#also yes he is getting tipped for his great ass

[highladyluck]

One of the Seanchan […] tossed him a fat silver coin with strange markings, a forbidding woman’s face on one side and some sort of heavy chair on the other.

Ok so a) normal people call a heavy chair pictured on coinage a ‘throne’ and b) that’s your future mother-in-law and yes she does hate you

[krirebr]

Luck Be a Lady

Pairing: soft!dark Curtis Everett x female reader

Word Count: ~10.1k

Summary: Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head?

Warnings: Mob AU, violence, allusions to murder, explicit language, dubcon touching, noncon touching (not Curtis), willfully oblivious reader, SMUT - facefucking, dirty talk, light d/s dynamics, praise kink, other explicit sexual content. This is definitely on the darker end of the soft!dark spectrum, so proceed with caution! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Masterlist

A/N: And here it finally is! This is my first real attempt at soft!dark. I hope I did it right! 😂

This was inspired by two things: 1) me going to a rep screening of Goodfellas and spending the entire time wondering why I hadn't done a mob au yet and 2) @bigtreefest saying "enforcer!Curtis Everett and mob boss!Andy Barber" in my general direction. Thanks for the inspo, friend!!

And big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who not only came up with Curtis's name for reader but also offered heaps of encouragement and was a great sounding board. And thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for helping me figure out how exactly we'd get to the smut. Thanks Siri!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me about this! 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You fruitlessly tug down your very short skirt as Holly talks at you. You’re both standing in the corner of the bar’s basement waiting for the night to start in earnest—your first night.

“Lloyd’s not so bad,” she says of your boss, the man who runs this little underground gambling ring. “You’ll have to split your tips with him at the end of the night, but he doesn’t take that much, and you’ll make enough that you won’t really notice. As long as you do that, he’ll mostly keep his hands to himself.”

You nod along, glancing at the mustachioed man conferring with the bouncer at the door. The interview process for this job had boiled down to a thorough once-over that’d made you feel naked in your jeans and t-shirt and a “You’re not too stupid to take a drink order, are you?” and then you had the job.

Holly had vouched for you. Neighbors for almost half a year, she’d come home early one morning last week and witnessed you trying to convince the landlord that you were good for your past-due rent. She’d taken you for coffee and told you she might be able to help if you were good at keeping your head down and mouth shut. And now you were here.

“The customers, on the other hand,” she continues, smacking her gum, “you’ll have to let them touch, at least a little bit. Within reason, you know? But if anything gets out of hand, you can just tell Jake at the door and he’ll take care of it.”

“Within reason?” you ask, voice shaking, just the littlest bit, as the pit that started forming in your stomach when you agreed to this grows a little more.

The look she gives you verges on exasperated. “Well, you want to make money, don’t you?”

Yes, you do. Very much so. It’s a need, not a want. So you nod and try to listen as she keeps giving you the rundown. 

Before you’re ready, the first patrons start trickling in and then you’re off to the races. It’s not too bad. No one’s orders are too complicated, mostly just bottles of beer and glasses of straight whiskey. The bartender, Colin, is friendly enough, although you learn that he’s another person you’ll need to split your tips with. 

As for the touching, there are hands on your hips, pats to your ass. But you’re rewarded with folded-up bills held up between fingers or tucked into the strap of your top. Or, twice, slid behind the waistband of your skirt. Once you realize that the majority of these bills aren’t ones or fives, but twenties, you care about the touching that comes with them much less. Plus, you’re too busy to really think about it that hard. 

You can’t believe how busy it is for a random Tuesday night, multiple games of poker, craps, and who knows what else all going at once. But when you mention that to Holly, she just laughs and shakes her head. “This is nothing,” she says. “On the weekends there’ll be three more of us and another one of Jake. Things get wild.” 

You don’t have time to decide whether that makes you nervous or excited before someone is signaling for your attention again. You manage to suppress your grimace when he slides his arm around your waist to tell you what he needs from the bar. You’re rewarded for your troubles by a wad of twenties. You aren’t sure who these men are to tip so freely, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It’s an hour or two later that Lloyd calls you over to where he’s speaking to a large, impossibly broad man, dressed in a soft-looking henley under a leather jacket with dark jeans. There’s dark ink all over his hands that disappears up his sleeves and reappears on his neck in intricate lines. He’s got close-cropped hair and a full beard that’s neatly trimmed. His deep blue eyes drill into you right away and you do your best not to shiver.

“Got a new girl tonight, Everett. Still learning the ropes, but she’ll take good care of you, won’t you, Cupcake?” 

“Yes, of course,” you say, before Lloyd wanders off to check on one of the poker games.

The man, Everett, lets his eyes rove over you. “Cupcake, huh?” His voice is deep, gritty, but there's something there that's much gentler than you expected.

You give him what you hope is a coy smile. “Sure. If you want.” Lloyd was treating him like he's important. You hope important means deep pockets.

He hits you with a penetrative stare, so strong you almost have to take a step back. “No,” he finally says. “I don't think so. I'll find something more fitting.” Then he turns and starts to walk away, before calling over his shoulder. “I'm gonna get dealt in. Bring me a whiskey once I'm settled.”

You watch him go for just a moment, and then head to the bar, asking for a whiskey. 

“This for Everett?” the bartender, Colin, asks. When you nod, he grabs a fancy bottle off the top shelf. “This is all he drinks. And he doesn't pay for it, alright? Don't ever think about giving him a bill.” 

You look back at the man in question, seriously looking at the cards he’s just been dealt. Who is he???

You collect his whiskey and move back to him. As you set it down, he turns to you. “How about this?” he asks as he holds up a crisply folded hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes widen at the money. All you’ve done is bring him one straight pour. “There’s another one of these in it for you if you make sure I never see the bottom of this glass tonight. Sound good?” And then he folds the bill one more time in his thick fingers, before sliding it under the low-cut neckline of your blouse. Your skin tingles where he brushes against it.

“Yeah, you got it,” you just breathe out, a little shocked you’re able to form words. He gives you a smug smile that you can only describe as shark-like before turning back to his cards, and you understand it as the dismissal that it is. 

You move around the room, collecting empties, getting refills, trying to goodnaturedly accept unsolicited touches. The whole time you feel eyes on you, but whenever you glance Everett’s way, he’s focused on his poker game.

Eventually, a down moment finds you catching your breath against the wall. The moment Holly sees you standing still, she’s quickly making her way to you. “You need to be more careful around Curtis,” she hisses, lowly.

You look at her, confused. “Curtis?” Jake’s at the door. Colin’s behind the bar. You don’t know a Curtis.

“Curtis Everett!” You glance at the man at the poker table. He’s running a poker chip across his knuckles mindlessly. Then he looks up and you briefly make eye contact before you quickly look away. Holly is staring at you and she looks worried. But the name still doesn’t mean anything to you, so you shake your head and shrug. She groans as quietly as she can. “He’s Barber’s top enforcer!”

This whole conversation feels so out of the blue that it takes you a minute to catch up. Barber. Andrew Barber. The most feared mob boss in the city. Probably the state. Maybe even more. Ruthless and exacting was how the papers described him. He’d been the subject of multiple stings and taskforces and whathaveyou but nothing ever stuck. “He works for Andrew Barber?” you ask, shocked and a little appalled.

Holly stares at you in a way that you can only describe as dumbfounded. It takes her a few moments to find her words, then, “Bitch, you work for Andrew Barber!”

Everything stops. “What?” you gasp.

“Oh my god,” Holly groans. “This was such a mistake. It’s an underground card game in his city! Who did you think was running things?”

“I– I don’t know,” you stutter, stupidly. The god’s honest truth is that you’d never really stopped to think about it. You’d been staring down an eviction, struggling to afford groceries. Unable to make ends meet no matter what you did. When Holly told you about this job, all you saw were dollar signs. You didn't think about anything further. Of course, you’d known these games were illegal, but it seemed so minor in the grand scheme of things. You hadn’t connected it to anything bigger because you just hadn’t wanted to.

But now– Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do? You know what you should do. You should walk out the door right now. You should find some other legitimate way to pay your bills. It’ll be safer. It’ll be better. It’ll be so much harder.

As you bite your lip, trying to process all of this information, Holly continues. “Listen,” she says, “still get him drinks, be friendly, whatever you need to do. But keep your distance however you can. Don't encourage him. He's just– He's really dangerous. They don't call him Barber’s attack dog for nothing, ok?”

“Yeah,” you say. You start to look back in Curtis’s direction but stop yourself. You think about the hundred you already have and the one promised to you at the end of the night. You think of how empty your pantry is. But then you see the genuine fear in Holly's eyes. You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks.”

“He doesn't even come in here that often. I'm surprised to see him tonight, so I'm sure it’ll be fine,” she says, but you can tell she’s nervous.

You nod, absently, finally letting yourself glance over at him. His drink is getting close to the bottom. “Shit,” you mumble. “I gotta get him his refill.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Holly asks. 

You should let her do it. You absolutely should. But you just can’t give up on that tip. You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. But thanks.”

You head back to the bar and grab Curtis’s top-shelf whiskey of choice from Colin, then make your way to his table. You set it down next to him, hoping to move away without him even noticing, he’s so engrossed in the game. But as you take a step back, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. He holds it tightly until you meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way you feel his words in your knees. He strokes his thumb down the inside of your wrist, then abruptly lets go, pushing his chips to the middle of the table. You step away, gathering yourself as subtly as you can, and get back to work.

The rest of the night goes quickly. The crowd gets a little rowdier as they drink more, but you find that it’s nothing you can’t handle. The reality of who these people are, what they’re connected to, never leaves your mind. But really, they’re not so bad. None of this feels so bad at all. And soon, people start heading out. You’re beginning to clean up, when a recognizable voice rings out, “Bambi!” You turn and lock eyes with Curtis. He crooks two fingers at you and you quickly make your way over to him.

“Bambi?” you ask.

He grins at you and it feels more than a little predatory. You’ll never admit how much you like it. You try to keep Holly’s warning at the forefront of your mind. “Wide eyes and just getting your legs under you,” he says. You instinctively duck your head at that, which earns a dark chuckle. “Here,” he continues, as he pulls a genuine, fat money clip out of his back pocket. You’ve never seen something like it in real life before. He peels off two bills and holds them out to you. “This is what good girls get,” he says, a low rumble in his voice.

You swallow as you take them from him. Two hundred dollars. Twice what you were expecting. “Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He shakes his head. “You earned it.” Then, after one last long look at you, he turns around and leaves.

You stand and stare after him. You don’t doubt anything Holly said, but three hundred dollars, just for bringing him drinks. He doesn’t seem that bad, not really. A little intense maybe, but there’s some sort of interest there, and it can’t be that bad to encourage it, just a little if it earns you these sorts of tips, can it??

Any hesitance you have about this entire endeavor completely disappears as you count your money at the end of the night.

Your first week flies by. You're starting to get the hang of the job. You get along with your coworkers. You get to know the regulars. You like it. Even Lloyd isn’t so bad as long as you give him his cut at the end of every night.

And you’re making so much money.

In your downtime, you pay your landlord what you owe him. You go grocery shopping without scouring for coupons first or calculating exactly what you can afford beforehand. You make a Pinterest board of what you want your apartment to look like now that you might actually be able to buy things to fill it. For the very first time, you’re thinking about things you actually want, not just desperately trying to figure out how you’ll pay your bills. You’ve never felt this calm, this relaxed, this free before. It’s an incredible feeling.

And Curtis. Despite Holly’s reassurances that you wouldn’t see him much, he seems to be there whenever you are, trying to capitalize on his winning streak at the poker tables, you assume. His tips are still insanely generous. You don’t think he carries anything less than hundred dollar bills. 

And there’s just something about him. The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s not like the other men here. His touch is like fire, warming from the inside. There’ve been times when his hand on your hip has almost made your knees buckle. That doesn’t happen with anyone else here.

But you’re being smart and you’re being safe. You are. You’re going to set a savings goal, you think. And once you hit that number, you’ll be out of here, onto something more legitimate. And until then, you’ll just keep your head down and mouth shut, like Holly said. You haven’t even really seen anything. It’s a good plan. It’ll be fine.

She’s right that the weekends are wilder. Even with three additional girls working the room, you’re kept running. You do your best to keep an eye on Curtis’s drinks, but it’s much harder than on weeknights. And you aren’t really able to pause when you drop them off. It’s one of these times, as you’re pulling away from the table as soon as you’ve set his glass down, that you’re stopped short by his hand on you. He pulls you back in by the wrist and says, “They’re just running you ragged tonight, huh, Bambi?”

You smile and shrug. “It’s busy.”

He holds out a bill and you try not to smile even wider as he slips it into the waistband of your skirt. “For all your hard work.”

You bat your lashes a little. “You spoil me.”

“I like spoiling you,” he says, lowly. 

“You’re too sweet,” you say softly. Then, pulling your arm away with a wink, you add, “Gotta run,” and you’re onto the next table.

You’re getting good at this, figuring out what level of harmless flirting is just enough to keep the money flowing. And you’re having fun. You’d never expected that.

Holly and two of the other girls, Jane and Kristi, are congregated at the end of the bar, waiting for drinks, when you join them. They’re all watching you warily. “So, uh,” Jane starts quietly, “you seem to be getting pretty cozy with Curtis.” 

Before you can respond, Holly scoffs behind her. “I’ve tried to warn her but she won’t fucking listen.”

You roll your eyes. You’re tired of hearing this. “I seriously don’t get what the big deal is. He’s nice and he tips well. It’s harmless!”

Kristi just gapes at you. “He’s nice?!”

Holly slams the drinks she was waiting for onto her tray. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “It’s her fucking funeral.”

You shake your head as you watch her go. It’s fine. You can take care of yourself.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. You don’t get much of a chance to talk to Curtis, but you feel his eyes on you before he disappears a little before closing.

At the end of the night, once you’ve helped clean up, you cash out with Colin and Jake and then go to find Lloyd in his office. You think it’s kind of ridiculous that you’re basically paying him to work there, but it is what it is. And Holly was right, you’re making so much that you barely even notice. 

Lloyd is sitting at his desk, looking a little more disheveled than you’re used to. He startles at your approach, which is also new. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, with slightly rounded eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You look at him, a little confused. “Just here with your cut,” you say as you hold out his money.

His hands immediately fly up to his chest, palms out. “No, no,” he says. “You made that fair and square. You just– you keep what you make from now on, Cupcake. Sound good?”

You swallow and nod, preparing yourself for whatever other price you’ll have to pay for keeping your job, mentally calculating what you’re willing to do. But Lloyd doesn’t do anything, doesn’t make any move to get closer to you. Just stays there at his desk, turning back to his work. “You have a good night,” he says, clearly dismissing you. 

You leave confused, but richer, telling yourself not to question it too hard.

Things go so smoothly for a few weeks that you’re a little shocked when the bubble bursts. 

It’s a relatively quiet weeknight. There are a few games going, but nothing compared to the weekend. The pace of the night feels leisurely. It’s nice.

It’s maybe the first night you haven’t seen Curtis there. It feels weird. He’s become such a part of this place for you. A fixture, like the bar or the carpet. Just one of the elements that make it what it is. But it’s fine. Of course, he doesn’t come every night. He probably has a whole life outside of this. He must’ve gotten bored of playing cards. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

You’re passing the time talking to one of the regulars at the bar, Vinny. He’s in his fifties, you think, with gray hair and laugh lines. He’d gone bust at the poker table (or maybe it was craps tonight) earlier and then had moved to the bar to drink away his sorrows and bad luck. That was how his nights tended to go.

He’s sitting on a barstool, his arm around your waist where you stand next to him. He’s a little close for comfort, but he’s always just been a friendly guy, so you’re alright. Which is why you’re so surprised when, in the middle of a story about the good old days of the Copa Cabana, his other hand suddenly finds its way between your thighs. You freeze. For just a second. Then you force out a laugh and try to push his hand away. “Bad boy,” you try to tease, your voice shaking. His hand will not move. What is happening? “Come on, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”

Instead of doing what you’ve asked, his thumb briefly brushes the inside of your leg and then his whole hand begins moving higher. You stop breathing. You push again but he won’t budge.

