through you like a tidal wave. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck– oh God– oh fuck–” 

Your stringed obscenities are matched by Spencer's more silent hums and groans. He’s enjoying this, probably more than you are. His begins to twitch inside you at random intervals, he could cum just from this. 

“You’re close. Maybe I should stop. Hmm?” He mumbles his words as close to your ear as he can. 

“Pleaseplease–fucking–please– don’t stop. Don’t stop!” 

“Admit that you’re my good girl.”

“Spenc– mmh–” 

It’s too much but not enough at the same time. The tension inside is brewing too thick, you’re about to snap. 

“You’re not cumming until you say it,” Spencer warns sternly, “say you’re my good girl.” 

The sound of his voice only adds to your desperation. All you give him in return is your lewd mewls. He’s brought you back to the edge, you only need one final push. 

“Still nothing? You must not want it bad enough.” He starts to slow down his pace, indicating that he’s about to stop. 

The threat alone makes you break. 

“No!” You yelp. “Nonono– I’m a good girl– I’m your good girl! Please don’t stop!”

You’re panting frantically. He’s won.

“Yeah? You think so?” 

Yet he’s still going to make you work for it. He quickens his pace again and you don’t even try to keep yourself still anymore, squirming in his lap. 

“Mhm..” It’s a broken beg, your face still hiding in his neck. 

“Look at me.” He hisses gently, struggling against the friction you’ve started to build. 

You lazily lift your head to meet his eyes. He has a victorious smirk on his face. Your eyes struggle to stay open and you flutter your lids.  

“Oh, you look so pretty. All flushed and desperate.” He teases. “Tell me, what are you?”

You need release, now. Your legs try to close around his body. 

“I– ah– shit– I’m–fuck your g–good girl!” Your words exit as more of a moan than a coherent sentence. The coil in your stomach is about to burst any second. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t hear you.” He’s relishing in your struggle. 

You let out a frustrated whine. 

“I’m your good girl!” 

Spencer chuckles at just how agreeable you’ve become because of how badly you want to cum. Your brows furrow and you throw your head back, eyes squeezing shut. Just as you’re about to get your sweet release, Spencer stops. You snap your sights on him, utterly dazed, annoyed and confused. Spencer leans in, getting close enough for his whisper to reach you.

“Prove it.” 

Spoilers: Smut.

AN - When I said edging, I meant it. We’re all getting edged. Anyway first kinktober piece, I can’t promise I’ll deliver all of them in October. I’m just a girl (uni takes priority sorry guys). Also, this is kinda overdue now but thank you for 1K <3

TT has ruined so many things for me. I couldn’t write this without thinking of “asserting dominance” and giggling.

Thank you for reading!

[littlelamy]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮

the night was heavy with anticipation, the kind that pressed against your chest and made your heart race. the dim glow of the bedside lamp bathed rafe’s room in a golden hue, shadows stretching across the walls as you sat on his bed, your legs tucked beneath you. the air between you was thick, electrified, and his presence—tall, broad, and exuding a quiet intensity—felt like gravity pulling you in.

rafe stood at the edge of the bed, his sharp features softened by the vulnerability etched into his expression. his pupils were blown wide, swallowing the icy blue of his eyes, and his brows knitted together in a way that made your stomach twist with need. he looked like a man on the verge of breaking, his desire barely leashed.

“baby,” he rasped, his voice low and rough, like gravel and silk all at once. he raked a hand through his messy hair, his movements tense. “are you sure? i mean… really fucking sure? ‘cause if we do this—if i have you like this—there’s no turning back. you’ll be mine. all mine.”

you swallowed, your throat dry, and nodded. “i’m sure,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly but filled with conviction. “i want you, rafe. i need you.”

his jaw ticked at your words, and for a moment, he didn’t move, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of you. then, like a dam breaking, he surged forward, his knees hitting the mattress as his hands cupped your face. his touch was firm yet tender, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin like he was memorizing the feel of you.

“y/n,” he muttered before his lips crashed into yours. the kiss was searing, his mouth claiming yours with an urgency that sent heat pooling low in your belly. his hands slid down your sides, gripping you tightly as he pulled you closer, pressing you flush against him. your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and the low groan he let out made you shiver.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with awe. “you have no idea how much i want you. how long i’ve wanted this.”

“then take me,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible but filled with need. “please, rafe.”

that was all it took for his restraint to snap. his hands roamed your body, mapping every inch of you as he peeled your clothes away, leaving you bare and vulnerable under his intense gaze. he paused, his eyes raking over you like he was committing every curve, every dip, every freckle to memory.

“jesus christ,” he breathed, his voice shaky. “you’re perfect, baby. absolutely fucking perfect.”

your cheeks flushed under his praise, but before you could respond, he leaned down, his lips and hands trailing over your skin, igniting a fire wherever they touched. when his mouth moved lower, pressing kisses along your stomach and thighs, your breath hitched, your body arching toward him instinctively.

“spread for me, princess,” he murmured, his voice a husky command. “let me see you.”

heat flooded your face, but you obeyed, your thighs parting to reveal yourself to him. his sharp inhale was audible, and when his gaze locked onto your puffy folds, glistening with arousal, his expression darkened with primal hunger.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice strained. “you’re so wet for me. so fucking ready. goddamn, you’re gonna ruin me.”

his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive places. when his tongue flicked out, tasting you for the first time, a broken moan escaped your lips. he groaned against you, his voice low and guttural. “you taste like heaven, baby. so sweet. so fucking perfect.”

he didn’t rush, taking his time to explore every inch of you with his mouth, his tongue delving between your folds and teasing your clit until you were a trembling, gasping mess. your hands fisted the sheets, your hips bucking against his face as he worked you over, his groans of satisfaction sending vibrations straight through you.

“fuck, rafe,” you whimpered, your voice breathy and desperate. “i can’t—i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he growled, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “come for me, baby. i wanna taste every fucking drop.”

and you did. your release crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body shaking as he held you down, his mouth relentless as he wrung every last ounce of pleasure from you. when he finally pulled back, his lips glistened with your arousal, and the sight sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

“you’re a fucking dream, baby,” he said, his voice rough as he climbed back up to kiss you. you could taste yourself on his lips, the intimacy of it making your head spin. “but we’re not done yet. not even close.”

he shed the rest of his clothes quickly, and when he settled between your thighs, the weight of him pressed against you, you felt utterly consumed. his cock was thick and hard, and when he slid it through your folds, coating himself in your slickness, you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“you ready, baby?” he asked, his voice gentler now, his eyes searching yours. “i don’t wanna hurt you.”

“i’m ready,” you assured him, your voice trembling with anticipation. “please, rafe.”

with a groan, he pushed inside, inch by inch, stretching you in a way that was both overwhelming and intoxicating. he stilled once he was fully seated, his forehead dropping to yours as he took a shuddering breath.

“shit,” he muttered, his voice strained. “you’re so tight. so fucking perfect.”

you moaned, your hands clutching at his back as you adjusted to the fullness of him. when you nodded, giving him the go-ahead, he began to move, slow and deliberate at first, his thrusts deep and measured. but it didn’t take long for the intensity to build, his pace quickening as he lost himself in you.

“look at me,” he rasped, his voice rough. “i need to see you, baby. need to see how good you’re taking me.”

you locked eyes with him, your breath hitching at the raw hunger and emotion in his gaze. his brows were furrowed, his jaw tight, and his pupils were blown wide, his expression a mix of pleasure and desperation.

“you’re mine,” he growled, his voice thick with possession. “every fucking inch of you is mine.”

“i’m yours,” you gasped, your voice breaking as pleasure surged through you. “and you’re mine, rafe. always.”

the world around you dissolved as the two of you moved together, your bodies and souls completely in sync. it was messy, intense, and utterly perfect, every moan, every gasp, every whispered curse a testament to the depth of your connection.

when it was over, you lay tangled in his arms, your head resting on his chest as his fingers traced lazy circles on your back. he pressed a kiss to your hair, his voice soft and full of contentment as he murmured, “you’re mine, baby. forever.”

“and you’re mine, bubba,” you replied, your voice barely audible as sleep began to pull you under.

the night stretched on, the two of you wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten as your hearts beat in perfect unison.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd d @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah

[rafesbows]

u keep comin back to rafe (ヽ´ω`)

rafe leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking down at you with that lazy smirk that makes your stomach twist. "knew you’d come back," he murmurs, eyes raking over your teary face, the way you shift like you're embarrassed. "so predictable, baby."

you sniffle, tugging at the hem of your tiny skirt, lip trembling as you stare up at him. "didn’t mean it," you whisper. "missed you."

he exhales through his nose, shaking his head like you’re pathetic, but he still steps aside, letting you in. and the second the door shuts, he’s got you pinned against it, big hands spreading your thighs as he presses his hips into yours.

"missed me, huh?" he taunts, his voice all gravel as his fingers slip under your skirt. "bet you were layin’ in bed, all pouty ‘n lonely, thinking about how bad you fucked up."

you nod frantically, already breathless, already melting as he cups you over your panties, feeling how warm and soaked you are for him.