“You’re such a pretty doll, aren’tcha?” he says. 

Tears start to gather in your eyes. You look around wildly to see if anyone’s noticing what’s happening. Colin’s busy making drinks. Jake and Lloyd are talking by the door. Everyone else is engrossed in their own business. “Vinnie, stop, please,” you whisper. You don’t know why you can’t get your voice to work, can’t get your body to move.

“Come on,” he cajoles, “I’m being nice, aren’t I?” 

Then his thumb brushes against your panties and your entire body jolts into action. You wrench your leg out of his grasp and take several steps away from him. Your whole body is shaking now. “I gotta–” you start, trying to keep your tone casual and failing miserably. “I gotta get back to work, Vinny.” Then you grab your tray off the bartop and walk away as fast as you can.

You don’t really have a destination in mind. You pick up a few empties as you wander between tables. You can feel his eyes on you, following you. You try to take a deep breath, calm yourself down. It isn’t very helpful. You look up to see Jake by himself now. You make your way over to him, Holly’s words on your first night in your ears. That was out of hand, wasn’t it?

He looks up as you approach. His big golden retriever smile on his face. “Hey, what’s up?” Then he actually takes you in and his smile drops. “What happened?”

“Um, Vinny, he, uh–” You feel a few tears fall down your cheeks and you just shake your head.

Jake’s face darkens. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No, uh, he– he just–” You shake your head again. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. There’s something about the way he does it that makes you think he understands everything you just can’t say. He nods once. “Alright. I’ll take care of it. You go take your time in the back. Do what you need to do. He’ll be gone by the time you’re done.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay, thank you,” you say so quietly. Then you get yourself to the back room as quickly as you can.

It’s really more of a hallway than a room, small and narrow. All of the storage space for the building is in the legitimate bar upstairs. But there’s enough room for you to crouch down, your knees pulled up tight to your chin. You bury your face in your thighs and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re fine. 

You don’t know how long you’ve spent trying to calm yourself down when a large shadow suddenly looms over you. It takes you a moment to gather your strength to find out who it is. You hope it’s Jake telling you Vinny’s gone. You’re afraid it might be Lloyd, here to tell you to get back to work. There’s a slowly building terror that it might be Vinny himself.

After a deep breath, you look up to find Curtis staring down at you, concern on his face and fiery anger in his eyes. “What happened?” he growls.

You shake your head and turn away. He crouches down in front of you. “Are you alright?”

A humorless, uncontrolled laugh escapes you. Once you finally stop, you ignore his question and ask your own, “Why are you here?”

It takes him a very long time to answer. He just looks at you seriously for several moments. Then, finally, “Jake called me.” While you try to figure out why on earth Jake would do that, he continues, “I'm sorry I wasn’t already here.”

“Why?” you blurt out without thinking. 

He looks away without saying anything. You both just sit in the silence for a few moments. Then, you try to change tactics. “Where were you?” you ask out of morbid curiosity. You can't imagine what his life is like outside of here.

“Working,” he says curtly. He plays with a ring on his middle finger and the movement draws your eyes to his hands, specifically his knuckles. They're scraped and caked with dried blood. 

You swallow and you catch how his eyes track the movement. His eyes are always on you. He catches everything. 

“Someone touched you?”

“Lots of people touch me,” you say, flatly. “It's part of the job. You touch me.”

His eyes narrow at that. “But this was different.” It isn’t a question.

You look down at your hands in your lap and don't say anything. 

“Tell me who it was.”

“No,” you say instinctively, something about the moment feeling incredibly dangerous. 

He huffs in frustration. “Are you trying to protect him?”

“No!” you say, sharply. “I’m protecting myself.”

“You don’t have to do that. Not from me. Not ever.”

You don’t know how to tell him that every atom in you knows that that isn’t true. You can’t explain it, and it wasn’t until the moment he joined you in this little closet, but you’d swear that he’s a danger to you. You just can't articulate how, but you feel it in your bones. And still, here you stay.

At your silence, he grits out, “If you don’t tell me who it was, Jake will.”

Jake probably already has, that’s what you’ve figured. “Great,” you say. “Then you don’t need me to say it.”

“Bambi,” he lets out in an exasperated growl. “I'm trying to help you.” 

You just look at him and then figure you may as well ask the main question that's on your mind. “Why did Jake call you?” 

He ignores you and stands up. “Come on,” he says and extends his hand, “I'm taking you home.”

You just blink up at him. “My shift isn't over.” 

He shakes his hand at you impatiently. “It is now. Come on.”

You shake your head. “Curtis, this is my job. I can't just– Lloyd will–”

“I'll take care of Lloyd. Let’s go.”

You think about going home. About sitting alone in your small apartment. At least here you'll have something to do, things to focus on, to keep you busy. At home, there'll be nothing to think about other than that hand between your legs and– “No,” you say as firmly as you can manage. “I'm staying here. I'm finishing the night.”

His jaw ticks but he doesn’t say anything, just tries to stare you down. You stare right back. You will not concede this. 

Finally, he exhales through his nostrils, then growls out an unhappy “Fine. But I'll–” He's interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He takes it out and glances at the caller ID and sighs. “I have to take this.” He steps away as much as he can in the tiny area and answers with a curt “Everett.” There's a slight pause. “Yeah, I took care of it.” Another pause that has him glancing at you. “No, something else came up.”

You don't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. You take the opportunity to go back to the main room and get back to work. 

You don't see Curtis again that night. You don't spare much thought to where he might've gone. You're too focused on getting through the remainder of your shift. When it's done, Jake insists on seeing you home. You don't ask why. You already know who's behind it.

The next few days are fine. You try to put what happened behind you, doing your best to ignore it. But that becomes impossible when three days after the incident you watch Vinny walk in. You can’t help the little burst of panic you feel as you warily watch him sit down at his usual table and get dealt in. 

As subtly as you can, you make your way over to Jake. You don’t even say anything before he’s looking at you, chagrined. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I had to let him in. I promise it’s all going to be taken care of. It’s just– You can ignore him tonight, ok? Just trust me. You don’t need to worry about him. I promise.”

“Ok,” you say reluctantly, trying to resist looking back at Vinny. “I just– I didn’t think I’d have to see him again.”

“I really think that after tonight you won’t,” he says sincerely.

You don’t really understand what that means, but you nod anyway. “Ok,” you say. “I, uh, I should get back to work then.” 

He just nods after you, looking a little concerned and a little sad. But the room is filling up, so you don’t have time to delve into it.

Sometime later, as you’re taking a brief moment to idle by the bar, a strange hush descends over the room. You’re facing away from the door, away from the rest of the room, but you see Colin take in whatever it is that’s caused this. His face pales and he lets out a quiet, urgent, “Shit.” 

You turn around to see what on earth could be going on and you immediately freeze. Curtis is here. But that’s not what’s garnering all of this attention. Well, not all. Because he’s not alone, there’s a man with him. A little shorter, not quite as broad. But you’d be able to feel the power radiating off of him, even if you didn’t recognize him. Soft dark hair, thick beard, an immaculately tailored suit. You’ve seen him in the papers, on the news, but in real life, he’s even more intimidating. Andrew Barber.

Barber leans in close to say something to Curtis, who nods, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Your breath catches, but luckily Colin calls your name behind you and you have an excuse to turn around. He places two glasses of dark liquor on the bar. “Everett,” he says, gesturing to one, then “Barber,” while waving his hand over the other. “Got it?” You nod and place them on your tray. They’re identical to your eyes except for the fact that Barber's has a muddled black cherry at the bottom of the glass.

You carefully bring them over, trying to force yourself to breathe. Curtis intercepts you and grabs the drinks when you're a few steps away. “Thank you, Bambi,” he says, lowly. 

Barber perks up. “This is Bambi? Really?” He extends a hand and you have no choice but to take it. “Andy Barber,” he says with a disarming smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you finally.”

His handshake is firm, demanding. He is terrifying in his friendliness. And he knows who you are. Has known, for who knows how long. You glance at Curtis, but he's just calmly drinking his whiskey. You don't know what to say, what are you supposed to say?? So after too long a pause, you practically whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

He chuckles lightly as he takes back his hand. To Curtis, he says, “You're right, Bambi does suit her.” Then he turns back to you and adds, “Andy, please.”

“O– Okay, Andy,” you say, with what you desperately hope is a benign smile. You look over at Curtis, you’re not entirely sure why, but out of these two dangerous options, he, at least, is familiar. “I should get back to work.”

Curtis is staring at you, but it’s Andy who answers. “Mmm, and we have a game to join, don’t we?” Curtis nods but still doesn’t break his gaze. Andy smirks, “No rest for the wicked.”

You have no idea what to do with that sentiment, so you take the opportunity and get out of there. You walk through the tables, checking to see if anyone needs anything, but the mob boss’s physical presence seems to have ground all action to a halt. The room is collectively holding its breath. 

You go back to the bar for want of anything else to do. Colin is standing ramrod straight, coiled in case he needs to spring into action. Lloyd is sitting down at the end of the bar, drumming his fingers, eyes moving all around the room. You settle next to Holly, who looks just as scared as she did that first night when she was trying to warn you off of Curtis. “Is this,” you start to ask, your voice shaking. “Is this normal? Does he come here a lot?”

“No, never” she shakes her head. “Why would he come here? He has real clubs and restaurants. He doesn’t need to hang out in a shit hole like this.” She shakes her head again. “He’d only come here for a reason.”

You turn your head back to the room and find that Andy and Curtis have settled at Vinny’s table, joining his game across from him. Your heart lands in your throat. That can’t– No. You’re just some cocktail waitress. Even with Curtis’s obvious interest in you, you aren’t important enough to bring the most powerful man in the city here. You’re nothing. He must have other reasons.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop as everyone waits for something to happen, which is why when Andy does start speaking, you don’t have to strain your ears to pick up every word.

He looks at his cards carefully, then over at Vinny. “You know, Vinny, you’re a hard man to track down.” His voice is so calm, it sends a chill up your spine. “You don’t go home, we can’t find you at work. I was starting to get worried.” He runs a few chips through his fingers before tossing them into the center of the felt. “That’s why, when I heard you were showing up here, I sent my best man to investigate,” he nods towards Curtis, “just to make sure you were ok.” 

You don’t have a great view of Vinny from where you’re standing, but you can see how stiff he is, how silent. But he still calls when it’s his turn.

“You can imagine my relief when I found out you were alright. Except,” he raises again, a few more chips into the pot, “you’re losing a lot of money, aren’t you? Now, this upsets me. Not because you’re losing your own money. But because it’s mine, isn’t it?”

Vinny finally tries to pipe up. “Andy, hold on. I can ex–”

“You owe me $150,000, Vinny. With interest, that total’s climbing every day. And yet, you sit here and you just keep losing, don’t you? At my own game. What would you do if you won, huh? Would you really try paying me back with my own money? I thought maybe you’d at least have the smarts to cross the border and try this at one of Roger’s casinos. Huh? Paying me back with my enemy’s money, at least that I could respect. But no, it’s only me you think is stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. So now I’m here to give you the chance to fucking do it to my face.” With that, he violently pushes all of his chips into the center of the table. 

Everyone else has folded. It’s just Barber and Vinny now. You’re not sure Curtis even actually played. He’s just staring Vinny down, although occasionally his eyes will flick up and meet yours. You hate feeling like you’re a part of this, but you don’t know what else to do besides watch it play out.

Vinny is just spluttering, while Andy calmly looks on. It’s all the expected, cliche stuff you’ve seen in gangster movies. He’s got the money, he swears. He just needs a little more time. Andy has to know he’s good for it! You want to roll your eyes right along with Andy.

“Call, Vinny,” Andy cuts him off, sternly. “That’s $150,000 I just put in the pot. Call. And if you win, we’re even. Your debt’s erased. But if you lose, well then that’s $300,000 you’ll owe me. And you know I won’t be able to tolerate that. So call. And let’s find out where we stand.”

You can’t see what Vinny’s doing, but you can imagine the way his fingers must be hovering over his chips, his eyes moving down to his cards to check, one more time, if they’re as good or bad as he remembers. You know there’s no way out for him either way. He’ll have to call. He’s just delaying the inevitable.

You feel like you can't breathe as you wait for him to just finally do it, but Andy cuts in again. “The thing I can't understand, Vinny, is why you kept coming here after Curtis showed up. Either you're very stupid or really fucking greedy.” He looks at Vinny carefully. “Maybe a little of both. I hear you've been touching something that doesn't belong to you.”

You gasp. No one notices, but you do. He can't be talking about you. He can't. He can't. 

Vinny seems even more confused than you. “What are you talking about? I haven't touched anything!”

Andy continues to ignore him. “So you're stupid and greedy. That's why you aren't afraid of him like you should be. They call him my attack dog, did you know? Have you heard that? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you think he’s some puppy that follows me around. You’d be stupid to underestimate him, underestimate me. But maybe you only do that because you've never seen my dog off his leash.”

Curtis springs into action, lunging across the table to grab Vinny by the collar, and then slams his head into the felt. Before there’s even time to react, he’s stood and he's picking Vinny back up and hurling him onto the floor. Curtis comes around the table to stalk after him and the look on his face has you gasping for breath. You've never seen Curtis like this. There's a glint in his eye that might be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Who is this man? What is he capable of?

Vinny is dazedly trying to crawl away, but Curtis catches him easily. He grabs Vinny’s collar and hauls him back up, delivering two punches to his face in quick succession. The sound it makes. There's no other sound in the whole room. No one's saying anything, no one's doing anything. Everyone's just watching, hypnotized. You turn away, your stomach churning. Your eyes catch on Andy, sitting back in his chair, placidly drinking the whiskey you brought him, completely relaxed, like he's watching anything else. You can't look at him either. 

The room is completely silent except for the crunching of bones, Vinny’s whimpers, and Curtis’s grunts. You look up again to be startled by eye contact with Curtis. His eyes are wild, unhinged. Feral. But there's something else in it, like all of this is for you. That all of you are there, everything is happening, because Vinny dared to touch you. It takes your breath away. It’s mesmerizing.

Andy finally stands and strides over to where Curtis is holding Vinny up in the middle of the room. He looks down at Vinny, then spits in his face. “I'm tired of trying to draw blood from a stone,” he says. Then he turns to Curtis and finishes, “Get rid of him.”

Curtis gives you one last long look, his face unreadable. You feel it in your knees. Then he drags Vinny out, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

The moment they're gone, it's like the entire room can breathe again. “Lloyd,” Andy calls out. “How ‘bout a round for everyone? On me.”

Lloyd nods to Colin who hurriedly starts pouring drinks. And you, so grateful for something to do, instead of just standing there, shaking, start loading the glasses on your tray.

As you begin to pass them out, Andy of all people, pulls you aside. “Bambi,” he says quietly, “I hope you know now, we take care of our own.”

You gaze at him, shocked. It feels like a comfort and a threat. But why? It's not so much the implication that this all had something to do with you, but you can't for the life of you imagine what you've done to get yourself to a place where Andy Barber might consider you his, however distantly. It can't just be that you work here. You can't picture him doing something similar for Holly or Colin. Once again, this all feels so incredibly dangerous. 

While you're struggling to come up with anything to say to that, he grabs a drink off your tray and downs it quickly. Then, with a wink, he turns and leaves. You’re left staring after him until someone calls after you and you're scrambling to pass out drinks again. 

The night ends quickly. No one seems eager to stay and drink and play after everything that's happened. Not when there's still blood on the floor.

You do what you can to help clean up, but when you stare at the stain helplessly, Lloyd tells you not to worry about it. He's got a guy.

Colin walks out with you so you aren’t in the parking lot alone. You're grateful. You're still so shaken. As you approach your car, your beater that you still don’t quite have the money to replace, you see someone leaning against it. You stop short, looking to Colin for help, but he just keeps walking to his own car, his head down. That’s when you know it’s Curtis. 

You take a deep breath and then force yourself to keep walking towards him. You can't begin to parse how you feel to see him now. Your keys are ready in your hand like you might just get in and drive off without speaking to him. You know you won’t.

When you reach him, his voice is rough as he asks, “Are you ok?” He’s cleaned up. There’s no more blood on his hands, his clothes have been straightened.

You open your mouth to answer, even though you have no idea, so instead what comes out is “Did you kill him?”

“Did you want me to?” is his immediate reply.

It stops you in your tracks as all sorts of feelings come bubbling up, ones you can not, will not examine. This is about his propensity for violence, how terrifying he became, not– No. “Did you?” you insist. 

He looks at you carefully then shakes his head. “I don't think you actually want me to answer that.”

“But you've killed before?” You can't stop yourself from pressing, from pushing. You don’t know why. 

He just sort of smiles, gently almost, in a way that is deeply unsettling. “You need to stop asking questions you aren’t ready for me to answer, Bambi.” And it’s the way he says the nickname, like you really are that babe in the woods, just born with no knowledge of the world around you, that has your hackles rising.

“Andy called you his dog,” you say, like he should be offended.

To your surprise, he laughs, his head thrown back. Then he takes a step closer to you, and you take the opportunity to sneak in behind him, get to your car. You realize your mistake immediately when he turns back around and cages you in, your back pressed against the driver’s side door. “Everyone calls me his dog. Because he’s the civilized man in the designer suit, and I’m the animal just begging for a reason to slip my leash.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You should get into your car. You should drive away as fast as you can. You should never come back. But you don’t. “You did it for him,” you say, mustering all the strength into your voice that you can. “You didn’t do it for me.”

He leans over you, the space between you shrinking rapidly. “Yeah, he asked me to do it,” he nods. “But if he hadn’t, I still would have done it. For you.”

 You try to shake your head, to tell him that that can’t be true, even as a wild, loud part of you starts to rise up and claw out of your chest. You try to tamp it down, deny it, but before you can, Curtis is leaning in further, his whole body pressing against you, and then he covers your lips with his.  

There’s a heat that comes up out of him that fills you, the instant his skin touches yours. His hands are on you, your neck, your hip. You can’t keep track, can only say that his hands are there, everywhere, that his body touches all of yours, that his lips and his tongue are demanding, unrelenting. You are burning up from the inside.

Too soon, but ages later, he pulls away. His eyes are on fire as he looks at you. Then he tears his gaze away, and hits the roof of your decrepit car twice, looking at it disdainfully. “You get home safe,” he says, then steps back to allow you the space you need to get into your car.

You do what he wants you to do. You get in your car, sit in the driver’s seat, and then stare blankly out the windshield. You’ve never felt so out of control in your life. How did this happen? You were flirting for tips, that was all! You encouraged it for money, that was it, and now– You press your thighs together, trying not to pant. You will not be unmoored. 

A slight movement in your periphery makes you notice that Curtis is still standing just to the side of your car, watching you. You turn your keys in the ignition and shift into drive.

It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything, you chant to yourself all the way home.

It’s your next shift back, and everything seems to have changed. You don’t understand it. You keep doing laps of the room, keep sidling up to regulars you were so friendly with just a few nights ago, but now, they won’t even look at you, let alone touch you. No one’s ordering anything.

Or at least, they aren’t ordering from you.

Holly has been running around nonstop all night, basically having to take care of the entire room by herself. You watch man after man after man slip her little bundles of money. 

You want to scream. What the fuck happened? What did you do? What are you going to do?

You go to stand by the bar to wait for something you can do. Colin gives you a brief nod of acknowledgment but that’s it. He’s been cold, too. No. Not cold, distant. You don’t understand what’s changed.

You take a deep breath. It’s one weird night. Things will be better tomorrow.

Things don’t get better. The next night is the same. You’re starting to panic. This job was supposed to be your lifeline. Without it, without the money you were making, you’re not sure how you’ll survive.

Curtis comes in after a couple of hours of nothing. You could cry you’re so happy to see him. But terrified too. If he gives you the cold shoulder, this job really is over. But you have no idea how he’s going to act, not after what happened last time. You’re not sure how you’re going to act either. You can still feel his lips on yours.

You bring him his whiskey immediately and he greets you with an arm around your waist, pulling you in. “Hey Bambi,” he says quietly. Then he gets a good look at you. “What’s wrong?” 

You look at him carefully, not sure what to confide. You aren’t even sure what the problem is. You shake your head. “Not my best night,” you say with a tired smile. “But I’m fine.”

He stares at you for a moment, then stands up. “Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the little back room. You feel eyes on the two of you the whole way there.

Once he’s closed the door behind you both, he asks again, “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “The last two nights have been weird here. I don’t– I don’t know. I’m just worried. I don’t know what happened but I’m not making any tips. No one’s treating me like they used to.”

“Mmm,” Curtis hums thoughtfully. “I think,” he says as he takes two steps closer to you, which in this small space is significant, “everyone else here has figured it out.”

It’s suddenly a little hard to breathe with him standing over you like this. His presence, his attention is always so much. “Figured what out?” you ask, confused.

“That I have lost my patience for watching other men touch you.” 

It hits you like a freight train. “What?” It comes out in a whisper.

“I’ve let this go on for too long,” he says, his voice is calm, casual. “I don’t want you working here anymore. This is done.”

“I– What? Curtis. What?! I have to work! I have to pay my bills! I don’t understand. I don’t–”

He takes one last step forward. You feel the heat coming off of him. “Shh,” he soothes, cradling your cheek in his hand. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you. I take care of what’s mine.”

You pull your face away, even as the urge to nuzzle into him is so strong. You feel like you’ve missed something, a thousand things. You feel too many steps behind. “Curtis, I’m not– I’m not yours.”

Something comes into his eyes and you’re reminded of him standing over Vinny, covered in blood. His hand travels down from your cheek. He strokes your throat once, and then his hand closes around it. “Look me in the eye,” he growls, “and say that again.”

His hand is firm, snug, but it doesn’t tighten. But you can imagine so easily how it might. You look him in the eye. You open your mouth, ready to say it again. But then– then you see it. In the way he looks at you, the way he’s always looked at you. You feel it in his grip on you, now. You can’t deny it anymore. 

Curtis shoves you into his bedroom. You’re panting already. You need his hands on you, right now. You don’t have to ask for it. He gets you to the center of the room and yanks down your skirt, tearing it in the process. You step out of it and take your blouse off, throwing it on top of your skirt. Curtis’s eyes are cataloging your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out of your bra, your soft tummy, thick thighs. His gaze, as always, takes your breath away.

You reach out for Curtis’s shirt, but he grabs your hands. “I want you on your knees,” he growls and you immediately kneel for him. He throws off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his chest, the muted blacks and grays of his tattoos. You’re desperate to run your hands over them, trace the art, but instead, they just twitch at your side. He'll tell you what you're allowed to do.

He begins unbuttoning his jeans and your mouth drops open. He chuckles darkly. “Perfect little slut.” He takes his phone out of his back pocket and aims it at you, taking a picture as you gaze up at him under your lashes, your mouth wide open. “I've been dreaming of getting you on your knees for me.” He puts his phone on his dresser, then continues taking off his pants. “You ready to choke on my cock, baby?”

“Please,” you whine. You're practically salivating now. His bare thighs are as thick as tree trunks, the muscles corded. His abs ripple as he moves. His shoulders, his back. You want.

He frees his cock and rolls his black boxer briefs down his legs, stepping out of them. It's long and thick, just like the rest of him. Your breath catches. You don't think you've ever taken something that big before.

He takes a few steps so he's completely in your space, his cock bobbing right in front of your face. He takes it in one hand, the other firmly on the back of your head and slowly feeds the tip into your mouth. You taste his musk on your tongue. As he rocks into your mouth, going a little further each time, your hands come up to grasp his thighs. On his next thrust in, you run your tongue along the underside of his dick. His movements stutter just a little and then he looks down at you, a smirk overtaking his face. It's just a touch mean, in a way that has you soaking your panties. “You ready?” he asks, his voice rough. And then without waiting for the answer, he thrusts in all the way, making you take him deep in your throat.

You flail, slapping his thigh as you try to swallow around him, breathing frantically through your nose. After holding you there for a moment, he sets a brutal but steady pace. It takes you a moment, but you find your rhythm, your panic subsiding. Once you feel steady, you lift one hand from his thighs and bring it up to cradle his balls. “Fuck, Bambi,” he grinds out. “You're gonna– I– fuck!” His hand moves from the back of your head down to the back of your neck, which he grips firmly, pulling you off his cock. As you cough and splutter on the floor, he growls, “The first time you make me come is gonna be inside that perfect cunt.”

He helps you stand on wobbly legs, then shoves his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy over your panties. “Shit, fucking soaked just from deepthroating me?”

You let out a needy little whine, trying to push further into his hand, but he withdraws it, instead settling on your hip. “Well,” he grins, “if they’re ruined anyway…” then uses that hand to rip the black lace down the side, letting them fall to the floor. He makes quick work of your bra as well, then takes a step back and sighs, “Shit, Bambi, look at you.” It’s the reverence in his voice and on his face that has you launching yourself at him, unable to keep from kissing him any longer. He lets you, quickly taking control, letting you feel all his hunger, the want he’s kept barely bottled up since he first laid eyes on you. You understand it all now. His erection brushes against you, and now it’s his turn to whine, just a little. 

He pulls away, brushing a hand down your cheek, then says “Get on the bed, on your stomach.” You quickly comply, laying in the center of the bed with your knees pulled up and spread beneath you. He brings his hand down on one asscheek harshly and you can’t help the lewd moan that escapes you. He chuckles, “Oh, I will definitely remember that for later.” He grabs your hips and cants them up, then whistles at your exposed cunt. “I knew it. Absolutely beautiful.” Then he unceremoniously shoves two fingers into your hole and you choke on nothing. “Shh,” he coos. “You can take it. My cock’s gonna be a lot thicker.” 

As he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you can’t hold it in any longer and start babbling. Mostly a combination of “please,” and “Curtis,” and “I need,” over and over.

“I know, baby,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I’ve got what you need right here.” You have a brief moment to feel the tip of his cock on your pussy lips before he’s thrusting it into you, as far as he can go without making it hurt. 

“Oh my god,” you cry, pressing your forehead into the mattress and balling his dark blue sheets in your hands. You feel so full. It’s so good. He’s working himself into you as quickly as he can, desperate now. You both are. Once he bottoms out, fully seated in you, he pauses. Then with one hand on your stomach and the other around your neck, he pulls you up onto your knees, your back flush to his chest. You cry out at the new angle; he’s somehow even deeper now. He starts thrusting up into you at a punishing pace. You’re bouncing up and down in his firm grasp. The hand on your neck turns your head to face him, his lips brushing against yours. He holds eye contact with you as the hand on your stomach snakes down your pelvis so his thick fingers can begin circling your clit. “Fuck! Curtis, please!” you shout. 

“Yeah, come on,” he breathes, “you can let go. You can do it. Come for me like a good girl.” It’s those words that send you careening over the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock, squeezing him until he’s coming too with a grunt, filling you up until both your cum is leaking out around him. 

He holds you there, on your knees, as you both come down, your twin pants all you can hear.

You wake up slowly, the sun shining on you through the soft drapes. You start to shift then groan at how stiff you are. The night before comes back to you. Curtis took you two more times before you both collapsed in satisfied exhaustion. He’s still out like a light beneath you. 

You take a moment to look at him. It’s odd to see him so peaceful, so still. There’s nothing of the feral predator he projects to the world. It makes you feel oddly close to him, seeing him like this.

You carefully get up without disturbing him and begin collecting your clothes. You put on your bra, but there’s no saving your panties. Same for your skirt; it’s ripped along the seam. So instead you pick up Curtis’s t-shirt from last night and put it on. It smells like him. You breathe it in shamelessly knowing there’s no one to witness it.

You savor the soreness as you move out of the bedroom. It’s like you can still feel him inside you, how much he wanted you, needed you. It makes you feel a little powerful, having that effect on a man like him.

You make your way into his living room. You didn’t really have a chance to look at his house last night, as determined as he was to get you into the bedroom. If you’d ever thought to picture it, this wouldn’t be far off. It’s all rich blues and greens and grays, leather and dark wood. Masculine. It suits him. 

As you’re admiring the room, you hear footsteps behind you and then two big arms are encircling your waist, pulling you into him. “Good morning,” he rasps. 

You turn your head to him. “Good morning,” you say with a smile.

“Fuck, Bambi, you’re even hotter in my shirt than you were last night.”

You smirk at him even as your face heats. “Mmm,” you hum. “It’s comfy. You might not get it back.” He nuzzles into your neck as you continue. “I was hoping you might have something I could wear for bottoms, too. You destroyed my skirt.”

His beard roughly drags against your skin as he asks, “Why the hell would I let you wear bottoms?”

You laugh. “Because I have to leave the house, Curtis.”

“No, you don’t,” he says as his hand begins to move between your thighs.

You playfully swat him away, even as you feel yourself getting wet again from his attention. “I have to go home.”

“Why? You’re staying here.” It’s how certain he sounds that has you turning around in his arms.

“What?”

“I don’t like your building. It isn’t safe enough. Now that I finally have you, of course, I’m going to keep you here with me.”

Once again, you feel too many steps behind. You just blink at him, confused. How does he even know where you live??

He takes your chin in his hand, his fingers gentle. “I told you, Bambi, I take care of what’s mine.”

Tag list

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @midnightramyeoncravings

[earthchica]

never lose me

terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: you and terry have had an on-and-off friends-with-benefits situation, but perhaps that's about to change.

warning: explicit smut (18+), fluff, unprotected rough morning sex, dirty talking, fwb, choking kink, mention of fear and rejection, slight daddy kink, foreplay, oral (m), pet names (baby girl, baby, etc.)

note: my first fanfic on one of aaron pierre's character! I watched rebel ridge then binge-watching all the stuff he was and fell in love. He is absolutely fine and adorable.

{ part two }

-

You woke up to the gentle morning sunbeams sneaking past the veil of curtains. Your eyes scan the room, attempting to determine your location.

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist, and you felt something firm against your ass. Glancing over, you noticed terry peacefully snoring with his mouth slightly ajar.

A smile crept onto your face as you recalled your surroundings. Recollections of the previous night flooded your mind, and you told yourself this would never happen again but it did.

You and Terry met during your time in the Marines. You both instantly clicked, finding you both had a lot in common and became inseparable.

Throughout the ups and downs, you have consistently been each other's pillars of support, standing by one another through every breakup, every headache, and every dark moment.

People often questioned if you two were in a relationship or hinted you would make a great couple, but you couldn't comprehend their perspective at first.

Until you started getting feelings for him but soon after, you realize that the connection was purely platonic.

And because of that you tried to end this thing multiple times but Terry just knew how to pull you back in.

You sighed sofly, an idea formed in your mind. You slip out of his hold, moving down to his legs and gently pushing the blankets aside.

The sight of his big, long dick made your mouth water; just staring at it filled you with excitement and warmth.

You leaned in, gently touched the top of his dick, increased your pace slightly, and eagerly anticipated his response.

"............" He softly murmurs your nickname, groggily opening his eyes.

A look of delight spreads across his face as he sees you positioned between his legs, prepared to pleasure him.

A few more gentle touches at the tip before enveloping his shaft in your mouth, then started moving your head up and down.

Terry lets out a loud moan and firmly grasps your curly hair. His deep and alluring moans ignited a strong sensation deep within you.

You looked up at his face and noticed his eyes filled with desire. You moved your mouth away with a wet sound and coated his dick with your saliva.

"Oh, fuck. Y-you gotta stop…baby girl" Terry says in a low voice as he brushes your untidy, curly hair away from your face.

Before you could speak.

Terry lifted you and flipped you onto your back. He began leaving a trail of kisses along your neck, while gently running the tip of his dick up and down your pussy.