"poor baby," he coos, mock sympathy dripping from his tone. "needy little thing doesn’t know what to do without me, huh?"

you shake your head, whimpering, fingers clutching his shirt as he slides your panties aside, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit.

rafe chuckles, deep and low. "s’fine. lucky for you, i like you pathetic."

rafe’s got you face-down on the couch, back arched, your cheek pressed against the cushion as he presses his weight over you. his chest is hot against your back, his breath heavy by your ear as he grinds his cock between your folds, teasing, making you whimper.

“this what you wanted?” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “wanted me to fuck the attitude outta you?”

you nod frantically, fingers clawing at the cushions as he finally pushes in, stretching you open, making you gasp.

“fuck, baby,” rafe groans, dragging his hips back before snapping forward, filling you up again. “needy little thing… can’t go a day without me stuffing this pretty pussy, huh?”

his pace is brutal, deep and slow at first, making you feel every inch of him, every drag against your walls. but when you start squirming, moaning, pushing your hips back to meet him, he growls, gripping your wrists and pinning them behind your back.

“so desperate,” he taunts, his thrusts getting rougher, faster, his cock hitting that perfect spot that has you whining. “bet you thought about this all night, didn’t you? cryin’ into your pillow, wishin’ i’d just take you back and fuck you stupid.”

you can only moan in response, eyes rolling back as his hand slides under your body, fingers circling your clit.

“gonna let me hear it, baby?” he rasps, his voice tight as he fucks you harder, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “gonna show me how bad you missed me?”

and when you do, when you break apart with a whimpering cry, shaking, soaking his cock—he groans, pulling you flush against him as he spills inside you, filling you up like he owns you.

rafe presses his lips to the back of your neck, panting, still buried deep. then, with a smirk, he murmurs, “knew you’d come back for this.”

@ rafesbows

[vanteguccir]

idk if this is allowed cuz it’s hella freaky but dom!chris cumming in your panties as a punishment and you go out to run errands and if you must behave he rubs it in your cunt

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCUMMING IN HER PANTIES * CHRIS STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　where Chris came in Y/N's panties while she was out and now he's gonna make her cum while rubbing it in her pussy

FEATURING　pervert!Chris Sturniolo x reader

WARNINGS　::　SMUT (mdni)

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error

The air in the room was thick, charged with tension, and the strong scent of arousal. Y/N lay sprawled across the bed, her body fully exposed to Chris’s intense gaze. Her skin was hot, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she watched him kneel at the edge of the mattress.

"Y'look so pretty like this." He hums thoughtfully, raking long, slim fingers around Y/N's ankle, traveling his short nails across her hypersensitive skin. "Should keep you like this forever."

The way his eyes roamed over her - hungry, possessive, and filled with desire - made her heart race, and her thighs press together instinctively.

But Chris wasn’t having that.

"Uh uh. Spread them, princess." He commanded, his voice low and rough, a tone that sent a shiver straight down her spine.

A whine escaped her throat as her body obeyed, her legs falling open to reveal her aching core. She felt exposed and vulnerable, but the fire in his eyes made her feel anything but ashamed. If anything, the intensity of his gaze only made her wetter.

In his hand, he held the delicate lace of her underwear - the pair she’d pulled out of their shared closet earlier, damp and wrinkled, full of his white and almost dry cum. He brought them up to his face, inhaling deeply, and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment as if reliving the moment he'd came so fucking hard between the fabric. When he opened his eyes again, they were darker, his smirk dripping with sin.

"You smell so fucking good." He murmured, his voice like gravel. "I couldn’t help m'self, y'know? I had to touch my dick while thinking about this pretty little pussy of yours."

Y/N whimpered, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her as a flood of heat pooled above her gaping hole, feeling her head spinning.

"Chris." She whispered, her voice shaky, barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

He leaned over her, bracing one hand on the bed beside her as he brought the lace between her thighs. The damp fabric brushed against her folds, and she gasped, her back arching off the mattress at the sensation. It was cool and sticky.

"Feel that?" He growled, his lips brushing against her ear as he moved the fabric with slow strokes. "That’s me, baby. All over your underwear."

Y/N’s breathing hitched, her body trembling as the fabric dragged over her clit, spreading the mixture of his cum and her arousal. It was filthy, decadent, and unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

"You're sick." She mutters, spreading her legs even more to his eyes and hand.

"Mm." Chris ignores her comment. She was right. He was probably just as sick as she was. "You’re cute like this." He teases instead, wetting his lips.

The damp lace clung to her sensitive skin, massaging her bud of nerves, the texture creating an amazing warm friction that had her thighs quivering.

"Chris." She gasped, her hands reaching out to grip his forearms, needing something - anything - to ground herself. "It feels so- oh, God- dirty."

He chuckled darkly, his free hand sliding up her body to cup her tit, his thumb flicking over her hardened nipple.

"That’s because it is, princess." He murmured, his tone dripping with lust. "And I know that you're loving it, huh?"

Her head fell back against the pillows, a moan tearing from her lips as her hips bucked against the underwear, feeling his middle finger covered with the fabric teasing her hole.

"Yes." She admitted, her voice a broken whisper. "I love it."

Chris groaned, pressing his palm against her clit, his movements becoming more deliberate, her pussy taking on an irritated red color by the second.

"You’re so fucking wet." He groaned, his eyes glued to the way her pussy moved under his touch. "So messy, all covered in me, right, doll?"

Y/N hums, then nods.

"Yeah, Chris." She agrees, forcing their eyes to meet as his hand kept moving. "S'your stupid fault."

Chris buckles his hips under her gaze, breath hitching and eyes lidding as he tries not to grind against Y/N’s legs.

"Can't' blame me for everything, pretty girl."

He smirked, leaning down to capture her lips in a rough kiss. His tongue delved into her mouth, tangling with hers, creating a wet, messy kiss, their moans mingling as the tension in her body coiled tighter and tighter.

Without warning, he shifted the lace, wrapping it tightly around one of his fingers. He moved slowly while keeping her distracted with his tongue, pressing the covered digit against her entrance, teasing her with the slick, rough texture.

Her breath hitched, her eyes flying open to meet his already opened ones as he pushed it inside her in one unrelenting thrust. The sensation was immediate - raw, dirty, and deliciously invasive.

"Oh, God- Jesus." She cried out, her hips jolting at the unknown intrusion. The lace scraped against her walls, the friction bringing her the best feeling of pain and pleasure as he twisted his finger inside her.

"Feels good, doesn’t it?" Chris cooed, slowing his movements for a beat, drawing it out and making Y/N cry out in protest.

"Yes." She choked out, her nails clawing at his biceps skin. "Feels so good." Her clit throbbed so hard she swore she could feel it in her head. "M'so close." She whimpered, her voice desperate as her hips bucked into his hand, forcing his finger deeper inside her.

"Yeah? Then cum for me, princess." He growled, his voice rough and commanding. "I want to feel you soak this. Show me how good it feels."

The combination of his words, the relentless thrust of his finger, and the rough texture inside her was too much. Her body arched off the bed, her thighs squeezing around his hand as her orgasm crashed over her in a violent, blinding wave.

"Chris!" She screamed, her voice breaking as her release flooded over him, soaking the lace even more. The mess was obscene, dripping down her ass cheeks, her entire body trembling uncontrollably as the pleasure consumed her.

Chris moaned, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he watched her fall apart beneath him.

"That’s it." He murmured, his voice thick with arousal. "Fuck, that's so hot."

He slowly pulled his finger out, the lace slick and dripping, and held it up to her lips.

"Open." He ordered, his voice rough with arousal. When she obeyed, he slipped the soaked fabric between her lips, letting her taste their mixed releases as he pressed it against her tongue. "Good girl."

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss from her forehead to her lips, tossing the ruined panties somewhere onto the floor without a second thought.

"You’re so beautiful." Chris muttered against Y/N's mouth, hand now pressing down into the small of her stomach. "I’ll never get enough of you."

She smiled weakly, breath hitching when Chris's fingers dip down towards her pulsing pussy before skirting back up.

"No way you're ever topping this." She mutters.

Chris grins.

"Is that a challenge, princess?"

© vanteguccir

[mountainsandmayhem]

Shhh...Just A Little Bit More

DBF!Joel x Fem!Reader

18+ MDNI

Masterlist || Part Two || Part Three (Soft Version) || Part Three (Spicy Version)

Summary: Joel catches you somewhere you shouldn't be, twice. CW: all p no plot! age gap, spanking, dirty talk, parental guilt, brat and brat tamer, sub/dom dynamics, edging and degradation kinks if you squint AN: I found the bottom right photo on Pinterest and @mermaidgirl30 said it screamed DBF!Joel. I have never written for DBF before so please be kind. Dividers by @saradika-graphics - thank you for all your amazing graphics and dividers, I'd be lost without your page.

“Let go of me, you fucking psycho!” You’re practically yelling over the music of the club, wrenching your arm from Joel’s strong grasp. The security guard approaches and Joel shoots him a glare so dark that he holds his hands up and steps back. “What the fuck, Joel?”

“What are ya doin’ here, sweetheart” he demands, one eyebrow raised. 

“I’m working!” You stomp your foot and then get right up in his face, pointing a finger at him. Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, hanging out in a strip club one town over. “The real question is, what are YOU doin here?” 

You’re only a bottle girl, you don’t get on the stage and have no intentions of stripping. It’s good money, great money actually. At 22 you’re already well on your way to having a down payment on a condo, it’s just too bad you’re having to lie to your parents. 

“With my crew, they picked the place. I’m takin’ you home. Go get your coat.” He crosses his arms over his chest, staring at you sternly. The music is pounding in your ears, the air thick with smoke. Even in the dimly lit hallway you can see the way Joel’s eyes rake over your body, taking in the very tiny Jean shorts and bralette you’re wearing. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spin and flip him the bird as you walk away. You know he’s staring so you give a little extra wiggle of your ass as you walk away. Joel Miller, staring at your ass. The fourteen year old inside you does a happy dance - that version of yourself had a tiny crush on him. Too bad he’s a stuffy, grumpy asshole now. You miss the fun, young Joel. He used to do cannonballs in the pool with you and his daughter Sarah. She was a few years older than you, but he was much more fun than your father. But now? Now he’s a certified prick. Thinking he can drag you away like some sort of barbaric caveman. He’s not your dad, even if he was, you’re an adult. 

When you finish your shift you head outside and pull up your Uber app, men often want to do shots with you so even though you never get drunk at work you also don’t drive there. 

See, Joel. I’m responsible. 

“Let’s go,” his voice is deep, still angry with you. You didn’t see him waiting by the door so you jump. 

“Jesus. You fucking scared me.” 

“Watch your language. Get in the truck.” 

You grumble under your breath that he should kiss your ass as he holds the door open for you. He stalks around to his side of the truck while furrowing his brow and shaking his head. 

“Got somethin’ to say young lady?” 

“Ya,” you say, slumping in the seat and putting your white vans on his dashboard, “kiss my ass.” 

He presses his lips in a thin line, you can see him eyeing your long toned legs from your peripheral vision before the engine roars to life and he speeds off down the gravel highway. 

When you pull up to the house he hops out of the truck and is right on your heels as you open the door. 

“I’m fine, Mister Miller.” You say with a sneer. You know he hates that, he has told everyone he’s ever been introduced to to call him Joel. 

Joel steps into your parents house and calls your dad’s name. “What the fuck! Joel! Shut up!” 

He calls for him again and your dad comes stumbling from his room, tying his robe around his sleeping attire. “Joel? What’s going on?” He flicks on the light, squinting against the brightness. “It’s 3 in the morning.” 

“Just thought I’d let you now know that the guys at work wanted to go to The Skin tonight. Caught your daughter working there.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?!” You yell, pushing at his broad chest. Your dad stands there stunned. Eyes wide and mouth agape. He thought you were working as a nurses aide overnight at the hospital on weekends. He’s even seen you leave the house in scrubs. All a part of the web of lies you have weaved. 

“Don’t speak to Joel that way,” your dad snaps. “Go to your room young lady. We’ll talk about this later.” 

“Kiss my ass, cowboy.” You practically spit at him as you stomp to your room. As you round the corner your mom is standing in the hallway clutching her crucifix necklace. You have a sudden urge to hiss at her with the way she’s looking at you, like you’re a disappointment. A sinner, the worst kind of person in her eyes. 

The next morning was the fight of all fights with your parents. Your dad tried to ground you, your mom started shoving church pamphlets at you. They wouldn’t even fucking listen. 

“IM NOT A STRIPPER,” you yelled at them over and over again. 

Finally, when the yelling ceased, your dad said in a very quiet anger, “young lady. I FORBID you from going there again. Is that clear? I don’t care if you’re 22 or 42, if you live under my roof, you live by my rules. You’re going to go to continue going to your university classes during the week, and on weekends you will be home. Studying. Helping your mother with the chores. You will go to bed at respectable hour. If you need money, you ask us. Is that clear?” 

You blink back tears and head to your room, slamming the door behind you. You are NOT quitting that job. 

When the next weekend rolls around you say goodnight to your parents at 10pm and head to your room. You worked it out with your boss to work the midnight to 4 am shift. So you wait - ear pressed to your door until you finally hear your parents go to bed. You sneak out the same way you’ve been sneaking out for years and run down the street with your newly embroidered denim shorts in hand to meet your Uber. 

You peel yourself away from the men and the booze around 2am to get some fresh air, exiting through the back to the dimly lit alley. You take a big inhale through your nose before you see it. The truck. Joel’s truck. And Joel. Leaning against the truck box, arms crossed, one foot up on the tire. 

You flip him off and then turn back towards the back entrance to the club. He’s on you so fast, grabbing the back of your bicep in his large hand. “You little brat. You aren’t supposed to be here.” 

“Read the shorts, MISTER Miller.” You say it as much venom as you can muster. 

His eyes rake down your body and you can almost feel them burning into you. It feels so good, you never want him to stop. Your pussy throbbed when he called you a brat and you wouldn’t be surprised if your light jean shorts hadn’t been soaked through already. When his eyes reach the pocket he sees ‘Kiss My Ass, Cowboy’ stitched in baby pink lettering and his grip tightens. 

He’s fucking furious with you. Furious that you’re here. Furious that other men get to see you dressed like this. Furious that he wants you so fucking badly. But mostly, furious because he knows you want him too and he’s a weak weak man when it comes to pretty little things like you. He yanks you back against his body and you let out a pained moan. 

“Don’t make me punish you,” he says coldly in your ear and you fight to stop your knees from buckling. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say breathlessly. 

Joel’s lips graze against the shell of your ear, hand gripping so tightly that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow. “So that’s what you want? You want me to punish you? Put you in your place? Huh?” 

You grind your ass back against him, “you would dare, Joel.” 

His other hand clamps down on your hip as he steers you to his truck, walking you around so no one can see the two of you. He opens the back door and pushes you forward until your legs are against the cold steel frame of the vehicle. “You don’t get to call me that. You call me Mr Miller from now on. Understood?” 

“Go fuck yourself, Joel,” you emphasize every vowel of his name, digging deeper. Pushing him. Pushing to see how far he’ll go. You get off on being a brat, and by the way his hard cock is pressing into your ass, he does too. 

He unbottons your shorts then lifts you slightly and pushes your upper body down onto the seat, the truck is high enough that your feet are dangling, ass stuck out for him. “Look at these slutty little shorts.” He tugs on the hem, your shorts now sitting just above your knees. Your pert ass is exposed to Joel and the night air. He tuts at the sight of you, “No panties. Little fuckin’ tease.” 

You whimper at his words, slick starting to coat your thighs. “You’re the one standing back there doing nothing.” You taunt. 

The cool night air spreads goosebumps across your skin, your clit twitches in anticipation of his touch. Other men have fucked you hard to get you to shut your mouth. And finally, FINALLY, you’re going to get fucked by Joel Miller. However, you grossly underestimated the different between the boys were with before and the man behind you now. 

His hand strikes your cheek hard and you let out a loud pained yell. “What the fuck, Joel!” 

“If you’re gonna be a brat,” his hand lands on your ass again, “you’re going to get a spanking.” His voice is harsh and rough as he hits you a third time. The sound of his skin on yours echoing through the cab of his truck. He hits you again, not caring about your cries of protest. 

You’ve never been spanked before and you’re thrown by your bodies reaction to it. At first you were shocked, then humiliated and then the pain and heat travelled to the base of your spine and you found yourself starting to get turned on. Arousal pools in your belly with each strike of his palm and when your pussy throbs the humiliation starts to creep back in. Are you supposed to be enjoying this so much, is this what Joel wants?

You bend your knees up, trying to make space between your bodies. One of his strong hands wraps around your ankles, pinning them to the back of your thighs as he spanks you again. 

“Stop! I’m sorry. I’ll - “ he strikes you again, harder than the last few times and there’s no more pain, every slap is full of pleasure. You let out a deep moan, your pussy practically gushing onto the leather seats. “Oh fuuuuck.”

Now that it’s turning you on it almost eggs Joel on. “Put your hands out in front of you,” he commands. Your arms shoot out, stretching them across the seat above your head. “Such a needy little slut. You’re drippin’ all over my fucking seat, baby girl.” He strikes you again and your arms flinch. “Keep them there.” 

Your ass is starting to get pink, his splotchy handprints covering it. The world around him starts to fade, all that he can see is you and your ass - and he wants to make it hurt. Then he wants to make it good. So very good. 

His strikes keep coming, he’s like a man possessed. “Stop, Joel. Please.” 

He drops your ankles, then uses his hand to spread your thighs apart, the denim biting into your knees. “Shhh…just a little bit more. Look at this messy pussy. You don’t want me to stop.” 

He hits you again and you start to hate how much he’s right. You don’t want him to stop, you’re on the verge of coming and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re sure the second he’s near your clit you’ll explode. 

Both of your cheeks are glowing red and Joel finally stops. You’ve both lost track of how many times he’s hit you. His large palm rubs the marks. You know you should keep your mouth shut, but fuck do you love to rile him up. 

“Are you done now? I have work to get back to.” 

Joel growls behind you. You hear the sound of his belt undoing, the leather whipping out from the demin loops. “I’m sick of your goddamn mouth, baby girl.” 