You lean into him, craving his touch as you long for him to be inside you; the teasing has become unbearable.

Terry also couldn't resist; he thrust deep inside, filling and stretching you.

Fuck...you loved how big he was, and how it always felt like you were about to be split in half.

This sensation was what you always desired and yearned for. He started to move back and forth inside you gently.

Stroking your cheeks with his hands before increasing the speed and pressing his forehead against mine.

"Terry, rougher please!" You whispered as you gazed into his passionate eyes.

You drew him into a kiss while raising your leg slightly to stimulate your inner self.

"You love getting fucked rough huh, baby?" He inquired, drew back from the kiss, gently wrapping his hand on your neck.

"Yes Ahh, Terry yes!!" You moaned, digging your nails into his arm as his thrusts quickened desperately.

You could feel your legs tightening up.

With immense strength, you swiftly flipped him onto his back and linked your hands with his, moving up and down his body.

"Oh...take a little control...I see?" He smirked, and you nodded sensing your grip tighten around him, causing a pulsating sensation deep inside you.

Terry releases one of your hands and firmly grasps your waist. Aligning his movements with the rhythm, elicited a loud moan from you.

You savored each moment as he thrust up inside your wet, dripping pussy.

You felt your eyes roll in the back of your head, feeling yourself already close to the edge.

Terry let go your hand before placed both his hands on your hips, pounding up into you.

You gasped, gripping his shoulder before throwing your head with a cry of moan.

"That's fucking right. Take that fucking dick, You loves daddy's dick Right?" He asked.

"Yes, oh fuck I love daddy's dick. I'm-I'm gonna cum can I cum, Daddy!" You cried in pleasure, feeling yourself about to release.

"Cum, baby girl. Cum for me!" He demanded, and you obeyed, shouting his name, as you felt a powerful wave of release surge through you sharply.

Terry flips you on your stomach, face down and ass up. He fucks you through your high, desperately chasing his release.

"Fucking so good, baby. The best pussy I've ever had" Terry says, gripping your hips tightly, pounding into you faster than before.

You felt another orgasm coming along and it felt too much for you, so you tried to move away.

"Ahh...no fucking run...take this fucking dick, like a good girl" Terry groans, smacking your ass.

"TERRY!" You cried, feeling yourself getting close to the edge. He brought you up, wrapping his hand around your throat while kissing your neck.

In a matter of seconds…you both came togather, it was so intense and sensual.

Terry winced a little, coming inside of you. You both dropped immediately down into the pillows, trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck" He cursed, pulling out before lying down beside you on his back.

"Damn, girl you're gonna be the fucking death of me," Terry remarked with a contented sigh as you gazed over at him with weary eyes, nodding in approval.

-

"I know we've been on and off with this, but I think we should definitely continue it," you declared as you emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your body.

Terry appeared slightly disappointed but swiftly adjusted his expression as he pulled his pants back on.

"Hey, you good?" You asked, moving to sit next to him on the bed. Your voice filled with concern as you leaned in, waiting for his response.

"What if we...you know, um...shit," he says, struggling to get the words out, leaving you utterly confused.

"Terry, what are you trying to say?" you pressed, as you placed your hand on his leg, locking eyes with him.

"I want to take you out on a date, I'm done with this on-and-off shit. I want something serious with you" He says with those pretty eyes.

You were taking back, you would never believed this would happen but you were glad.

You suddenly realized that not a single word had left your lips as you stared at him, leaving him with an embarrassed expression.

"Forget I fucking said anything," he murmured, rising from the bed to slip into his shirt before making his exit.

You acted quickly, stepping in front of him to block his exit. You met his gaze with a soft smile and firmly placed your hand on his chest.

"Terry, I've been waiting to hear that for so long? Do you truly want something more?" You asked, pursuing assurance.

His touch tenderly caressed your face, prompting you to close your eyes and revel in the exquisite sensation.

"Of course...I do..baby. You've always been someone I can rely on, be myself with, and I guess fear and rejection played a big part in me not confessing to you" He says.

"I would've never rejected you. I-I love you Terry...and I've always wanted more with you but I guess I was afraid too" You confessed.

His eyes widened in disbelief at the three little words. You couldn't help but smile at his stunned reaction.

"Say that again?" he murmured, enveloping you in his embrace, yearning to caress your neck with his lips.

You giggled, whispering, "I love you, Terry Richmond. I've always had and I always will"

He drew you in for a kiss, and this one was unlike any other you both had shared.

This was pure love and sweetness. You enveloped him in your arms, savoring the kiss.

"I love you too," he said, pulling away from the kiss and brushing a few strands of curls out of your face.

"Is that so?" you inquired with a gentle smile. Terry chuckled and tenderly swept you into his arms, eliciting joyful giggles from you.

"I do... I've always felt this way, and I always will. I'm in love with you...so can I take you on a date?" "Terry asked, flashing his charming smile."

"I would love to go on a date with you, Terry," you declared with a smile, and he joyfully spun you around, both of you bursting into laughter.

[charliemwrites]

Okay so the poll results were for an OC captain, though it was close enough that I still hesitate to name him in the canon of the fic.

I’m also going to be taking my time fleshing out his character because it’s been a while since I made an OC. So please be patient while I add tidbits here and there to build his character.

Content: safe/sane/consensual sex, descriptions of scars, mentions of past torture

Nikto beats you and Nova twice out of three rounds — but that’s no surprise. The man moves like a machine. Even against two opponents he controls the battlefield like a chess master. Neither you nor Nova take it to heart, especially since he always gives you both advice at the end, helping you to improve.

He’s a great partner, a great teammate; you’re sure to show him your appreciation after sparring with a kiss to his nose-plate. His hands spasm on yours as he helps you unwind your wraps, gloved thumb sweeping over your bare palm.

“You did good today,” he says, voice rough and accent thick. He must be pissed about earlier still, when Ghost and Soap threw your matches with them.

“So did you,” you reply, squeezing his hand in return.

“Stay with me tonight?” He asks.

You damn near melt. Nikto has an open invitation to your room, but his is a sacred place, only for him unless otherwise specified. That he’s asking you to come to his tonight…

“Absolutely,” you reply, squeezing his hand. “I just need to see the captain first. Okay?”

He grunts in understanding, eyes flicking to the door the 141 left through earlier. He mutters something in Russian — some insult about goats and mothers you think.

“Yeah, exactly,” you reply, voice dropping with simmering irritation.

A good spar with him and Nova has helped ground you a bit, but it hasn’t helped the anger. You don’t spar any of your team with anger; they don’t deserve.

Luckily, you and your captain worked something out a while ago when you’re feeling a bit… aggressive.

“Cap?” You call, still holding Nikto’s hand. “Could I stop by for a nightcap later?”

His eyes flash, a sinful twist to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, babygirl. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Over his shoulder, you see Nova arch her eyebrows and Keegan grin wicked into his water bottle. Gossip fiends.

“Showers. Now,” the cap says, slapping them both on the ass. “Double time. I need to have a word with Price still.”

—

Long after the sun has gone down, you’re standing outside your captain’s door. Take a breath. Remind yourself of your mantra. He wants you, always will, and he’s going to take care of you.

Then loosen your shoulders, unboxing all the frustration and aggression you set aside earlier. Feel it burn through you, make your hands twitch in and out of fists.

One more inhale, and then you shove the door open.

“There you are,” he rumbles. “C’mere.”

You flash your teeth, “No.”

He tilts head back and forth, cracking his neck. “Alright then.”

There’s no real fight. You’re not looking to get away or actually hurt him. And he’s not looking to actually make you submit. That’s not the point of this game.

He strides across the room and shoves you back, pins your shoulder to the wall. You grip at his forearm, nails scraping, and squirming as the hot, hard length of his body squishes you flat.

“Settle,” he orders.

“Fuck you,” you snarl back, nipping his lip.

He growls, tangling a hand in your hair and tipping your head back. Leaves a searing trail of kisses down your throat, bites a bruise into your collarbone. You wriggle and fuss all the while, safely held still and supported by his hands and body.

“Brat,” he rasps in your ear.

“I’m not,” you snap.

“Oh, yes you are, babygirl,” he replies, a mean smirk on his flushed face. “But that’s alright, I like you bad.”

He pulls you from the wall, bullies you onto the bed. You try to grab at him, get him under you. He doesn’t indulge like he normally would. Pins you on your back so that you can keep fighting, yanking at your wrists in his firm grip, pushing your hips up to grind into his as if trying to flip you both.

He slots his hips between your thighs, positions just his knees under your ass so that your back is arched, shoulders on the mattress. Limits your mobility, but that doesn’t stop you from kicking at air, making half-angry, half-desperate noises in the back of your throat.

“Gonna say please like a good girl?” He teases.

“No,” you hiss back.

He has the audacity to chuckle, which just riles you up more. (It’s supposed to). You curse as he works a hand beneath your shirt, palms at your bare breasts and pinches your nipples until they ache. You gasp like a pornstar, surprised and turned on.

“Pretty noise,” he coos. “Do it again.”

When he twists, you mewl, face immediately burning up as you renew your “efforts” to get away. All it does is make the treatment rougher than if you just laid still and took it, but that’s what you want, what feels good. A little edge to the pleasure as adrenaline and energy electrify you from head to toe.

He grinds against you, cotton of your loose shorts sticking against your soaked cunt. Christ you were turned on before you even barged in. Now you’re fucking throbbing for it.

“Gimme,” you grit out, rocking against him. Gears successfully shifted from physically taking control to just ordering him around.

“Give you what, brat?” He goads, slapping your pussy. The thin fabric muffles the sting, but it sends a white-hot ache through you that makes your eyes roll. “My cock? You think you deserve it?”

Another slap. You cry out, notice the sly look on his face when he notices that you’ve soaked through your shorts.

“Yes,” you reply, all confidence and reckless arrogance.

He yanks his underwear down to mid thigh, thick cock springing up to smack lewdly against his toned stomach. Precum smears over the pale scars there, sticks in the trail of groomed hair there.

“Yeah?” He growls. “Alright then.”

He yanks the crotch of your shorts aside (you hear stitches pop) and then he’s plunging into you. It’s too much all at once and you cry as much, knees squeezing around his tattooed ribs.

“Fuck.” His voice is shredded, so rough and low you feel it more than hear it. He lets your wrists go to grip at your ass, grinding deeper. Can feel the fat head of his cock bullying at your cervix, his favorite passtime while you adjust to the thick base of him.

“How does that feel, babygirl?” He murmurs in your ear. “You needed daddy’s cock, huh? Needed it to set you right again?”

You whimper out a curse at him, gripping at his biceps. He croons mockingly, thumb slipping between your bodies to press at your clit. Not rubbing or grinding, but just pressing. Just the right amount to make you sweat and pant, start trying to squirm to get any friction at all.

He lets you — could stop you if he wanted, or pull away entirely — but he likes winding you up like this. Likes seeing all that vicious energy turned to seeking pleasure from him.

“Fucking move,” you try to snarl, but your voice breaks midway through and comes out more pleading than you’d like.

“What was that, babydoll? Are you talking to me?” He teases, rolling his hips.

Your mouth falls open, a moan ripping from your chest, deep and needy.

“Daddy, move,” you cry, voice going up in pitch.

“There’s my brat.”

He pushes one of your knees up against your chest and slams into you. You scream and he doesn’t even try to cover your mouth, whispering filth as he tilts your hips for the best angle with his other hand. Fucks into you deep and rough, grinning at the obscenely wet noises every time he plunges into you.

Can practically feel him fucking your cervix open to get just that little bit deeper. Licks his lips when he sees the little bump in your stomach. You give as good as you get, squeezing down tight, bouncing to meet him, nails scoring lines down his back and shoulders.

“Gonna ask daddy to make you cum?” He goads.

“Earn it,” you reply.

He laughs and pulls out, flips you onto your stomach while you’re still dizzy with emptiness. Hikes your hips up and sinks into you like coming home. Your knees almost give out but that’s fine by him, he’s plenty strong enough to hold you up all on his own, using you like a noisy little toy for his own benefit.

“Fuuuuck,” you whine, feeling overwhelmed, pleasured tears gathering in your eyes. Then, in a whisper, “Daddy…”

“Feel like being good yet?” He asks. A large, rough hand circles that back of your neck and pins you face down to the mattress.

“N-no,” you whine, fight gone out of you now that you’re getting exactly what you want.

Fuck it feels so, so good. Every inch bullying you wide open and loose, so wet you’re dripping down your own thighs, wetting his ball as they slap against you. You feel split open and pinned, unable to do anything but take it, tortured stupid on ecstasy. He licks a stripe up your back before pressing you down prone, ankles locked around yours to keep you open and accessible.

“S’alright, doll, don’t need to be good to be mine.”

He’s barely pulling out halfway before ramming home now. You can barely get a breath in, the weight of him pressing whatever resistance was left right out of you.

“Daddy, daddy,” you sob. “Fuck, I wan’ it.”

“Want it, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you moan, pressing your face into your arms. Cant your hips just that little bit to get him abusing that bundle of nerves.

“Oh, right there, huh?” He coos. “Did daddy find your little sweet spot?”

A series of short, ruthless thrusts right there, making incoherent, desperate noises fall from your mouth. Before you realize it, he’s wedged a hand beneath your hips and has two fingers toying with your poor, neglected clit.

“‘M gonna… f-fuck, fuck,” you whine, writhing (or at least trying to) against him. Not sure if you’re trying to urge him on or get away. Doesn’t matter, he’s in charge, has been since the beginning. “Daddy, I wanna…”

“Whenever you want, babygirl,” he replies, voice going all warm and gooey. Your chest hitches. “Squeeze around me nice and tight. Let me feel you cum on my cock.”

Didn’t realize that was what you needed, but you fucking scream as you clench down around him, stars bursting behind your closed eyes. He fucks you through it, tapping against your g-spot again and again until you dissolve into a weak, wet whimpers.

“Daddyyyy,” you whine.

And that sets him off, flooding you with heat. He loses control for a second as his hips jerk, pounding brutally into your oversensitive, swollen pussy. Makes a few tears finally slip down, soaking into the sheets along with your drool. The sound of him groaning as he cums makes you spasm around him again, a little aftershock that milks the last of his release.

“That’s it, easy,” he groans, brushing kisses over your trembling shoulders. “Easy, doll.”

He lies over you for a few minutes, letting you feel him there. Right there with you. Breathing and recovering, holding you through the endorphin rush. When you squirm a bit, he eases off you, cock slipping out. You shiver at the feeling of his cum trickling out of you, glassy eyes fluttering.

“C’mere,” he soothes, tugging you in. Lying on his side, he hitches one of your thighs up over his hip, tucks your arms between your chests and rests his stubbly chin on your temple. You splay your fingers over his peck, over the bold, dark symbol for SpecGru. Feel his heart settling back into rhythm and sigh, snuggling in.

The hormone drop is a monster on your emotions, often leaves you shivery and lonely, a little sick in your own body. First time you did this with him ended in tears, expecting him to get up and leave. He didn’t, never has, but you both learned that as much physical contact as possible in the aftermath eases the comedown away from a total crash.

“You did so well, babygirl,” he whispers, leaving kisses everywhere he can reach without dislodging you. “Such a good girl. Even if you think you’re being bad.”

You flush, hide your face against his neck. He chuckles, honeybalm on your soul. Can feel his hand start to move, then pause as he remembers that you can’t handle that stimulation right after sex. So he just squeezes, slow and gentle, helps get you back in your body.

“I still want you,” he assures, echoing your mantra back at you. “Always will. You’re mine.”

You outline a heart shape onto his forearm, not quite able to speak yet. He recognize the feeling though and gently guides your face up to place a slow, gentle kiss to your lips.

“Love you, too, babygirl. Ready to clean up?”

You nod. He eases you up, lets you cling onto his hand as he walks you to the en suite. Fills you a glass of cool water to sip on while he gets the shower running. Turns his back while you use the restroom and wash your hands, then guides you into the hot water.

You lean into him, near boneless, as he washes you, calloused palms with soap instead of a cloth. Then sits still, hands on your hips, while you return the favor. This part is one of the most important for you, getting to freely return touch.

(Simon hardly ever let you touch, especially in the aftermath. Sure, you could scratch and grip at him during sex, but during foreplay it was all part of his dom persona that you couldn’t just touch at will. And afterwards… well. It’s not like he didn’t do aftercare. He did! But the almost formulaic warm cloth wipe down, glass of water, doze for a bit before he left was not… not ideal. Not like this.)

Your captain hums, eyes half-lidded but trained on you, while you smooth your palms over the firms planes of his muscles. Fingers tracing over tattoos and scars. Squishing and patting at the healthy layer of tissue over his stomach and thighs. Lets you nuzzle and kiss his soft cock, even though it makes his fingers twitch with oversensitivity.

Squeezes when you lace fingers together to stretch his arm out, inspecting the lines your nails carved into him.

“M’okay, baby,” he says before you can ask. “Feels good.”

You similarly assure him over the bruises on your wrists and hips, smiling and leaning up to kiss his jaw.

When the shower is over, he dries you off, playfully ruffling your hair just to kiss the pout off your lips. He dresses you in one of his shirts and a spare pair of your own joggers, found in his duffel.

You sit with him for a while longer still, enjoying how he lets himself relax once he knows you’re taken care of. He lies with his head on your chest, your fingers fluffing his hair, while the two of you watch an episode of some stupid show Keegan got the rest of the team into.

Only when it’s over does he ask if you’re ready to go to Nikto’s. If you wanted to stay, you could. Nikto would understand. But you’re looking forward to a night with your quiet Russian while the other three have a little movie night.

At the door, you kiss your captain goodnight. Hug and kiss Keegan and Nova as you pass them in the hall headed to his room. Nova makes a point of kissing one of the bruises on your wrist, while Keegan whispers that he loves you.

You pad to the first door in the hall, where Nikto has stationed himself as the team guard dog. You tap gently at the door, a pre-determined pattern to let him know who it is.

The door cracks open, one startling blue eye peering from the darkness.

“Evening, Nik,” you coo.

A hand reaches out and gently yanks you inside. And then next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in thick arms devoid of any usual covering. You feel smothered, in a good way.

“Love,” he rasps in Russian into your hair.

You hum in return. Place your palms flat on his abdomen. The muscles clench, you pause as you realize his abs, impressive as they are, feel too defined. He needs water. Taking mental note, you draw your hands carefully around, feeling the raised bumps of wicked scars. Make sure he can track exactly where and how you’re touching until your arms are wrapped around him in a return hug.

“Smell good,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” You giggle. “Showered just for you.”

He snorts, then scoops you up. You make a delighted noise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you across the room. Of course his navigation is impeccable, even in pitch black. He lays you down on the bed, but before he can crawl up with you, you place a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re dehydrated.”

He makes an annoyed noise, sounds like he’s about to protest. You shush him with a quick peck to his chest.

“Get a glass please? I could use some water myself.”

Which has him instantly moving. You politely turn away as the bathroom light flicks on, the water runs. Can hear him chug two entire glasses before he fills it one final time. The light turns off again. The bed dips as he returns, presses the cool edge gently to your cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmur, sipping about a quarter of it to appease him before he sets aside for you on a bedside table.

And then he gets what he really wants, stripping you down and tucking you in like a nesting bird. Practically on top of you while you’re still reeling from how much skin you can feel. Even during intimacy, he tends to stay clothed or mostly clothed. But right now all you can feel is a pair of underwear against your bare ass. Everywhere else it’s miles of warm skin, uncovered muscle and texture of scars.

“This is nice,” you coo. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

You wiggle around until you’re chest to chest. Start with his hands. Kiss each smooth fingertip, prints flayed off. Then his palms, the divots from nails driving through. Flip them over to kiss his scarred knuckles, smile at the way he twitches, flexing them outward like he’s trying not to close his hand.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Yes.”

You kiss his wrists, his forearms, to his collarbone. You’ve peeked a blue-black tattoo there before. Stars and the start of something that might be religious. Spend a little extra time there, tongue peeking out. He shifts; you take it as a sign of discomfort and move on.

“Here next,” he says when you dip to go to his chest.

He guides your face up his neck, where you press long (but chaste) kisses until you bump his jaw. And realize that’s all skin too.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Can I…?”

“Yes.”

You feather your lips along his fresh-shaved jaw, the nicked scars on his chin. Then up, ignoring the wicked scar along his cheek. Breathe against his temple, feeling dizzy with the trust he’s showing you.

“I love you,” you whisper, continuing along to his nose, twice broken and poorly set each time. A line over one nostril where a piercing was ripped out. He makes a noise in his throat, think he might be having trouble speaking again. Don’t mind.

He lets you get down to his mouth, where a particularly twisted scar warps part of his upper lip away from his teeth. You think that if you saw it in the light, his canine would be visible. His lower lip is uneven too, like a misaligned seam.

You don’t pay any special attention to any of it, focused more on reacquainting yourself with how your mouth fits with his. He doesn’t lead, doesn’t rush or pull or press. But there’s tension all along his body, everywhere you touch. You don’t ask for more than a chaste kiss, and when you pull away, you tilt your forehead gently against his.

“Still okay?” You ask.

“Still okay.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 2: Free Use

Beefy!Mean!Gross!Pervert!Roommate!Bucky x Agent!Fem!Reader

Summary: Being used by your awful roommate because you owe it to him.

Warnings: 18+ smut, dirty talk, degradation kink, rough unprotected p in v, creampie, bucky puts his foot on reader’s head

You hate him. With every fiber of your being. In every sense, of meaning and of every syllable of the word—you hate James Buchanan Barnes.

You thought you’d done right by offering to take in the former winter soldier, wanting to apologize on behalf of your late great-grandfather for his involvement in the HYDRA experiments. Bucky was clearly down on his luck still searching for purpose and feeling undeserving of his peers assistance.

That’s when you’d came along. A friend of Steve Rogers who just so happened to be a direct descendant of a evil HYDRA scientist. You humbly confessed this tragic secret, suggesting to Steve that you’d gladly be the closure Bucky needed to feel okay again. Hell, you’d do anything to help him long as it meant saving your own morality and pushing away whatever labels the public has placed on you.

And you could tell yourself everyday that it’s for the greater good and that he’ll repay you someday when he amounts to the superhero he’s building himself to be.

BUT…

When you come to a home that is beyond a pig-sty after a long day’s work then having to clean up said mess and also cook DINNER…well that just about makes you want to plan a murder.

He knows what he’s doing. Clearly, he wants to get a rise at you either to make you pay for your great-grandfather’s crimes or to slowly break you until you become just as wicked. But you’ve yet to buckle under his pressure. Whenever he treats you like scum, you turn the other cheek.

So, of course, here you are cleaning yet another one of Bucky’s preventable messes. You’re on your hands and knees furiously scrubbing away at the linoleum tiles until you can see your own reflection. Meanwhile, he’s just sitting on the coach in nothing but white undershirt and boxers mindlessly flipping through the television.

You’re scrubbing near his feet and just when you think he’s being kind enough to raise them out of the way, he rests them on your ass.

You seethe, teeth grinding but continue with no protest. You desperately try to ignore him but his heated gaze on your ass is so distracting.

“Think you could make me a sandwich when you’re done with that, dollface?” He says, bored.

You feign a saccharinely sweet tone and smile. “Of, course, Bucky! Whatever you wish.”

“Whatever I wish.” He says, voice lowering a couple octaves.

“That’s what I said,” You said through gritted teeth, your innocent act weening. You bat your eyelashes dearly up at him from behind you. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“So if I said I want some pussy, you’d give it up to me willingly,” He rasps. “Whenever I want.”

That’s odd. Bucky has never made things sexual. Not that you haven’t thought of this yourself the first time you offered to help him. Sure, you always thought he was quite handsome and that hulking body of his pouncing you has been a thought more times than you can count. But steadily you’re fury for him began to develop once he’d made you out to be like his little servant rather than a friend.

And yet…why is it that you find yourself soaking wet whenever he treats you this way even though it’s absolutely repulsive?!

“Yes, Bucky, you can have me. Whenever you want.” You reply.

“And you mean it?” He says, lowering on his knees behind you and shoving his boxer down his thick thighs.

Your eyes bug out of your head in horror at the sheer size of him. The girth, the length—this was going to be brutal. He’s leaking from the ruddy tip and looks so angry with the throbbing veins branched out around it like a tree. You swallow the hard lump in your throat, wordlessly nodding before answering. “Yes, I mean it, sir.”

Bucky groans deeply, shoving your head down with his foot. He puts enough pressure against the side of your face to where the other side of it smushes up against the sparkling floor. Before you can even register it, he’s flipping your dress up, pulling your panties to the side, and sinking in with some resistance.

You release a choked sob. “F-uck.”

“You’re so tight, princess,” He moans, biting his lip as he continues to bully his way into you. After some back and forth, your walls latched around him like a vice, reaching all the way to hilt. The small pudge of his belly rests just above your ass as he awaits you to fully adjust.

Your still in the awkward position with you ass up, face down and his foot pressed against your head to keep you from squirming away. Like hell you would. Something must’ve finally snapped within you because even if it hurts, even if you were being used—you’ll happily take it. You fucking surrender and it only to some dick for Bucky to own you.

He starts hammering into you, the sound of this skin clapping together take over the room with your guttural moans soon to follow. Bucky’s quiet at first with his moans which quickly turns to whines when he feels you dripping down his heavy balls.

“So that was all it took? I just had to claim you and now you’ll stop that fake good girl shit. Huh, babygirl? Bet you don’t hate me as much now.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” You mewl. “Love being used by you. Just please don’t fucking stop, Buck!”

He’s hitting so deep inside you now that it’s as if he’s found a rebooting button within you. Your eyes roll back, drool streaming from your lips and your mind’s completely black. All you can do now is make throaty “uh, uh, uh” noises as you get pushed to the brink of bliss.

“When I ask you to do something, I won’t be seeing any of that negative attitude, will I?” He continues to taunt using a firm parental tone. His mechanical arm sneaks its way between your legs, skillful fingers toying with your puffy clit.

You yelp, tears mingling with the sudsy water beneath you. “No, sir. I’ll be good. Forreal this time. I’ll do whatever you want, for as long as you want. Let me cum. Pretty please, sir.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” He smacks your ass with his flesh hand at the same time as a really forceful plunge. “Cum.”

You whine so loud that there’s no doubt a neighbor will be filing a complaint for you. You’re small frame wriggles beneath his large stature as you cum so hard that you understand the meaning of why an orgasm’s called ‘a little death’. You pant against him as he contiues to hammer into you, forcing your juices out of you in a gush.

In final punishing thrusts, he cums hot and sticky inside you much to your chagrin—or so you claim until you noticed the way your hands reached for him from behind, taking fistfuls of the fabric of his boxers that pooled around his knees; you keep him locked in place within you. And you don’t let you go until you’re satisfied that every drop has been milked out of him, clenching around him for added measures.

“Fuck, babygirl,” He growls at this action giving you a few more languid thrusts before pulling out and watching his hot spunk spilling out of you. He pushes his metal finger into you, stuffing you with the escaping essence. “Phew, that worked me up a mean appetite. Think you could make me two sandwiches, hot stuff.”

You remain sweaty and panting on the ground, completely boneless but more than satisfied with being his little toy.

You don’t hate Bucky Barnes after all.

[izzabela]

Short Glass of Water - Tomas Vrbada edition (HCs)

in which headcanons explain how Tomas would love on his lil' thang

a/n: since bi han's did so well... also inspired by real events (my bf)

ship[s]: tomas vrbada x fem!reader (headcanons)

warning(s): MDNI beyond a certain point, reader is between 5'-5'3, smut, spanking,

- Tomas is from Prague, Czechia, and their average height of men is 5'10. however.... this is my HC list. i think he drank a lot of milk, so he's 6'3 i can do whatever i want

- short!fem!reader and piggyback rides from Tomas. she feels like a koala on a tree, hugging tightly on her "log" as he carries her around whenever and wherever. sometimes, she'll even get fed little snacks

- short!fem!reader loves being little spoon, and Tomas doesn't complain about it either. he likes to have you fit in his chest perfectly, all curled up like a cat as you snore lightly in your sleep. bonus points for him if he rubs your belly

- short!fem!reader and Tomas's huge clothes that swallow her completely. the sleeves of his formal attire droop low and over her wrists, and Tomas smiles happily at the sight of her in his huge clothes ("darling, you do not fit in my clothes." "it's mine, and i don't care.")

- short!fem!reader getting constant, consistent head pats from the european man. yes, Bi Han and Kuai Liang give her head pats, but Tomas will always give it- no questions asked. you place his hand on your head? head pats. he finds you about to fall asleep? head pats + massages

- short!fem!reader and "kabedon". Tomas always finds a way to pin her against the wall, and doing hella cringe stuff as he flirts with you. he'll see her walking, minding her own business, then suddenly her arms are over her head as his head leans in. ("are you lost, baby girl?" he'll ask, and she'll be in a laughing fit)

- short!fem!reader, who always asks Tomas to help her reach stuff (because he loves the feeling of being able to help as well)

- short!fem!reader, who sometimes gets thrown over his shoulder when you become super hyperactive. it's embarrassing, but it calms you down so you can't really complain (if it aint broke, don't fix it)

MDNI =================

- Tomas, who will suffocate himself in her slick cunt as he eats her out. like a starved man, he ravishes her little peach. he'll 69 too, just so he can control your hips and keep your sensitive bud close to his mouth as he licks your sopping wet cunt up

- Tomas, who will fuck her standing up. hands firmly on her hips or ass, bouncing her up and down, feeling her gummy walls hold on tight on his cock as he fucks her

- Tomas, who just... manhandles her. perks of being so small, she doesn't really weigh much in his arms (i mean... he's thrown around men bigger), so being thrown around feels great

- Tomas, who loves to explore with his hands. he'll always make her remember too- "do you like when my hands are all around? hmm love?" (and she loves it too, her hands always guiding his to different parts of her body for him to squeeze and touch)

- Tomas, who marks your body without a care in the world. he has a thing for marking: hickies on your neck and back, spankings on both cheeks, little love bruises on your legs and belly- a bite mark somewhere

- Tomas, who pins her down always. remember the kabedon nonsense? yeah, he'll always mean it in the bedroom. wrists bound by his huge hands, making eye-contact with her as he methodically fucks her

- Tomas, who almost certainly has a breeding kink. "you'll look so pretty, so round and full" or "gonna give me big, strong heirs, love? be good 'n take all of me?" graphic descriptions of her carrying on his legacy (and she fuckin leaks for it)

- Tomas, who loves when you cock-warm him after the sex is done. he's press your hips down, the tip of his cock just kissing the entrance of your (full) womb

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sigh... breeding kink. send tweet

see you all in the next fic!

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚 ♡︎

characters: sub!blade x nb!dom!reader

warnings: fingering, dacryphillia, overstimulation, sensitive virgin bladie <3

notes: a gift for @theblades. can we get an f in the chat for our bestie here because she suffered on the blade banner ✊😔(i did too) also this is more like a drabble tho

hands keeping his legs up and in place, the most cruelest and coldest stellaron hunter couldn’t help but whine and sob deliriously like a common whore as your fingers squelch into his hole again and again. it was bound to happen sooner or later anyways. you’ve been tolerating blade’s annoying ass for too long.

so the least you can get is to see the bastard’s sobbing face as he brokenly pleads for a break♡︎.

angling your fingers so that it would hit his prostate again and again harshly every time your fingers would sink into him, you ignored the immortal’s pleads for a minute of break. to let him breathe properly. to just let himself be able to collect his thoughts even for a fucking second—

“[n-name]! puh-pleaseee!! a… a break! a break pleasheee♡︎♡︎” his voice trails off into a high pitched squeal as his cock lets out another spurt of cum, painting his own stomach white. poor little bladie, can’t even talk properly without tripping over his words or getting his words caught up in a sob.

so fucking pathetic.

just unraveling under you all because he was being a petty bitch. and only by two fingers too.

feeling you add in a third finger into his stretched, lubed up hole, the immortal couldn’t help but keen loudly.

back arching off of the bed so prettily, fat globs of tears rolling down his cheeks over and over like a waterfall, drool slipping past his lips as he lets go of his legs. instead his hands reached out to you. one on your shoulder, the other wrapped around your wrist weakly as if wanting to push you away but not really trying.