Your eyes widen in fear, stomach twisting up over the thought of him striking your sore ass with his thick leather belt. Your pussy, however, flutters in excitement. Slut, you think to yourself. 

You hear his buckle clinking, he grabs you by the hair and jerks your head back. “Open you mouth,” he says with a snarl. You obey him and he slides the folded up leather between your teeth. “Bite down on this. You can speak to me again once you’ve learned your lesson.” 

You press your teeth into the rough leather, waiting for his next move. His hand comes across the back of your thigh and it’s a whole different sensation. The pain shoots straight to your core, the walls of your pussy clenching harder than your teeth do as you whine out a high pitched squeal. On instinct your hands shoot back, knees bending to protect yourself from him. He steps back from you, without his heat you’re left in the cold air. 

“Arms up and legs down,” he says in an eerily calm voice. 

You whimper again, grinding your teeth against the leather of his belt before slowly peeling your arms and legs away from your body, returning to Joel’s desired position. You’re so wet that it’s staring pool along the leather seat of Joel’s truck, your hips slipping slightly. 

“Dirty little thing. I’m tryin to punish you and you’re sopping wet.” He steps forward and lays a loud sharp slap with perfect precision right across your sore thigh. 

You yelp again, whining as your lash line fills with tears. This is not what you thought would happen when Joel threatened to punish you. And you definitely didn’t expect to fucking love it. You’re so turned on that you feel dizzy. 

Joel’s lips come to your thigh. Light kisses and his scratchy facial hair peppering along your red hot skin. “Fuck me,” you say around the leather clamped between your teeth. 

Joel laughs into your skin, kissing along the handprints he’s left on your ass. You’re squirming underneath him, pushing your ass towards his face, desperate for him to make you come. His hands grip around your shorts and your whole body relaxes at the thought of him finally fucking you. “I need you to listen to me now, ok?” 

You nod fervently and he lets out an amused laugh. You arch your back at him invitingly, but instead of removing your shorts he yanks them back up. You moan out in protest as he lifts you down from the truck. His strong fingers work to do up your shorts before he spins you. You look like a wreck; mascara smudged under your eyes, cheeks pink, eyes glazed and dopey looking. Cock drunk and he hasn’t even given it to you. He grabs the belt and you release it for him. It’s killing him not to fuck you right here and now. 

His hand cups your chin, squeezing your cheeks and locking eyes with you. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

You try to nod but he’s gripping you so tightly. “Yea? Then you need to do what I say. Ok?” 

“Mm-hmm” 

“Go in there and quit. Then come back out here and I will fuck you so hard that you’ll feel it in your throat.” 

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag  @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @mermaidgirl30

[fangdokja]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 ~ 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

The heat has you trembling.

It’s unbearable—burning through your veins, thickening the air in your tiny, isolated cottage until you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move without feeling the agonizing, desperate pulse between your thighs. Your body betrays you. Slick drips down your legs, staining the sheets where you try to hide, curled up in the furthest corner of your bed, panting, helpless.

You know what’s coming.

You can already hear him outside.

The slow, deliberate crunch of boots against snow. The deep inhale of your scent in the frozen air. And then—

Knuckles against the wooden door.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Kitten.” His voice is all silk and gravel, thick with amusement and something darker. “Open up.”

Your claws dig into the sheets.

Silence.

A chuckle. Then—

The door slams open.

Childe steps inside, shaking snow from his hair, sharp blue eyes glinting as they lock onto you. He inhales again, long and deep, and something in him snaps.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he drawls, voice dropping into something wrecked and wanting. “You smell—so—fucking—good.”

You scramble back as he approaches, but there’s nowhere to go. The bed dips beneath his weight, his body pressing into yours, his scent—pure alpha, thick with need—overwhelming your senses until you’re dizzy.

“Why’re you hiding, hmm?” His lips brush against your ear. “Your body wants me. You need me.”

A whimper. A weak, trembling shake of your head.

He groans, shoving you onto your back, caging you beneath him. “That’s not what your pussy’s saying,” he murmurs, gloved fingers sliding between your thighs. His breath stutters.

“Fuck,” he growls, yanking his gloves off with his teeth before dragging his bare fingers through your soaked folds. “You’re dripping.”

Your body jerks as he grinds his cock against your entrance, rutting like a beast in heat. His voice turns slurred, pussy-drunk, pupils blown wide. “Fuck—fuck—feels so good—”

He forces his way inside.

You choke. The stretch is brutal, his thick cock splitting you open, forcing your body to accommodate him despite your weak resistance. He groans, forehead pressing against yours, lost in the way you squeeze him, the way your body clings to him.

“Made for me,” he slurs, rolling his hips in deep, brutal strokes. “Gonna fill you up—stuff you full—breed this pretty little cunt until you can’t take anymore.”

You sob, nails raking against his back, but it only makes him fuck you harder. His knot swells, locking you in place, sealing him inside you as his hips stutter and—

He spills into you with a wrecked moan, voice breaking on your name.

His teeth sink into your throat, claiming you.

His knot pulses, thick, hot.

And you realize, with horrifying clarity—

He’s not stopping until you’re carrying his pups.

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles

[readerviews]

MEET THE AUTHOR! A conversation with Michael Pronko – Author of “Shitamachi Scam,” part of the Detective Hiroshi Series

Today, Reader Views talks with Michael Pronko about his book, Shitamachi Scam #reading #meettheauthor #authorinterview #readerviews

Shitamachi Scam Michael PronkoRaked Gravel Press (2023)ISBN:  978-1942410317Reviewed by Tammy Ruggles for Reader Views (12/2023) Michael Pronko is a Tokyo-based author who writes in three genres—murder, memoir, and music. He has written about Japanese culture, art, jazz, society, architecture, and politics for Newsweek Japan, The Japan Times, Artscape Japan, as well as other publications. He…

[wendichester]

can you do one where like one day Sam and Dean are on a hunt and are hunting hellhounds and Dean and the reader have always been flirty with one and other and have a little fling going on and they are in a abandoned town and they are walking around and here hellhounds and run and are shotting at them and then dean gets tackled by one and the reader shoots at the hellhound but then she gets tackled and scratched by one and cries out and Dean goes and he picks her up and carrys her into a abandon store and Sam follows. like this is kinda like season 5 episode 10 when jo gets bit by one can you like base it off that please I love your writing sorry this is so long

｡𖦹°‧ abandon all hope,

summary. getting surrounded by hellhounds is never a fun experience. especially when they get you good.

pairing. dean winchester x reader ft. sammy genre. angsty

wordcount. 710

warnings. blood, fighting, just a mess really

The town is dead. Silent. Nothing but the sound of wind whistling through shattered windows and the crunch of gravel beneath your boots. You grip your shotgun tighter, every nerve in your body wired, on edge. Dean walks a few steps ahead, his own weapon at the ready, casting you a sideways glance with that signature smirk.

“You scared, sweetheart?” he teases, voice low and gravelly in the thick night air.

You roll your eyes, though your stomach flutters anyway. “Please. I can handle a few oversized mutts.”

Dean chuckles, but the humor doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You both know what’s out there. Hellhounds are fast, brutal, and invisible unless you’ve got the right kind of sight. Right now, all you can rely on are your ears and instincts.

Sam, a few feet away, grips his own weapon, scanning the darkened street. “Stay sharp. They could be anywhere.”

The three of you press on, weaving through the abandoned town. Streetlights flicker weakly, casting eerie shadows on crumbling brick buildings. Then, just as you turn a corner—

A low, guttural growl vibrates through the air.

You freeze.

The hair on the back of your neck stands up.

Dean barely has time to curse before the sound of claws scraping pavement erupts behind you. You don’t hesitate—you fire a round blindly in the direction of the noise. Sam does the same. The hounds snarl, circling, fast and unseen.

“Run!” Dean shouts.

You don’t need to be told twice. The three of you bolt, feet pounding against cracked pavement. The hellhounds are right behind you, their growls echoing in your ears, impossibly close. You reach the old town square, darting between rusted-out cars, desperate to find some kind of cover. But the hounds are relentless.

Then Dean is yanked back.

You hear his strangled shout before you even see him go down. A hellhound has tackled him, its claws raking across his chest. His shotgun clatters to the ground. He grits his teeth, straining against the weight, struggling to push the beast off.

“Dean!”

You don’t hesitate. Raising your weapon, you aim just past his shoulder and fire. The hellhound howls in pain, its weight lifting just enough for Dean to shove it off. He scrambles up, but before relief can settle, you hear it.

Another growl.

Too late.

A force slams into you like a freight train. You hit the pavement hard, the wind knocked out of you, your gun flying from your grasp. Claws dig into your side, hot pain slicing through you. You scream, thrashing against the weight, trying to push it off, but the pressure is unbearable.

And then, just as suddenly as it came, the weight is gone.

You barely register the gunshot ringing in your ears before strong arms lift you. You feel the heat of Dean’s body against yours, the way his breath comes in short, panicked gasps as he carries you into the nearest building—an old, abandoned storefront.

“Sam, close the damn door!” Dean barks.

Sam shoves a shelf against the entrance, barricading it. Outside, the hounds snarl, claws scraping against the door. The barrier won’t hold for long.

Dean sets you down carefully on the dusty floor. His hands are everywhere, checking your wounds, brushing hair out of your face. His expression is tight, jaw clenched.

“Lemme see,” he mutters.

You hiss as he pulls up your shirt, revealing the long, jagged gashes down your side. Blood seeps into your clothes, warm and sticky.

“Shit,” he breathes.

Sam kneels beside you, pulling supplies from his bag. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

You blink up at Dean, swallowing through the pain. “Told you I wasn’t scared.”

Dean lets out a choked laugh, but his eyes are filled with something deeper—raw fear. “Yeah, yeah. Real badass. Now shut up and let us fix you.”

His hands are steady as he presses a cloth against your side, but you can feel the slight tremble beneath his grip. You reach up, brushing a shaky hand against his jaw.

“Dean,” you murmur, voice softer now.

His eyes flick to yours, something unspoken passing between you. The usual teasing, the flirty back-and-forth—it’s gone. This is different. This is real.

He swallows hard, then nods.

“I got you, sweetheart.” 

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want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @lemonswinchester ⋆ @4k1vrr ⋆ @bejeweledinterludes ( continues in the comments )

[bitterrfruit]

Wild Cherries

John Price x f!Reader tags/cw: modern western AU, cowboys, mean!John Price, chasing, spanking, light sadomasochism, age gap (ish), brat taming, dubcon if you squint, smut wc: 4.9k 18+ mdni

Jonathan Price owns the ranch that neighbours your family's. You've got a bad habit of hopping the fence between them, snooping and stealing, leaving little traces of your misbehaviour behind. What happens when you poke the bear?

✼ Read the full chapter on Ao3 ✼

Jonathan was almost as tall, near as wide as the doorframe he stood in. He glanced above you, expecting someone taller, before he craned his head downward to look at you, and you felt your heart flip behind your sternum.

“Well,” he huffed, voice hoarse from a day’s worth of yelling. His stare narrowed as he soaked you in, crow’s-feet creased; piercing eyes raked from your head to your feet, painfully slowly, and back up again. “Ain’t you a nice surprise.” 

His cocksure voice was rumbling and deep, it sunk under your skin and made you turn pink. You had only ever heard him shouting, heard his roars in the distance when he chastised either you or his ranchmen. Now he uttered his words so low that you could hear the gravel in his throat, it made you want to press your ear to his padded chest and feel the vibrations of his sonorous voice directly from its origin. 

You took the same time to inspect him - realising you hadn’t ever seen him up this close, close enough to smell him. He smelt of hard work and cigar smoke, salt and musk, the warmth of his mammoth body reached out and touched you as if the evening air was suddenly cold. His smoky blue t-shirt had stains of sweat between his broad pectorals and down from his neck, the cotton coated in dust - he had only just turned in from a long day of wrangling, hadn’t yet had the chance to shower or to change. 

He lifted a bronzed and furry arm to lean his elbow against the jamb of the door, so thick with well-earned muscle they threatened to tear the sleeves of his shirt with the slightest flex. You wondered if he picked up his cows with his bare arms, carried them around like they weighed no more than bales of hay. 

His cheeks were ruddy with sunburn and vigour, his firm jaw coated by a dark and barely kempt beard, specked with silvers. His expression was stern, though a glimmer of interest in his steel-blue eyes belied his severity. Heavy lids hung low by virtue of looking down at you, his lips in an analytical curl under the thick moustache that grew under his nose. 

You blinked up at him, and opened your lips to speak - but a gruff snicker from him sucked the air from your lungs before you could utter a word to greet him. 

“Brought me a gift?” He asked richly, glare stuck on you and not the sack of ruby-red jam you hung from your fingers. 

Finding yourself, you gave him a pursed smile. “Lawrence made me come and say hi.” 

“Made you, did he?” He snorted, oozing a knowing arrogance. 

“Yep,” you said, lifting the bag to present it to him. “Eve cooked up some jam.” 

You saw his temples bulge as his jaw clenched tightly, expression sinking into what looked to you like twisted disappointment. 

“Nice o’ you,” he grunted disinterestedly, paying no mind to your olive branch. After a troubled sigh, he asked; “Where’ve you been, lil’ miss Honeybee?” 

The use of your nickname made gooseflesh shiver down your spine. He could only have heard that from your siblings or their ranchmen - how often had they spoken to him? Discussed you while you weren’t there to hear it? Last you thought, they never interacted at all. Now, he seemed to mock you with it. 

But he uttered it so casually, with such a coating of sugar, that it rinsed you like praise. 

“Just working,” you replied flatly, shuffling on your feet, vaguely embarrassed to admit you had abandoned the job already. “In the city.” 

“Mh,” he hummed, giving you a placid nod. “Back for good?”

You bit back the smirk that coaxed your lips. “Maybe.” 

“I’ll have to build a taller fence, then, won’t I?” 

Unable to discern if there was any humour in the forcefulness of his tone, your tongue curled behind your teeth as you tried to find a response that wouldn’t incriminate you. 

And you failed. “I’m a good climber.” 

He didn’t quite smile, you saw his chest rise and fall with a hounded breath. 

“I bet you are.” 

an: hey y'all, as some may recognise, this is the extendo version of my old drabble 'cowboy price'. Not yet the part 3 that many of you were asking for (i'm sorry), but there will be many more parts to come, and I hope they will sate our collective hunger for horny western Price!!

Above is only a snippet, the rest is on my Ao3. love youuuu <3

[writeriguess]

Could I please request a fic where Reader is the only one who gets Katsuki’s penchant for violence and destruction ? Like, she also thinks that villains should suffer and jail is just too soft for them. And she has the same Boleyn glint on her eyes as Katsuki when she fights. So one day they’re paired together for a mission and they get all hot and bothered after a fight and literally rip each other’s clothes away and have steamy secccs 🌝

Thank you!

Kindred Carnage

You and Bakugo always understood each other in a way no one else did.

The others didn’t get it. They didn’t get the way bloodlust could be intoxicating, how villains deserved more than just capture—they deserved suffering. They didn’t understand the way your body craved destruction, how your fingers twitched to inflict pain, how the high of a fight didn’t just leave your heart pounding, but left you wet.

But Bakugo? He understood.

He saw it in your eyes when you fought—the same fire that burned in his. The same hunger. The same lack of mercy. And tonight, when the two of you were finally paired together on a mission, that hunger boiled over.

It started with a fight. A real one.

Not some half-assed scuffle but a brutal, limb-breaking, teeth-clashing, blood-spattered battle that left you breathless.

Your fist connected with a villain’s jaw, sending him sprawling into the dirt. Another came at you from behind, but before he could even touch you, Bakugo blasted him across the alley with a snarl, leaving the bastard screaming as he smacked against a brick wall and crumpled to the ground.

You wiped a smear of blood from your chin and turned, locking eyes with Bakugo. He was panting, his suit torn, his arms flexing, body practically vibrating from the fight. And his gaze—fuck, his gaze was feral. Hungry.

“Shit,” he exhaled, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “You fight like a fuckin’ demon.”

You smirked, stepping closer, sweat and heat radiating off both your bodies. “Like you’re one to talk.”

His pupils were blown, chest still heaving from adrenaline, but you both knew that wasn’t all it was. The way he looked at you—like he was about to devour you—had your thighs clenching, your whole body igniting with a different kind of fire.

It happened in a snap.

One second, you were staring at each other, bodies vibrating with need. The next, you were on him, or maybe he was on you—neither of you cared. Your mouths crashed together in a brutal, teeth-clashing kiss, all spit and desperation.

His hands tore at your clothes, impatient, rough, not giving a single fuck if fabric ripped in the process. You did the same, yanking at his suit, the reinforced material stretching before finally giving way under your insistent fingers.

"Fuck, babe," he growled against your lips, voice thick with lust. "I knew you were crazy, but this—shit—"

"You gonna whine about it, or you gonna do something?" you panted, nails digging into his bare shoulders, feeling his muscles twitch under your grip.

He snarled. And then he did something.

You were against the alley wall before you could blink, his body pressing into yours, hot, solid, and hard. His hands grabbed your thighs, hoisting you up with zero effort, forcing your legs around his waist.

Your back scraped against the rough brick, but the sting only made you hotter.

"Tell me you want it," he demanded, teeth scraping along your jaw, his voice pure, unfiltered gravel.

You smirked, rolling your hips against his, feeling just how fucking hard he was beneath his gear. "You already know I do."

That was all it took.

He shoved your panties aside, no patience for anything else, and slammed into you in one deep, filthy thrust.

You gasped, nails raking down his back as your head hit the wall. He was thick, stretching you open with a brutal intensity that had your breath hitching, your body shaking.

"Fuck yes," he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours, panting against your lips. "So fucking tight."

"Shut up and move," you growled, rolling your hips to get him deeper.

And oh, he moved.

He fucked you like he fought—aggressive, merciless, relentless. Each thrust slammed you against the wall, the impact jolting through your body, forcing your breath out in ragged moans. His hands gripped your thighs, fingers digging into flesh hard enough to leave bruises.