“i thought i told you to keep your legs up yourself, bladie” you couldn’t help but growl out, angry at him for failing even a simple task.

hearing the anger in your voice, the stellaron hunter clenches around you like some sort of a harlot. whines and slurred gibberish flowing out of his mouth, probably asking for forgiveness. oh well, not like you were going to give it to him without putting him in his place.

throwing one leg over shoulder, your free hand goes to stroke at his angry red cock to the tempo of your fingers. aeons, were you trying to fucking kill him?

your hand wrapped tightly around his cock, pumping him easily thanks to the great amount of cum you used from his stomach. fingers stretching him wide open to the point he accidentally mistook your fingers as a cock fucking him open in his lust drunken mind.

“fuCK—! fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck! [n-name]~ puh-pleashe! pleaaaANGH! uhn! uhn!♡︎♡︎“ high pitched squeals and moans resembling a girl’s coming out of his mouth, blade could barely even properly see your grinning face looking down at him with such cruel thoughts. even if he begged and cried, tried to crawl away from you, you weren’t going to let him leave tonight.

just a simple squeeze to the tip of his angry red dick with a few harsh jabs to his prostate got him shooting blanks on his stomach. he was so fucked throughly he could no longer even properly cum anymore. poor, pathetic thing.

the hand that was wrapped around your wrist now instead pulls your hand closer to his stretched open hole, almost as if he was asking you to fuck him open. to keep hitting his prostate with your fingers. to fuck him stupid with just your hands alone.

through wet lashes batting up at you, sniffles and weak whimpers, blade speaks up again. but this time asking for something else.

“please…? kuh— gckk♡︎♡︎ keep going..?“

oh yes. you certainly weren’t letting him go until he’s properly put in his place♡︎.

[fatguarddog]

Disclaimer: This audio is intended for audiences of 18+ only 🔞 If you like my content, please consider giving me a tip

You've been gaining a lot of weight recently and don't know why, so you're back at the doctor's office to figure something out with him. The doctor is happy to inspect you and comment on your growing body, soon he reveals his true intentions for you as his work-in-progress piggy and gives you more instructions to follow 🐽

If you're interested in a commission, find more info here

Transcript under cut

Ahh, good to see you again. What seems to be the problem today? You’ve been putting on weight recently despite the diet I put you on? Hmm, yes I can see that… are you sure you haven’t been missing any days with the vitamins and shake supplements? Ok, how strange then. I think it’s best we examine you, maybe try a couple tests.

Stand here for me. Hmm, your belly really is looking quite porky, isn’t it? Your shirt doesn’t seem to cover it anymore. Just roll it up for me and I’ll take some measurements like I did last time so we can make a new plan. Yes, I see you have a few more inches round your middle now… you’re feeling awfully doughy too. Now let’s see your thiiighs… upper arms… your chest… that’s right… Well it seems the most of the weight has stuck to your belly, but you’ve definitely gained all over.

Let’s have you on the inspection table so I can try a few things. Strip down to your underwear and hop on up. Ah, no. Not lying down, on all fours please. There we go, that’s great, just let me get my gloves on. Mmm you really are looking like quite the plump piglet with your potbelly hanging down like that. Ah ah ah, don’t squirm at my touch, I’m merely inspecting you. Your jiggling belly, your rounded out ass, the growth in your chest… it’s all quite delightful. Better than I could have expected, really.

Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t enjoy this piggy. You’re practically frozen to the spot! And I can see the wet patch spreading in your pants. Just relax and let the doctor take care of you. Mmmm, yes that’s right, grind against my fingers as I admire your progress.

You’re much better as a pathetic little porker, aren’t you my piglet? Though we’ll have you growing into a proper piggy in no time, I’m sure. I could just tell when you came in here seeking weight loss advice that you’d be much happier giving in to your urges and gaining instead. I have a knack for seeing through people like that. And I know you’ve been enjoying my ‘diet plan,’ it seems you’ve been having more shakes per day than what the doctor ordered with just how pudgy you’re looking.

Mmm, keep grinding tubby. Let me rub some muscle relaxant cream into your plush rear. No, don’t worry about the needle, you won’t feel a thing. It’s just a fun little concoction to boost your appetite for me. See! Didn’t hurt a bit, did it? Good pig.

Alright, put your clothes back on. Hmm? Look, if you’re that desperate my eager little piglet, then you can get yourself off thinking about how fat I’m going to make you from here. But you need to listen to the doctor’s orders now.

It seems you’ve already been having two shakes on some days, so from now on I want you to do that every day, plus regular meals. Whatever your piggy heart desires. You must also be sure to keep taking your pills, they keep you nice and lazy after all. You’ll come in for a monthly check up so I can track your progress until I deem you ready for me to make a house call to you where I’m sure we’ll have plenty of fun together. Do you understand me? Good piggy.

[yuugen-benni]

''...Excuse me ?''

Prompt: Getting hit on in front of your lover Fandom: Bungou Stray dogs and Genshin Impact Characters: Ayatsuji Yukito, Fyodor, Dazai - Freminet, Wanderer, Dehya Gn!Reader (They/them)

Ayatsuji Yukito: I feel sorry for anyone who likes jealous boyfriends because Ayatsuji is not one. While a random man is hitting on you, he will literally be standing next to you, as if testing to see if the man will realize that he is your lover. But this obviously failed. Ayatsuji is now staring at the man, raising an eyebrow and you can tell he is mentally cursing the man in a clever way. If the person gets too close, or does something that makes you even more uncomfortable, he pokes the tip, still hot, of the kiseru pipe on their forehead and push them back.

''How long will I have to listen to this ?...*sigh*... Sir, use your last remaining neuron to realize that: they're with me''

Fyodor: He laughs…HE LAUGHS. Fyodor is surprised, that you got hit? Maybe, but he's actually surprised by the man's boldness. I mean...he is scary, he exudes death so if someone is by his side it is either his partner in crime or maybe his lover.

When the ''conversation'' becomes more suggestive, he decides not to watch the show anymore and literally just take you out of there.

''It was really fun to watch, but now leave my lover alone if you don't want your heart to stop beating''

Dazai: He's a son of a b!tch, but a lovable one. Dazai will act like he's just a friend and started telling the guy about you (or rather, lie about you to protect your privacy) pretending to help the guy hit on you. Yes, he's just taking advantage of the situation; BUT YES, Dazai is also protecting you so don't be mad at him. At the end of all this performance, he will play his final card: ''They're great people, aren't they? Having them as a lover must be wonderful and guess what? They are my partner!''

-

Freminet: Poor thing, he doesn't know what to do! Does he explain?, Does he just push the guy?, Does he grab your hand and run away??? I believe the last option is more effective. Freminet isn't even used to talking to strangers, let alone someone hitting on his lover. But he tries, he tries hard. And when the guy becomes more invasive, he acts on impulse and pushes you to his side.

''...O-okay, I'm sorry but- you're being extremely disrespectful with my partner''

Wanderer/Scaramouche: This little man here is trying not to beat the ass of the person who is hitting on you. He's holding on so tight that his fists are white. But, as always, Wanderer pretends he's not jealous and then lets you handle the situation… before he does something he shouldn't-- but if the person is very insistent on ''having your heart'' he will definitely do something he shouldn't. He will use words… bad, horrible words or even opt for physical aggression... well you at least are safe now.

Dehya: This is a somewhat unlikely event because once you are under her gaze, nothing bad will happen to you. But, maybe, at some point when you two are shopping, and you end up distancing yourself a little, it can happen. She's prepared… a little too much, but she won't hesitate to confront the guy/girl who has started to make you uncomfortable. At this point, she won't even care if she's being overprotective or not, as long as you're okay.

''Are you blind or something? Can't you see that they're not interested ?''

[sweetandsavageautistic]

(CW: Cringe, Autism Parents stuff, drunk mention, infantilization)

So I don't have a degree in Graphic Design, but I do have a sense of general aesthetic. I figured that it's April. Let's rate, and potentially verbally tear apart and drag through the mud, some autism shirts and graphic designs, and I'll probably do a part 2, these scores are only semi-arbitrary: First up is this:

Already off the top, I am confusion because it seems to read "I wear puzzle cousin autism awareness". Sounds like whoever made this was drunk.

Puzzle pieces, ew.

The red, yellow, green, and blue look like the shades you'd see in elementary school, so that seems pretty infantilizing.

Autism Awareness, I am very much aware of my existence.

Final Score: 0 out of 10. Designer, go home; you're drunk.

Next we have this:

This one already has a slight advantage over the first because it's at least coherent in terms of the message.

Elementary school colors, but make it extra tacky.

Puzzle pieces; don't try to bullshit me by putting the autism awareness banner over it, I can see the other indents that make them puzzle pieces.

Once again, I am well aware of my own existence.

At least it's a smaller design.

Final Score: 0.5 out of 10, and that's being generous.

Next one's not a shirt, but it still counts:

No blue so thank God for that.

This is up to personal preference, but to me, the person-first language is giving "I need to be reminded that someone is a person."

Puzzle pieces. Ew. Don't BS me, I can see them.

Walk down Autism Lane. (it's right below the word LOVE) Sorry, but we don't allow ableists on Autism Lane; you need to be a premium member and to be a premium member, you need to not be a dick.

The pumpkin disturbs me for some reason, and not in the Halloween way; I mean, it just straight-up disturbs me.

Final Score: 0.5 out of 10. Bury it in a shallow grave.

Just found this one:

It's easy on the eyes at least.

No tacky elementary school colors.

No puzzle pieces.

The bunny's cute, but this also seems very infantilizing.

Person first language is a no for me.

Why are all of the is lowercase, but the others are uppercase?

Final Score: 5 out of 10. Not great, but not terrible.

Here we have simple:

Elementary school colors, but credit where credit's due; it's not terrible on the eyes.

Why is blessed on there three times?

One big-ass puzzle piece.

"Autism blesses" Yes, because being bullied by my peers, being indirectly told who I am is wrong, having the worst time making friends, always feeling like I'm never truly part of a friend group, being confused when some adults got mad at me, not having anyone to play with at 4 years old is an absolute fucking blessing. /s And that's the tip of the iceberg.

"Fun", "Sweet", "Cute".....it's the infantilization for me.

Final Score: 3 out of 10. No further elaboration.

Then there's this monstrosity:

I call this color Patronizing Paraprofessional Blue, aka the tackiest shade of blue ever.

It looks like something one of those older white suburban millennial moms would wear. Like something a Karen would wear to one of those autism walks or one of those social skills teachers who talk in that slowed-down patronizing kindergarten teacher tone with that fake-ass smile, no matter how old you are. You know the one I'm talking about, right? Yeah, they'd wear this.

Puzzle piece. Light It Up Blue. Ew.

We all know what organization this supports.

Final Score: -10 out of 10. Burn it.

Let's get in a good one to counter that abomination of a shirt and end part one on a higher note:

Nice simple design with a black background.

No tacky elementary school colors.

Identity-first language.

Really counters the....what the fuck would it be called? The UwU autism parent thing? ("I am his voice, he is my heart," "See the able, not the label," etc,.) It counters that.

The light sparkle around "a bitch" is chef's kiss.

Final Score: 11 out of 10. Perfection.

[missmielyhoran]

Better Than Revenge

after your boyfriend cheats on you with your best friend, you want revenge, and luckily, he has a very hot brother...

[Warning- Smut, Revenge sex, name calling, cheating (both Harry and reader gets cheated on), unrotected sex (pulling out doesn't make babies or std go away), Just me being a petty bitch tbh]

A/N- She's a short one

Masterlist

*****

Two people you trusted your whole life with.

Two people who knew your ups and downs.

Two people who knew your darkest secrets.

Two people who decided to forget all the years together and stabbed you in the back.

And they deserved everything that was coming for them.

You knew your "best friend's" parents were super stricts, relationships and boys were out of the door for them so fucking your best friend's boyfriend? You knew she be in deep shit.

So you sent them screenshots of their chats along with a picture of her riding him.

Did it make you sad to do that to someone you were ready to take a bullet for? yes

Did it also feel great to get back at her? fuck yeah.

Now for your tool of ex-boyfriend you knew exactly what to do.

You see, William was jealous of his brother, not only cause he was the better looking of two but also cause he did so without any effort and unlike him he was kind.

You also might or might not have had a little crush on him in the start.

You walked quitely into your ex-boyfriend's house, making sure he didn't see you and then tip toed to his brother, Harry's room. Quickly, you got inside and locked the door behind you, hearing for any noises.

"Y/N?" He called out. You turned to see him, cozy in grey sweatpants and an oversized sweater sitting on his desk with books opened, headphones on probably doing his homework, "Are you okay? Did Will do something?" He asked.

"Do you know where your girlfriend is?" You asked him. He tilted his head to the side, confused and shook his head. You sighed, understanding that he didn't even know what had been going on for the past four months and then felt bad for what you were about to tell him.

"Your girlfriend and my best friend is fucking your brother" You said rolling your eyes. You walked beside him near the deak and showed him your phone, the pics sent by your friend, and the texts.

Harry watched everything in horror, feeling sadness overtake him. It wasn't like he was in love with her or that they were serious or something, but getting cheated on sucked especially when it's your own brother.

That was the part that hurt him the most. His own blood did this to him.

After the sadness came anger and he saw red. He gave you your phone back and started walking towards his bedroom door, ready to beat Will's ass.

But you stopped him.

You knew Will only did this to get a reaction out from Harry. It felt like he always had to do something to have an upper hand over his brother, whether it's was right or wrong,

and you had a better plan for revenge anyway.

*****

The car was now fogged up as Harry removed his lips from yours, travelling south to your jaw.

"Fuck" You whimpered out at the feeling and started to grind your hips over base of his cock sitting on his lower belly.

You questioned yourself right then. Why were you with the other brother anyway? William was attractive don't get her wrong, but Harry? He looked like he belonged in an art gallery.

Especially naked.

"God, you're so pretty. Why the fuck were you with that piece of shit?" He asked bucking his hips upward sending shock waves through your body as it rubbed over your throbbing clit.

"Don't know" You moaned grinding your hips faster, "You have bigger cock anyway" Your head fell on his shoulder, the tingling on the end of your spine threatened to unravel.

"Yeah," He said, chuckling. His right hand went to your wist while his left came up to your neck, seizing all your movement. He pulled your head back, forcing your eyes open.

"Want me to fuck you dumb baby?" He asked rhetorically, "So good you will not even remember his name" He said pushing you back a bit, with his right hand he lined up his dick to your weeping pussy.

He looked up, and you gave him a nod. That's all needed cause, next thing you know he's slamming into you.

You let out a broken, loud moan, not even bothering to concel your noises. The thrill of revenge fucking in your ex boyfriend's favourite car knowing he was about to walk towards you two any minute with your "best friend" drove you crazy.

His left hand stayed on your neck while his right slide down your body again and rested on your clit. He didn't even apply pressure, just a feather of touch, making you want more yet still feeling too much.

Harry didn't know if it was the anger or that you looked like an absolute sin riding his cock that made him want to just stay there forever, in your warm tight cunt.

How could that fucking idiot cheat on someone like you?

But he had a feeling Will only dated you cause he knew Harry once had a crush on you, and he would get one more opportunity to tell everyone he's with the girl his brother had a crush on.

Or how much of a loser Harry is.

Well, who was the loser now, though?

"God, look at you, baby. Haven't got a good dicking in a while have you?" He mocked, "You're almost gagging for it" He shook his head taunting, and smirked when your clenched around him as an approval.