"Louder," he snarled, voice dripping with possession. "I wanna hear you, wanna hear how fucking good I make you feel."

You didn't hold back. You couldn’t. Not when he was fucking you like this, like he was trying to ruin you, like he needed you just as much as you needed him.

Your moans echoed through the alley, shameless, desperate. He buried his face in your neck, biting down just enough to make you cry out, his breath hot against your skin.

"Shit, you feel so fucking good," he groaned, voice tight, almost pained from how hard he was holding back. "Like you were made for me."

His words sent a shockwave through you, a fire racing up your spine, tightening every muscle in your body. Your nails dug into his back, clawing at him as your pleasure built to something unbearable, something explosive.

And then he reached down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing rough, fast circles that had your whole body snapping.

"Katsuki—fuck—I'm gonna—"

"Yeah?" His voice was pure sin, his pace ruthless, his cock slamming into you at just the right angle. "Then fucking do it."

And just like that, you broke.

Pleasure crashed over you like a goddamn blast wave, your whole body shaking as you came hard, thighs clenching around him, nails digging into his shoulders deep enough to draw blood.

He cursed, hips snapping forward one last time before he snarled against your neck, body shuddering as he spilled inside you, grinding deep, panting, breathless.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just heavy breathing, bodies pressed together, slick with sweat, still trembling from the aftershocks.

Then, Bakugo pulled back, looking down at you with that same wild glint in his eyes.

"Fuck," he breathed, licking his lips. "That was..." He shook his head, grinning, his hands still gripping your ass. "You're insane."

You smirked, chest still rising and falling. "Takes one to know one."

His grin widened, all sharp teeth and mischief. "We're doin’ that again."

"Damn right we are."

And you both knew—this was only the beginning.

[schlobba]

⋆.ೃ࿔* :･ lasso.ᐟ ft. erwin smith

( 🗒️: love erwin smsmsm )

⋆.ೃ࿔*𐔌 synopsis゛ remorsefully, your fiancé makes up for trying your patience. reassuring you he has no intention of dodging the responsibility of marriage, in fact, he wants to practice consummation as many times as you allow.

⋆.ೃ࿔*𐔌 ♯: fem!readr; most lowercase intended; breedingg ofc; mating press; oral (f); country life; domestic/homestead; engaged; pet names: diamond, sugar ‎ ‎ ‎ ⓘ wrd count: 3.2k

ꉂ`⟡···· “y’know my dress might needa be a little bigger by then, right?” “’course, diamond… how else are we gonna fit that behind?”

➜ darby, montana

( 1898 ) 12:02 pm

fall sent whipping breezes throughout the acres of land erwin had so lovingly tended, the head of his horse emerging first from the thick tree ridge. your nape greeted him in place of that sweet as syrup smile he’d grown accustomed to. a ways down the hill divided by a dirt path, carving knife warm with your sweat cutting into an apple, nectar running down your wrists while taking pieces for yourself.

the herd stayed closely knitted, expecting ewes grazing peacefully under the territorial eye of your unruly ram byström who also spared glances at the hound dog. with such dense clouds above, the shifting trees surrounding your little washboard and seating provide an unneeded shade, branches supporting a sprawling line of linen above your head.

a wooden table shaved of any splinters supported your elbows, brown eyes taken with how autumn sweeped this ranch not even days after your engagement. tutting your lips in intellection, there wouldn’t possibly be any time to plan a ceremony with erwin making preparations for winter. it was as if snow already coated the ground, seeing as you’d all but noticed hooves heartily beating against gravel.

the rusted whine of the gated entrance finally caught your attention. schulz obediently follows the statuesque blonde, yankee blue eyes digesting you. from that shirred cotton embroidered in floral design to your bare feet — he would turn his trouser pockets inside out all over again.

“one of these days you’re gonna step on something,” he shouts all proper in passing while guiding the chestnut stallion to an open pasture. always speaking chaste yet possessing the unique ability to understand your nonsense.

“not with all these leaves,” one leg over the bench already – you sat the knife aside, “we needs a rake ‘fore snowfall.” you insisted. adjusting the hem of one’s gown, pulling it above your buxom and rushing over.

carefully shutting the enclosure he turned to your nosey expression, “I’ll pick it up with my sheers.” he assured. the man’s lips couldn’t help but curl as you were now inches away from him. though his affections were promptly rejected, “what?” erwin asked.

“ya’ talks about your sheers more than anything,” eyes rolling you ignored that knit forming in his thick brows.

“come on now…” the blonde’s voice faltered in the skin of your neck, pulling away just to see if anything changed.

“spring or summer then?” you scrutinized all but those things that tempted you to drop it like his cupid’s bow.

“elaborate.” his brows fell with an air of unamusement.

even upspoken he knew you were serious. your persiflage continued, “well d’you think white would look good on me in july heat?”

“I think it’s timeless on you.” he gushed against your cheek and settled for the corners of your mouth since you kept moving.

“well then - I just wants to know why you’re so nervous.” your forearms interrupted his rough, calloused hands sliding down your waist. in that moment you glared through him, truly trusting he’d answer accordingly.

“it’s been two months.” erwin stated. “I don’t wanna rush it, diamond.”

the fleeting gaze you unknowingly gave sent aches to his chest, his adam’s apple bobbing before you parted your lips, “why not? are you not excited?”

“please.” eyes cutting to the tip of your nose and pillowy lips, he scoffed. “I want to make sure everything is right before we start a family.”

you giddily flashed your crooked teeth. “who said anything about that?”

“we’re getting married,” he knocked his forehead against yours like a bull. “you’re having my babies.” grin across his face toward the end, finally planting a kiss more becoming than the last few.

analogous to a whirling current of wind gathering you up, erwin’s hands now firmly hoisted your weight in a candid fashion. a brief glimpse of concern lit in his pendulous eyes when your breath hitched in response to such suddenness, subsequently washing over as soon as your hand began blithely unbuttoning his blouse.

your lover’s snug embrace radiated a warmth, twirling with your nerves. for the first time during this lazy october afternoon you’re finally looking like you’ve lifted a finger throughout, erwin hungrily watching these beads of anticipation fall below your collarbone.

“do you wanna start practicing?” he fondly asked, words steady despite his haste. effortlessly carrying you toward the porch of his ancestral farmhouse, authentic leather boots sounding off creaks in the steps he feverly trekked.

“what’d you call it before?” you played with the strands of hair laid thick across his chest, ahead of sitting up in his arms to kiss along his jaw as he jangled the doorknob.

“extracurriculars—” a sharp air left his nose, earning your laughter. the blonde’s support altered to where his palms now held your behind, your legs wrapped around his waist tightly as to stick along for where he’d take you.

the house smelled of sweet spices and vegetables, thoroughly flavoring the meat you had been slow cooking for hours in hopes of a tender finish. its scent wafted through the foyer and pleasantly met erwin’s nostrils, surprisingly arousing him even more.

“christ, how’d I get so lucky...” he deeply spoke into your mouth amidst the hissing breaths and smothered noises you both let out without discipline. the tent in his pants growing larger under the white gold buckle of his cowboy belt, poking at your heat needily.

the blonde didn’t care for sheets or hide blankets, he marched straight into the dining room like one of them soldiers.

“what?” you broke the sloppy kisses to watch the hallway staircase grow distant, eventually out of sight once he passed the kitchen countertops. “y���wanna eat first?”

“mhm.” erwin answered. prompting his placement of you directly on the table yet to be set, hiking your frills up above your thighs. cotton panties gated with a bow, that of which haloed over a stain of longing just for him. a finger of his pressed against your wetness absent of novelty, exploring your folds and watching as they ate up the fabric, cloth roughing up against your more sensitive flesh.

the man had since kneeled, practically breathing into such supple skin whilst pressuring more against your clothed cunt with his thumb. he often caught himself wolfing down the spit collecting in his mouth, salivating at the thought of you on his tongue. it wouldn’t be the first time he considered himself at your mercy.

“yous gone let me take ‘em off all by myself?” you queried, looking down at him with an expectant stare. your fiancé’s gaze was more occupied by your other set of lips then, but he eventually adhered and reached his hands up your spread thighs.

he slid your pretty underwear down the skin of your legs, a hand helping you wriggle the rest of the way. your body tensed when he kissed one of your feet which were damn near filthy from chasing chickens, but erwin was just as ribalding. he simply won’t admit the times his languish left him cumming to only the scent of your worn panties. as if he really needed to, his expression outwardly famished at the sight of you dripping onto the polished oak, smooching up your inner thigh whilst holding a vehement glare.

a gratuitous groan rattles from your depths, enduring the waves of pleasure ensuing as his tongue greedily laps at your juices. those rigid palms of his subconsciously found themselves hooking your thighs over his broad shoulders, allowing himself to suckle at your intimacy more aggressively. your precious hums and squeezing legs encourage the blonde, his pronounced nose bumping up against your shorthairs, jaw slacked so his tongue could properly punch in and out of your twitching cunt.

erwin’s cock had been weeping between his legs, jumping at the sound of his spit bubbling against the bud of your cunnie. you didn’t think his tongue could reach any further but he soon required deeper conversation with such a talkative pussy, forcing you backward onto the sanded tabletop. his hairy forearms wrapped around your legs to urge them apart, fingers creating little indents in your thighs while his face buried itself snug between those soaking folds. the blonde loudly smacked and sucked like a bitch to a bone, licking stripes up and down your cunt interchangeably with tongue fucking you, bottom lip firmly pressed under your slit.

“that feel good?” he slobbered. your yelps and drawn out vowels were complimented by his attentive croons. he empathized with how starved your hole was for his girth, feeling it tighten around his saliva coated muscle in prayer for something shaped just like him to guzzle down.

amidst reply your chin bunched up under the downward look you gave him, reaching lower to spread yourself wider. “go up—“ you insisted breathlessly, heaving in and out while a ball of yarn unraveled inside your tummy.

spoiling you similarly to a debutante made it so erwin rarely put his needs first during sex. only when you began bucking into his face after around twenty minutes of nonstop devouring did he become the slightest impatient. still he chose to satisfy himself with your climax on his taste buds, ensuring his girl’s cunt drooled ahead of pounding it senseless. but even in this pussy-whipped daze the blonde’s cock kept him mindful. the man would never be devoid of any purpose, not when your plump pussy’s sitting all gorgeous, practically begging for his attention.

this time you didn’t have to yank his head of angel hair to shoo him in light of your overstimulation. he’d already stood on the soles of his boots, breathing through his mouth like an exasperated idiot, deftly undoing his belt to release some of the tension.

“diamond,” erwin murmured under his breath only to realize he’s called on you, “mnh, don’t eye me like that.” knitting his wild brows did he whisper. your lover boy could barely stroke his cock he was so close, and your repeatedly renewed expression of excitement at his length was incredibly rousing. “can I…?” words laced with perversion did he query, gently pushing his fat cockhead against your gushy cunt, a groan leaving him as his eyes ate away at your beautiful body.

your meek smile melted him with embarrassment, “hmph, I gots to say it?” you asked, lips forming to wince while you elevated up onto your elbows in search of a better listen.

“no, s’just—“ erwin’s voice rasped out, only when he discarded anything from his waist down and began climbing up onto the table did your face morph with curiosity. “let me lift your legs a bit.” he kindly requested, breath now clashing with yours.

your movement lasted little without his assistance, softly guiding you back to fold your legs. he was now looming over you with an ounce of uncertainty, analyzing the scrunch of your nose and wrinkle ridden strain. words of concern were promptly exchanged, initiating an adjustment beneath his large stature. now that the burning in your hamstring subsided, you had more room to experience this relatively new position, his pelvis hovering a ways above yours — sheer length of his manhood all but making up for the distance.

he grinded his stiffness in a specific motion, teasing himself with your slick while securely grasping the skin under your knees. your moans goaded him to pass the surface, heightening once a few inches actually did. in this state erwin felt he could thrust deeper than ever, sweat running down his hefty ballsack in temptation. all your devoted fiancé could think about was jerking his dick against the hugging walls beyond your entrance, desperate to fill up his barn cat of a woman.

after a few moments of torturously paced action, erwin finally honed how hard he’d let his shaft slap against the plush skin of your ass. grinding his forehead into yours while rhythmically thrusting into you, drinking up your adorable faces if he wasn’t occupied with blinking in that very second. his voice had periodically joined that of your own each time you gripped particularly tight, sucking him in a spoiled fashion each time he reared back. the plap plap plap of his dick made your brain rattle ’round, eyes half lidded and mouth wide with moans like a brothel girl. when words were coherent they implored he continued, begging like the submissive wife everyone expects of you.

the table rammed back and forth on its four legs, parallel to erwin’s ploughs that became harsher each time his cock plunged inside your saturated mess. you couldn’t recall exactly how your dress turned into a flimsy skirt around your waist, folded a dozen for erwin’s gawking. but it was his regards that centered you — his constant presence no matter how primitively he may have fucked into you. the blonde didn’t relent in his shower of love across your exposed skin, passionately kissing over your shut eyes and such when you’re much too engrossed to return said kisses. even minding his off white teeth against your breasts, pampering you delicately akin to a hand sculpted china doll. such precise movements yet the furniture beneath you still moved with exuberance, and you still frothed around him in melded bouts of ecstasy.

“feels nice, don’t it?” erwin exhaled, experiencing himself flex inside you sensitively. the heat of the kitchen spilling into the room, droplets on one’s skin illuminated by a warm rustic lighting. he wondered what you thought of him, pinning you down like that of a roman trying to win a brawl.

“god almighty…” your voice eased out between hiccups of enjoyment, “don’t stop!” you need not ask but he’d developed some liking for the nagging - the reassurance.

“gone have to wed in spring then,” the blonde happily reaffirmed his position with blue collar arms, “seeing as you’ll be a mama by tonight.” he lovingly said before weighing into you more, damn near flattening your thighs onto the table just to allow more room for his shaft to grind against your swollen bundle of nerves.

your reply was written roughly, forcing your tongue past his supple lips and somehow pulling him in closer, imagining your hands cradling his head like this under sunlight stained by fancy colored glass. neither of you let up for air — breathing between this salivating exchange in an animalistic intensity, daydreaming of one another, comfortably naive.

“you’re squeezing me so tight.” he spoke into your loose lips, watching you break away with pitiful squeals once his dick began repeatedly bullying a certain spot near your cervix. erwin relished in your expression, all gobsmacked like an innocent southern belle, only to be broken in by some rugged stud. those beady brown eyes grew wide, and he could only buck at the thought of you cumming around his girth. “what’s that sugar? can’t take no more?” he nibbled at your chin.

“mphhm—“ you hum and swore all at once, subtly nodding while a pressure built up just below the surface of your abdomen, brows knitting almost painfully.

your fiancé struck hard opposed to fast now, letting his pelvis slam against yours with every coo and comment. “y’ain’t bailing on me now, are you? not when y’got me all worked up…” he muttered, his lovely blue eyes sitting drunk on a determined expression. “…not when I got so much to give you, hm?”

it was erwin’s actions that were more demanding compared to his words, usually. but the tone he’s giving you more than beckons you let him hammer you til’ the next harvest moon. his breath hit against your face in wild pants like some dog in heat, and you more than obliged with your digits digging into his shoulders. nose brushing against yours, he continued rutting inside your squelching cunt until your voice was giving out, grasping behind your knees tighter than ever before just to keep his soon-to-be wife still for his thick ropes of cum.

“m’not, mmm’not,” you slurred incoherently. “y’just gonna get me knocked uuuup!” how cute it was to watch your lip quiver with restraint. erwin wondered if you measured your affect on him. certainly not — not when you walk around here asking to be barefoot and pregnant.

sounding like a babbling fool, your trembling legs fought the urge to lock around his defined back, toes curling so hard a knuckle or two may have popped. the blonde’s baritone voice encouraged you almost frantically, pacing his breaths in hopes you would follow said motions, thoroughly guiding your unruly reactions beneath him. all while pumping back and forth, ruts getting sloppy and short as to keep any semblance of your alluring warmth and maintain the perfect environment for his seed.

his ears perked to your groans of relief, listening as you came undone around him with an expression only he got to see. ‘twas a matter of time before your cunt made way for his gluttonously dense amounts of cum, weakly throbbing with each tense of his balls against your gaping hole, pussy lips impressively parted by his sheer mass alone. erwin intrinsically held you under the grip of his large farm-hands, placidly shuttering in response to the tranquil lull your body provided. he was no longer overladen with energy as you more than sucked every bit of it out of him, all your love could do was slowly flutter his lashes back open, witnessing your edible expression stare back into his own unexplainable countenance.

“did y’mean it?” you ask, voice labored with exhaustion and knees still surrounding your pretty lil’ head.

his grapple became lazy and slick with mixing sweat, “huh?” erwin grew perplexed at such a persistent thing like you. though accompanied by how persuasive you are, he learned to love it years ago. pet name on his tongue, he inwardly hushed himself and filled the silence with a considerate gaze.

“‘bout me being a mama ‘n stuff.” you tried to avert your eyes but not only was he still brooding over you, he followed the turn of your head so he never left your field of view, all to kiss you once more.

“a million times over—” erwin muffled into the plump skin of your cheek, marking you from your forehead to your chin with good loving. “you know that.”

“and the wedding?” another familiar question soaked with insecurity left your nectar flavored lips, those of which erwin often had to ignore just to hear you clear.

“hmph…” he freed your legs at last, sitting up but not slipping out just yet. “may. when the sun lasts longer and you won’t need sleeves.” erwin said thoughtfully. the blonde’s sentence narrated the image he envisioned, his wife amidst fields of green dawning victorian lace and warm silver.

“y’know my dress might needa be a little bigger by then, right?” you said cautiously. a hand of yours grazed your belly, heavy with implication and overall fatigue.

“’course, diamond…” you could hear his toothy smile before cutting your eyes to him, both his palms now encapsulating the waist they fit so perfectly around. “how else are we gonna fit that behind?”

ᯓᡣ𐭩

[shybluebirdninja]

Dominate

Summary: He doesn’t care about the wedding vows—Bucky’s version of marriage is total control, and he’ll make sure you know it.