"Fuck no" You panted out, "Had to get myself off myself after sex. Fuckwit didn't even know where clit was" You laughed along with Harry.

"Poor baby" He pouted and slid down a little in the seat planting both legs on the car floor and then fucking up into you with an unforgiving pace.

He was feeling his orgasm close and seeing the time on his phone sitting beside him he knew Will was about to walk towards the car to go out with his friends and he wanted you coming right in front of him.

"You gonna come, baby?" He asked applying a bit pressure on your clit, his hand move from your neck to your behind groaping your ass.

"God she could never feel like this, your pussy feels so good like it was made for me. My personal little fleshlight" He said sucking hickeys on your neck. He wanted everyone to see what he did to you, wanted everyone to know he made you limp walk next day in college.

He also knew he would be back begging you to fuck him again.

You looked out of the window and saw the main door open. Will and Mia walked towards the car, giggling, unaware of what was going on inside.

Harry felt his phone chime beside him and saw a 'miss you' text from his girlfriend ex-girlfriend.

He decided not to reply and rubbed your clit faster making your moans along with his louder.

"Have all mind to just come inside you, babe. Have you knocked up and let everyone know you're mine and not that dickhead's" He said with his pace now faltering, his own orgasm approaching.

"Yes, please," you whined out and leaned down to kiss him. It was a mess of teeth and tongue, and you came all around his cock with a loud moan.

Harry not far behind pulled out of you and came all over your pussy and lower tummy, your lips not leaving his once.

"What the fuck?!" A feminine scream came from beside him and you smirked against his lips feeling the satisfaction seep into you. You bit down on Harry's lips, making him whimper for change.

You pulled away to see the two people looking at you with wide eyes. William's angry eyes on his brother while Mia's flicked between you two.

"What is all this? You whore, I didn't gave you attention for few days and you fucked my brother!" William screamed reaching out his hand to probably yank you away from Harry but before he could Harry stopped his hand and twisted it as far as he could making him cry out in pain.

"Fucking touch her and see what happens" he growled and you sweared your pussy skipped a beat.

"You're my best friend. How could you do this?" Mia started crying, and you rolled your eyes at her audacity.

"You have been fucking mine for four months. You have no place to talk about girl code" you said, looking her straight in eyes and seeing them widened in horror and realization.

"I- That-" She started stumbling over her words but just cut her off, "Save it"

"So this is what? a revenge? Fucking my brother!" William screamed. You looked at him over your shoulder and smirked, putting your head down on Harry's shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your lower waist.

"You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes"

*****

I can't believe my hlaf asleep dumbass posted this half written😭🤦‍♀️

Taglist- @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @lomlhstyles @vmpellie @sunshinemoonsposts @jayde515

Please Like, Comment and Reblog.

You can talk to me here♡ cause I love it when you guys talk to me about anything!

Requests are unfortunately closed.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day nineteen: hate sex

>>> i’m really taking some liberties with this prompt LMFAOOOOO listen. y’all should just be thanking me this wasn’t a gojo kinktober. leave me be. also this is the first piece since my laptop kicked the bucket so PLEASE ignore the UGLY formatting i will fix it as soon as i get a new laptop.

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: ghostie gojo jdjdfkgk, bestie nanami, uhh spankings, choking, doggy, prone bone, cream pie, pet names (sweetheart) and mean names (dickhead, asshole) >>> wc: 4.5k >>> event masterlist

everything was perfect. he was a great partner despite all the people that warned you that the special grade sorcerer was incapable of it. he was wonderful and sweet and considerate, even. he brought you lunch at work and took you on wonderfully lavish dates. he texted you constantly and showered you with gifts. you had only been together for a few months, though almost a year of history had led you here. you were happy, proving everyone who doubted your relationship wrong. until you realized that they were only trying to keep you from this reality.

“i love you, you know.” you told him, swinging your intertwined hands between you as he walked you home. this was a truth you’ve known since the relationship was too fresh to say such things, but a truth nonetheless. he hid it well in the moment, but that was the death sentence to a man like satoru gojo. he knew it was only a matter of time—yet his heart stopped in his chest, turning to steel before falling out of his ass. but he made sure his smile never faltered.

“oh yeah? i’ll add you to the list.” he chuckled, poking your side to make you laugh at the stupid taunt. it worked well enough, you didn’t seem to catch on to his avoidance. you didn’t chastise him for not saying it back, at least.

he walked you to your front door like normal. he gave you a goodbye and goodnight kiss like normal, he even smiled so genuinely and told you he’d call you in the morning—just like normal.

but when morning came, his call didn’t. no big deal, you thought, he’s a very busy man. once he gets some free time, he’ll call. but hours pass, and you don’t get so much as a text to apologize or let you know he was going to be late. you keep staring at his contact, debating whether or not you should bother or not for an hour or so. but a text couldn’t be too distracting, so you type something up.

‘good morning! or afternoon now, lol–i missed ur call, i hope ur having a good day!! call me when you can xx’

it doesn’t deliver. you furrow your brows and try it again, but it still doesn’t go through. you move to a different area of your house, thinking it was spotty reception in your bedroom. you try to send the text again—but it still doesn’t send. you try to call, your heart now pounding in your ears. something must have malfunctioned, right? after all your years as friends and these brief months exploring more—he wouldn’t just block you, right?

the phone call doesn’t ring, just an automated voice telling you that that the call couldn’t be completed as dialed. he blocked you. without so much as a hint to why. everything was perfect last night, he was all smiles and laughter, what could have changed? you want to call the only mutual connection you have—ieiri shoko—but decide it’s best not to involve her in the matter between two of her friends. it’s not tasteful and if there’s any chance of this being a misunderstanding, then taking it to your friends is the last thing you want to do. you could maybe ask nanami for advice at work in the morning—you wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends, but he’s how you met the strongest man alive. so he has to have some tips! yes, you’ll talk to nanami about it first thing tomorrow.

talk his ear off about it is more apt if you ask the grade one who merely dabbles in business work. he tried to be polite and listen to the tale—but your first mistake was in dealing with gojo in the first place. there was no advice in the world to fix that amount of stupid, especially if you were looking to get him back. but nanami catches the issue as soon as you recount the tale of your last conversation with the special grade.

“you told him that you love him?” he clarified with a raised brow. based on the judgment that flashes in his eyes, you know that was the wrong move. you huff in frustration.

“you introduced me to him—why would you set me up like this nanakun??” you pout, angrily folding your arms over one another. it’s a shitty attempt to take the heat off yourself, and nanami can appreciate it.

“hardly. he shoved his way in my office and you happened to be in there already.” he rolls his eyes. trust him, he did not want to see more of gojo—and dating his workplace’s secretary only meant that the annoying presence followed him even here. “i strongly advised against it. i knew we would end up here.”

you shoot him a glance, but his unamused face remains unchanging. you ignored everyone’s warnings, choosing the results he was giving you as reason enough for them to be wrong. did he enjoy leading you on and wasting his time? what was the game in all this?

“you shouldn’t have gone after him at all. but you definitely shouldn’t have told him you love him first.” nanami nearly seemed horrified. or what you imagined he would look like when horrified, eyes slightly widened and jaw dropped partially.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. maybe it’s because you knew how you felt for so long. maybe it was just because satoru put you at ease—none of the reasons matter now.

“it’s hard for him to do serious. love is as serious as it gets.” nanami sighs wistfully. you were a nice girl who didn’t deserve to be another name on the list of hearts broken by satoru gojo. for your own good, you should forget all about him and sorcerers as a whole. you would be much better off. but something about that look on your face paired with the fact that he knows satoru has never been happier in his miserable existence makes nanami sigh. “he’s just afraid of committing. the only person he ever loved just up and left him one day. so just…try to let him go. let him come back if he wants—if you want. maybe then he’ll be ready.”

your heart warms at your friend’s words. it was clear he couldn’t care less if things worked out or not, but he wanted you to feel better. you smile softly at his words, “thank you nanakun, i’ll try to…let him go.”

you think you did a pretty good job of that. as time went on, you think you even managed to convince yourself you didn’t want him back at all. if he could just flake out on you—look you in the face and lie—you didn’t want him. no matter how sexy and sweet and strong he was, trust is the most important thing. you keep your head down and work hard, catching up with nanami and learning any updates on your sorcerer that way.

apparently he was casually dating around, but nothing nearly as serious as you. he made sure of that. he hadn’t heard an ‘i love you’ in years, and while he may have thought it at different times throughout the past couple of dates you’ve been on, he hadn’t said it. even thinking it was bad enough. that meant you held an unimaginable and concerning amount of power over him. that meant you could crush his soul into a million pieces. that meant you could ruin him—and he can’t go through that again. the possibility of handing himself over to deep and passionate love was beautiful in theory but terrifying in practice, and the thought of giving in just to lose a second time were odds he just wasn’t willing to gamble with.

so he did it first. if he broke your heart you couldn’t break his.

so why does he feel so bad? so empty? every pretty girl he carted around after that was a weak competitor. they were nice enough, but so shallow and boring—they treated him like everyone else. you were special. you treated him like a person. someone with feelings and dreams and regrets. you asked him questions. real questions that made him think about real answers, nothing surface level like his favorite color or movie. you wanted to know him. and he let you learn just some of his darkest days and you told him you love him anyway. and he ran away from you. goddamn. he’s his own worst enemy.

he shows up with flowers one day, six weeks after you’ve broken up—or he dumped you. it was a normal day until then, but it certainly wouldn’t be after. it was laughably large bouquet, it almost looked like he was struggling to hold it all. your eyes must look like two full moons based off of his amused yet apologetic smile. you have to make yourself stop your smile before it spreads.

“hi…” he said nervously, shifting his weight foot to foot. he messed up—how could he make up for it? “i was wondering—“

“leave.” your shaky voice manages to croak out, quickly looking down at your paperwork. you had to avoid his stare, surely he would figure you all out if he looked deep enough. nanami said to make him work for it.

“flowers aren’t your thing, huh?” he seems undeterred—in fact, he seems emboldened by your reaction. “that’s fine. i’ll leave them here…” he styles them on your desk, sweeping your stapler and pencil sharpener and organizers to the side to accommodate the large vase. you watch him carelessly move things about, forcing you to accept his gift.

“you’re annoying.” you groan, though the flowers are gorgeous. they’re the same kinds you pointed to when you went on a nature walk one time—something he swore he was going to hate but ended up being one of his favorite outings with you. you seemed to have that effect on him.

“i know! one of my better qualities, i think.” he hums happily, chlorinated pools of crystal blue stare at you over the lenses of his casual sunglasses. he traded in the blindfold in hopes of winning you back—he wasn’t above playing dirty, even if he was the reason he had to play at all.

“as opposed to? ghosting?” you raise your brow. he sighs. he doesn’t know what he expected. he knew you wouldn’t fall right back into his arms, but that biting look in your eye makes him wonder if he’s messed things up beyond repair. either way, he won’t go down without a fight.

“yes—that’s one of the bad ones.” he scrunches his nose in distaste. he bends at the waist to lean his elbows on your desk, propping his face up in his hands. “look sweetheart—“

you scoff, leaning back in your office chair with something akin to amusement. you fold your arms over your chest and arch your brow, and even though you are absolutely pissed, you still manage to make his heart skip a beat. “don’t call me that, you fucked me up. or does that it make you happier?”

“you think i’m bringing you flowers for my health or something? i’m trying to apologize!” he whines, tugging a lone flower out of the bouquet and extending it toward you. “i’m an asshole, i know, and i don’t deserve to call you sweetheart—“

“i don’t accept.” you tilt your nose in the air. he swears he can see the hint of a smirk on your lips, and he sighs. you hold the power yet again, but this time he’s going to allow it.

“what can i do to make it up to you? it was a mistake..i see that now.” he frowns, looking down at the pale pink petals brushing against his fingers.

“mm, yeah? i’m sure fucking a bunch of other women helped clear that up.” you look at the flower in his hand too, examining the brightness, the absolute perfection of the petals. it almost withers with the man holding it.

“wh-what?” he blinked rapidly. he hadn’t had sex with anyone—god no, he can’t do fleeting connections, and in his heart of hearts he knew that none of them would fill the void you left behind. but your jealousy…now that he could use. “aw, baby, just say you missed me. i could clear up some things for you too.”

you snarl at the insinuation, even more annoyed that he didn’t deny romping around with other women after dropping you like it was nothing.

“i’m sure you wish you could, baby, but i’m not sloppy seconds.” you take the flower and snap the stem, tossing it on your desk without second thought. he pouts at the gesture, deciding that words were no use on you, he hums. he knows how to handle this.

“no, but you are more delicious the second time.” he sings, and you get up from your desk in frustration. he was so irritating. did he think that he could just disappear on you like that and you’d just forgive him like nothing? you huff up at him, gathering all your stuff and shoving it into your office bag. nanami watches from the stairs—and he’s proud that you’re making gojo work for it, at least.

you stomp out of the office building with all the theatrics at your disposal, and it only makes satoru smirk as he walks after you. god you want him so bad, he thinks. he catches the office door before you can slam it closed behind you, sliding his palm across the wooden panels with a suave coolness. it’s like he has the situation completely under control, strolling leisurely after the little lady stomping and yelling at him over her shoulder. he knows he fucked up, and if you wanted to blast him through the city on your route home, then he’d smile and walk dumbly after you.

your heart was racing. he was still following you—and you knew if he cornered you alone, there would be no denying him. your brain was fighting hard enough to deny him back in the office already. your blood is boiling. why do you want him back so bad? he left you—is sleeping with other women, even, and you're letting him tail you to your house. you shut the door on him, but he just teleports into your living room anyways. you give him a look—not sure what else to say. ordering him out would be futile—as you didn’t want him to and he clearly wouldn’t obey.

he’s smug, sitting on your couch with one long leg crossed over the other one, his arm stretched across the back of the couch like he’s just waiting to put it around you. he stares at you knowingly, but that smirk is driving you insane.

“stop looking at me like that—and get out of my house.” you try meekly, at least you could say you could. your eyes narrow at his unmoving form and he can’t help but chuckle a little bit.

“you’re trying so hard to be mad at me, sweetheart.” he hums, arching a brow in amusement. he bats those long white eyelashes at you like he’s just ready for you to admit the truth and come crumble in his lap.

“i’m pissed, not trying that hard at all.” you scoff and shake your head, tossing your bag on the floor so that you may properly cross your arms at him. “you lied to my face, ghosted me, and now you’re acting like i’m being ridiculous for not accepting your flowers and taking you back?”

he shakes his head, a little nonchalant frown on his face. “you aren’t ridiculous for that—“ he stands and makes his way to you, not even bothering to hide the way he eyes you up and down. “you’re ridiculous for pretending you don’t want to. i could make this allll better if you’d just let me, sweetheart.”

his breath is as icy as his eyes when he leans down, brow arched like he’s asking a question. he is, you realize, he wants to know if you’ll let him.

“i never really slept with anyone, sweetheart. promise. was just trying to get you off my mind. didn’t work—made everything worse, actually. i got what i deserved.” he sighs softly, noting the hesitation on your face but the want in your eyes. he reaches a tentative hand to your face, giving you a soft smile when you let him touch you. “i’m sorry…you’re all i can think about. i just got nervous—i’m so stupid. beyond stupid—“

you smash your lips onto his to keep him from yapping. all he had to do was apologize. really apologize and mean it—but you would still punish him for walking away. you would make sure he could never do it again, lest he’ll never be able to get you out of his head even in death.

his hands grab at your dress, pulling you against his body in one fluid motion. the kiss changes moods entirely. the room feels like it’s buzzing now, his passion felt through the way he moves. he slides over your ass, kneading and fisting the fat with a groan into your mouth. you step into him, backing him to the couch. he grins against your lips like always—his kiss was warm and apologetic, lips hurriedly slotting over yours in an effort to make up for his transgressions.

he falls into a seat, pulling you into his lap with him. he sees your plan, and won’t go down without a fight. he promised to straighten you out after all. but letting you think you’re in charge was adorable, so he didn’t mind to indulge in it. you push his chest back with your own, grabbing his chin in your hand roughly. his back hits the couch and he can’t hold back his little giggle as his hands follow the paths of your body, though a satisfied hum follows at the feeling.