Pairings           : Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Note                 : non-consensual elements, forced marriage

You should’ve known better than to think Bucky would play by any of the rules. The minute the ring slid on your finger, it wasn’t just a vow to love and cherish—it was a goddamn ownership. That’s what he wanted, what he made sure you understood every time his metal hand gripped your throat just a little too tight, his eyes dark with something dangerous.

Tonight, it felt heavier.

The room was dim, the air thick, and you could feel his presence before he even stepped in. Like a storm about to break, tension crackling all around. Bucky didn’t do soft and sweet. He didn’t do gentle. He did control. Every damn breath you took belonged to him now.

The door creaked, and your stomach tightened. You heard the heavy footsteps, the subtle clink of his metal fingers flexing, the way the air shifted as his massive frame filled the doorway.

“Get up.”

It wasn’t a request. His voice was a low growl, dark, commanding. Your body reacted instantly, muscles tight, your pulse quickening like prey caught in a predator’s snare. You couldn’t defy him, not now. Not ever. The bed was suddenly too soft, too confining, but as you stood, the heat between your legs was undeniable.

Bucky’s eyes raked over you, slow and heavy, as if stripping you with nothing but his gaze. His flesh hand reached out, hooking around your waist, dragging you close enough that you could feel the hard edge of his body pressed against yours. The way his chest rose and fell, the hunger in his eyes—it sent a shiver straight down your spine.

“You scared, doll?” His lips curled into a smirk, breath hot against your ear. “You should be. You belong to me now. Completely.”

His words weren’t romantic. They were a threat, wrapped up in something much darker, much more twisted. He was staking his claim, making sure you knew just how deep this went.

His hands gripped the thin fabric of your dress, tearing it down the middle with a sharp pull. “Fuck the pretty vows,” he growled, his voice like gravel. “You think I care about that shit? I don't give a damn about promises. I only care about you, every fucking inch of you being mine.”

His metal hand traced along your bare skin, cold and unyielding. You whimpered, but the sound only seemed to encourage him, his lips finding the sensitive spot on your neck, biting down hard enough to make you gasp. He chuckled, low and dark. “That’s right, baby. I like hearing you beg.”

You didn’t say anything. Hell, you couldn’t. Words were caught in your throat as his hand slid lower, brushing over your thigh, making you quiver beneath his touch. The roughness of it all—the dominance, the intensity—had your body aching for him in ways that were far from innocent.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his voice rough against your skin. “All needy already, huh? You like being owned, don’t you? Knew you would.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, biting again, harder this time. “Tell me you fucking love it.”

Your lips parted, the words barely coming out, but that didn’t stop him. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. “Say it.”

“I… I love it,” you whispered, breath hitching.

“Good girl.” His smirk deepened, and his grip tightened, the power behind it leaving you dizzy, craving more. “Gonna make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

And just like that, he had you pinned against the wall, his hips grinding into yours, hard and demanding. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, and it only made the heat between your legs intensify. His lips found yours, but it wasn’t a kiss—it was an invasion, his tongue dominating yours, owning every bit of you in the process.

He pulled back, panting slightly as he grabbed your jaw roughly, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “You think you can walk away from me?” His tone was mocking, dangerous. “Nah. I’ll fuck you so hard, you won’t even want to.”

Without warning, he flipped you around, your chest pressed against the cold wall as his metal hand gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head. You were completely at his mercy. And Bucky? He fucking loved it.

“You’re gonna scream my name,” he growled into your ear, his breath hot against your neck. “And when you do, you’ll remember this is forever, doll.”

You could feel him behind you, the raw heat of his body pressing into yours as he pushed your legs apart. The tension in the room was thick, electric, as he took his time teasing you, dragging his fingers over your soaked folds. Your body arched, a moan slipping past your lips, but he wasn’t satisfied.

“Not yet,” he hissed, yanking you back by your hair. “You don’t come until I say. Understand?”

Your breath was ragged, heart racing as you nodded frantically. “Y-Yes, Bucky.”

“Good.” He chuckled, dark and low. “You’ll learn to obey.”

Then, without warning, he thrust into you, hard and deep, forcing a cry from your throat. His grip on your hair tightened, pulling you back against him as he moved, relentless and rough, every thrust making your knees buckle. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, and you couldn’t hold back the moans that spilled from your lips.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with lust. “Take it. Fucking take it.”

His pace quickened, each thrust more brutal than the last, his body dominating yours in every way possible. The intensity, the rawness—it was overwhelming, consuming, and you loved every second of it.

“I’ll never let you go,” he growled, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he drove into you harder. “You’re mine. Forever.”

You could feel the pressure building, your body trembling as his hand slipped between your legs, rubbing your clit with rough, practiced strokes. He knew exactly how to push you over the edge, and he did it mercilessly.

“Come for me,” he demanded, his breath hot against your ear. “Come on, doll. Let go.”

And you did—shuddering and gasping as the pleasure crashed over you, your body convulsing in his arms. But Bucky wasn’t done. He held you there, his movements never slowing, dragging you through wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure until you were a trembling mess beneath him.

When he finally released you, his grip loosened, and you collapsed against the wall, panting and spent. But Bucky? He was still rock hard, still hungry.

“You think we’re done?” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement as he pulled you back up. “We’ve only just started, doll.” And as his lips found yours again, rough and demanding, you knew—this wasn’t a marriage. This was a fucking surrender.

[anonomano]

Connection ~ Carlos Sainz

Part three

Mafia!Carlos Sainz x Fem,Arranged!Reader

Prolouge Part one Part two

synopsis: The beginning of the marriage

warnings: Mean carlos

You hadn’t seen Carlos since your wedding night. It had been three weeks; for all of those three weeks Carlos had been off on a business trip. A trip nobody would tell you any details about. You suppose you were thankful for the space, you couldn’t stop thinking about your wedding night; how he walked out right after.

As the days passed, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and anxiety. On one hand, you were grateful for the distance between you and Carlos, it gave you time to process what had happened on your wedding night.

On the other hand, the uncertainty of his return weighed heavily on your mind. You wondered what kind of mood he would be in when he finally returned home. Would he still be indifferent towards you, or would he have changed in some way during his absence?

You tried to distract yourself from your thoughts by throwing yourself into your daily routine. You cooked, cleaned, and took care of the house. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the back of your mind.

Every time you heard a car outside, your heart would skip a beat, wondering if it was Carlos returning home.

As the time ticked on, the anticipation grew even stronger. You tried to occupy yourself with other things, but your eyes kept drifting towards the clock, counting down the minutes until Carlos's return.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Your heart leapt into your throat as you froze in place, waiting for the inevitable sound of the front door opening.

You heard the car door slam shut, followed by the sound of footsteps on the gravel path leading up to the front door. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you waited, your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

The door handle turned, and Carlos stepped into the house. He looked tired and travel-worn, his clothes rumpled and his hair disheveled.

He paused in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

He didn't say anything, simply standing there and taking you in. You could feel his gaze raking over your body, as if he was trying to see if anything had changed since he left.

As Carlos continued to look at you, he couldn't help but notice the changes in your appearance. You looked more mature, more refined. Your features had lost some of their youthful softness, replaced by a more defined and elegant look.

He let out a low whistle, a small smirk playing on his lips as he took a step closer to you.

He closed the distance between you, standing mere inches away from you. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"You've grown up." he said, his voice low and rough.

He let his hand linger on your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. His eyes roamed over your face, taking in every detail.

He moved even closer, his body now pressed against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, making your skin tingle.

He leaned in, his face now mere inches away from yours. His breath was warm against your skin as he spoke again, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

"You look absolutely stunning." he whispered, his eyes darkening with desire.

He seemed to notice the change in your demeanor, the way you stiffened slightly at his touch and the indifferent look in your eyes.

He chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Still playing hard to get, I see." he said, pulling away slightly.

He took a step back, a smirk still playing on his lips. He looked you up and down again, his eyes lingering on your body for a moment before meeting your gaze once more.

"You know, it's cute when you try to resist me." he said, his tone teasing.

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall as he continued to look at you. His smirk widened as he spoke again.

"But we both know that eventually, you'll give in."

“To what, Carlos?”

He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer to you again, his voice taking on a more commanding tone.

"To me." he said simply, his eyes glinting with a hint of possessiveness.

——————————————————————————

The longer Carlos was home the more difficult things got for you. He would walk around sweaty and shirtless in the mornings; you had to admit, no matter how irritating you found him, he was a very attractive man.

You would overhear him talking with his sisters about the changes to the business since his father died, you would also overhear him with other women. That hurt. It especially hurt considering you coincidentally found yourself surrounded by only women when he was not around. He didn’t trust you.

——————————————————————————

“So… when are you thinking of having children?”

the question struck you. You thought back to a conversation you had with your mother before getting married. That you should focus on having children and raising a family. The only problem was that you weren’t sure if Carlos was interested in that.

“I…I’m not sure. Don’t get me wrong..I would love one..but I am not sure if Carlos is ready”

“Can’t you just talk to him?”

That was a question that struck you deeply.

@formulas-bitch @ini3103