“you are sorry—a sorry piece of shit.” you huff, repeatedly kissing him over and over with all the anger you’ve been pinning up for the past few weeks without him. he grunts lowly, opening his mouth to invite you deeper. you take his willingness as a gift, plunging your tongue in his mouth and making sure yours stays in control. he tastes like honey and cinnamon, and it was a taste you missed more than you let yourself believe.

“pieces of shit must be your type though.” he sasses, standing up with you on his lap. he knows where your room is based on his extensive stays over, it’s nearly muscle memory for him to kick your door open with the point of his shoe, smiling up at you like no time had passed —like no bad blood had resulted from it. he throws you down like you weigh nothing, though he takes a seat on the side. upon hearing you gasp at his words, he scoffs and shakes his head. “don’t even think about it. i’ll fuck it out of you anyway.”

you can’t deny the way your body tingles and warms at his command. he’s usually soft and sweet, just rough enough to satisfy any cravings of yours—but he never struck obedience into your soul. your mouth closes, and he chuckles a little bit at your change. “that’s better. now if you wanna keep poppin’ off with attitude, i’ll get nasty instead of the sweet apology i planned for you.”

you roll your eyes, he was testing it. “don’t tempt me—“ you huff, a little annoyed at how easily your body gives up. you didn’t want to give him the ego boost of obedience, so you give him the attitude requested. “you messed up—i’ll talk to you however I want—“

he sighs and tugs at you, pulling your body at will. he splays you across his lap—long legs hanging over the edge of your bed. your dress is shoved up over your ass, and the tiny string of your thong is drawn back and snapped against the flesh. it makes you squeal a little in surprise, but you would be lying to say you didn’t want more.

“oh i’m a piece of shit, who are these for, nyeh?” he flicks your panties again, the sensation a small pleasurable sting.

“you dumped me—they’re for whoever i want.” you huff at him, even if his jealousy makes your heart warm. he slaps the fat of your ass lightly, humming at the way you jolt.

“yeah?” he smacks your other side, “i didn’t fuck anybody though. knew i needed you.” he spanks the same spot, the sting intensifies so wonderfully and makes your head spin. you can’t help the little moans that leave you with every slap.

“didn’t fuck anybody either, dickhead.” you pant, tossing him a glare over your shoulder. his free hand comes to grab your throat, sinewy warm and soft fingers wrap around your column with a tight grip—though not enough to restrict any airflow, of course. his cock stabs into your side at the sight. he grins brightly, almost sadistic in nature.

“you’re silly.” he hums, squeezing your throat until your eyes cross a little. he hums at you, the vision enough to make him painfully hard, but he always knows when to let up. he slaps your ass in conjunction with his little squeeze. he knows how to keep your eyes on him— repeatedly shaking his head, like he disapproves of you. “so pretty though. but mouthy.” he tsks, giving you a punishing spank to your tender skin. he hums pleasantly at the way your skin breaks a little, his red handprints making their way to the surface. “can’t even accept an apology. what do you want me to do, sweetheart?”

you can’t deny the wetness pooling in that skimpy thong. the stinging through your ass only makes your brain fog worsen, need was the only thing on your mind. he was so strong and sexy, and he was trying to make it up to you. you suppose you could…hear him out. that didn’t mean you were back together.

“fuck me—i’ll make my decision based on your performance.” you purr in his lap, wiggling your branded ass. he groans, you’re going to tease when you look like this? he woulda proposed if you asked him to if it meant you were all his again. commitment didn’t scare him so much anymore. you were as angry as ever and you still smiled when you saw him. you still let him follow you back home to plead his case. even if you didn’t have much a choice, you hardly even put up a fight. and he knew what that meant: you weren’t nearly as angry as you were trying to be.

“oh i’ll fuck you, sweetheart. let’s see if you can take it.” he hums so innocently, scooting you off his lap and onto all fours. he slides your thong to the side, laughing giddily at the sight of your soaking cunt. you definitely weren’t as mad as you were trying to be. “god look at this ocean—i almost feel bad for ya. trying to be such a meanie t’me when i’m the only one that can make it better.”

he wrestles with his pants, pushing them to his knees with haste. precious time was ticking, and stripping completely was a waste of it. he nearly sighs in relief when he frees himself, pumping his length fluidly. you whine at the time it’s taking him to fuck you, wiggling your cute rear and huffing.

“takin’ too long—“ you can’t finish your sentence before you cry out, his cock splitting you open just as you asked for. your walls felt like coming home, and every squeeze you give him was like a warm hug. he can’t believe he denied himself this for weeks just because you said something he’d been dying to hear from someone who meant it his entire life.

“better?” he asks, using your plush hips as his handlebars. this was why you would never be able to move on from him no matter the advice and warnings and every sign in the world telling you ‘no satoru gojo!’ he was just too good, he knew you all too well and your body craved and needed him like water. he fit in your cunt like he was built to, every pump of his cock left you gripping the sheets in an effort to hold yourself up, which you can only do for a few more seconds. “what, too hard? i thought you wanted to be fucked, little one?”

you’re stuck in a silent scream, unable to answer him. you feel like you can feel him in your lungs, his hips absolutely bullying yours. he admires your deep arch even though you’ve fallen forward, your ass rippling into his pubic hair so perfectly he had to reward you with some grunts and groans of his own. he lays over your back, cooing his praises in your ear.

“there she goes, now she’s taking good dick. can’t believe you almost wasted a thong like this— good thing i stay around, yeah?” he shoves your forward just a bit, off his cock and face first into your pillows. you whine at the loss, but he flattens your legs and sits on top of them—squeezing his cock between your thighs and ass, guiding his dick back in. you mewl at the new sensation. how could he possibly be deeper? “awww, that’s a good girl. letting me fuck ya like i hate ya when i’m just trying to prove that i love you too.”

you clench when he says it, moans intensifying as he uses you in this new position. he smirks, you’re adorable. laying there screaming for him with a gorgeously painted ass and a perfect body taking all the force behind his thrusts. “you still love me, sweetheart?”

you nod eagerly, your moans borderline animalistic. “yes—fuck, yes i do, i love you satoru!” you feel him so deeply in your stomach that you can’t keep holding back. it felt like a rubber band snapped as you squeeze around him and cover him with your essence. he keeps going, eyes trained on your recoil and the white ring you left at the base of his cock. your confirmation only drives him crazier, your limp body beneath him taking his increased pace like a champ—little overstimulated moans the only sound he can hear.

“gonna cum in this pretty pussy to show you how much i love you.” he groans, picking your body up in one strong arm to hold you down on his cock. you feel the rush of heat and shudder, the fact he was willing to deal with the consequences of cumming inside alone made you want more of him—until he couldn’t cum anymore. he holds you up, luckily enough— you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself—and places soft kisses to your neck. he hums, enjoying the taste of your skin slightly sweaty and warm from his love. he stays inside you, he can’t bring himself to move just yet, but he sighs in content.

“so…we back together?”

[hanasnx]

something something about cringefail loser mordecai having this fantasy about anal and something something about him finally getting the chance

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: the header is from @/teefumz on tiktok and instagram. i couldn’t find anything about their rules on reposts used for personal reasons such as this which is why i really stress go check out the original artist on their platforms linked. WARNINGS: human!mordecai | situationship | fwbs | explicit sexual content | doggy style | porn references | anal penetration.

MORDECAI’s never tried it before. His lack of sexual experience speaks for itself, but you’ve also never brought it up. You’ve been hooking up with him for a while now, and you had no idea the amount of times he’s stared at your little asshole and bit his lip so hard it broke the skin. He wants it bad, and you dangle it in front of him every time you bend over.

He’s not disappointed with pussy, he just can’t help but gravitate towards the unknown. The porn holes he’s fallen down where pro pornstars take two or three dicks in the seemingly elastic and bottomless room of their assholes makes him itch to try it out. A pussy is great, but he’s gotta try anal. At least once.

On the forefront of his thoughts for weeks, he’s at his limits of waiting. Every time you meet up he’s considering bringing it up, but it just never occurs organically. He’s not sure what to say. At one point he nearly spilled it when you’d asked him how his coffee was to make conversation, all the while he was nailing down his tongue in his mouth to keep from blurting out the phrase, “I wanna fuck your ass.”

He wants to fuck your ass, over and over and over again. He wants to creampie the fuck out of it, let it ooze out of you in spurts when your hole contracts.

To his surprise, he’s not the one to ask about it first. Bent over in front of him with your back arched low, you’re offering yourself to him, “Wanna put it in my ass? C’mon, you know you want to.” voice breathless and sultry, clutching the covers as you let him decide. His agape mouth quivers, unable to form a sentence as his brain spans a million things at once.

“Fuck yes, I do.” he can’t say it fast enough, eager enough. Straightening up to fix a palm on your asscheek, mounting you when the head of his cock brushes the puckered lips of your hole. You’ve done this before, he hasn’t, and he can’t believe you just volunteered it like that. Aren’t girls supposed to be chaste with this sort of thing? He doesn’t know, but it’s best not to question it.

His long fingers wrap around his shaft, giving it a few sticky pumps as he humps his hips forward, easing the tip in. Out of inexperience, he goes a touch too fast, so you hiss and order him to take his time. He mutters an apology, pulling out only to do it again. Over and over, centimeter by centimeter, he takes his time. As soon as he feels it wrap around the head of him, he feels fit to burst right then. It’s a completely different texture than a cunt. Its moisture comes solely from lube, and it’s tougher going in. But the tightness is on another level.

His eyes close, head lulling back as he relaxes with a low groan vibrating from his throat. You rub your cheek on the mattress, whimpering as you rock back on him in tiny motions, letting the pleasure loosen you up until he bottoms out. His balls brush your folds, wet and leaking while his dick takes a turn in your asshole. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut to concentrate on anything other than where his cock is right now. “This is too good, this is way too fucking good. Fuck—I might bust.”

[thebisexualdogdad]

Smutober day 12: Barry Allen x Male!reader - The other side of the world

You had been in London for two weeks for work and you talked on the phone with Barry every day.

“I can't wait to come home next week, I miss you so much,” you tell your boyfriend over the phone.

“I know I've been counting down the days till you get back,” he replies.

“Have you been keeping yourself busy?”

“Oh yeah we finally locked up mirror master today, caught him while he was trying to rob a bank,” he tells you.

“That's great,” you reply happily but you had been horny for days and was missing more than just hearing his voice, “I miss you.”

“You said that already,” he chuckles.

“No Barry, I miss you,” you say and then Barry's phone dings that he got a message.

He opens it up to see you sent him a photo of you in your hotel bed, you're shirtless with your sweatpants pulled down just enough to tease him with the base of your cock.

“Barry? You still there?” You ask when he doesn't say anything.

“Open your door,” he finally says, breaking the moment of silence.

You get up and walk over to the door, opening it up to find Barry standing there.

“You really ran to the other side of the world for me?” You ask, hanging up your phone and slipping it in the pocket of your sweats.

“I'd run around the world a million times for you,” he says, stepping inside the room and kissing you hard.

He kicks off his shoes as you make out, walking backwards towards the bed.

He pushes you down to sit on the edge and he gets to his knees, kissing your lower stomach as he pulls your sweats off.

“If I knew all it took for you to run across an ocean was a dick pic I would have sent you one days ago,” you laugh as he strokes you, your cock growing hard in his hand.

He chuckles and takes your semi hard cock in his mouth, expertly bobbing his head.

You tangle your hand in his hair, giving him praise as he sucks your now fully erect cock.

“God Barry you always make me feel so good,” you groan as he massages your balls.

He continues to work your cock but now his finger is playing with your hole, easing it inside.

You moan loudly as he uses his powers to vibrate his finger stretching you out.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, when Barry learned this trick a few years ago he took full advantage of it whenever possible.

He adds a second finger, pumping them deeper inside you and continuously hitting your g spot as he has your entire cock in his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you shout, cumming straight down his throat.

Barry swallows it all, removing his fingers and releasing your cock with a wet pop.

“Turn over baby,” he tells you as he stands up and you crawl onto the bed, your ass in the air ready to be fucked by him.

Barry strips off his clothes, slapping his hard cock against your ass to tease you.

“Barry,” you groan as he slips the tip inside you.

“I've had to use our toys to get myself off the last two weeks but none of them ever felt as good as your ass,” he says, holding onto your waist as he starts to fuck you.

It doesn't take long for you to get hard again with Barry pounding you from behind but then he starts to vibrate his cock.

“Oh my god yes just like that,” you cry out, your eyes rolling back.

Barry smirks proudly knowing exactly what he's doing to you and he also gets the benefit of getting to watch your ass jiggle from the vibrations.

You reach down and start jerking yourself off, another orgasm quickly approaching.

“I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum,” you chant, shooting out onto the bedsheets.

Barry returns to a normal human pace, pulling out of you and vibrating his hand as he uses it to help him cum all over your ass.

He speeds to the bathroom and grabs a towel as your arms finally give out on you and you fall to the mattress.

Back with a nice soft towel from the bathroom he cleans the cum off your ass and the sheets letting you flip over onto your back.

Throwing the towel to the floor he crawls onto the bed and lays next to you, “you okay babe? I didn’t over do it did I?”

“Baby that was incredible,” you say, scooting closer to him and putting your head on his chest.

[misterbartender]

Mortal Kombat 11 x Dark! Caster Reader Intro Banter

(Gender Neutral)

The Reader in this scenario will be a Dark Caster (a dark witch/wizard/warlock/sorcerer/etc..) paired with Mortal Kombat 11 characters. Yes, retconned Sindel will be used here because I thought it would be better for this scenario.

Kombatants: Kano, Erron Black, Skarlet, Shang Tsung, Sindel, Johnny Cage, Cassie Cage, Noob Saibot/Bi-Han

Warnings: (Some suggestive themes) not proofread

KANO:

KANO: I intend to make a fortune by taking your head.

Y/N: And I intend to make you my slave.

KANO: (with a filthy, smug grin) Kinky.

-

Y/N: Like hell I would let you tear out my organs.

KANO: Oh there’s another way I can rearrange your guts, love.

Y/N: ...How big is that knife?

-

Y/N: So you are the head of The Black Dragon? How filthy.

KANO: And dangerous, love. You’d also make a fine Black Dragon.

Y/N: Hmm bet I can tame you then. (smirks)

ERRON BLACK:

ERRON BLACK: You casted a hell of a spell on me darlin’.

Y/N: And now you’re mine, cowboy.

ERRON BLACK: You’re wicked… I like that. (smirks)

-

Y/N: How much is on my head, Erron Black?

ERRON BLACK: Billions, and I won’t quit just ‘cause you have a pretty face.

Y/N: Glad we’re on the same page, pretty boy, I’ll make you plead for mercy.

-

ERRON BLACK: I could take you out for a ride ’round Outworld.

Y/N: I’m more interested in the “save a horse, ride a cowboy” deal.

ERRON BLACK: (tips hat with a smirk) Say no more sweetheart.

SKARLET:

SKARLET: So much power running through those veins.

Y/N: I could give you a taste, Skarlet.

SKARLET: And more?

-

Y/N: Join me, Skarlet, and I will teach you the secrets of Blood Magic that not even Shao Kahn knows.

SKARLET: You think I would betray Shao Kahn as one of his daughters?

Y/N: He has been holding you back, my dear.

-

Y/N: That hunger of yours can also be a weakness.

SKARLET: Blood has made me powerful. (narrows eyes)

Y/N: With my powers, you will feel hunger no more.

SHANG TSUNG:

SHANG TSUNG: Together with our powers, we could be ruling the realms.

Y/N: And how will I know you will not betray me?

SHANG TSUNG: Only a fool would do that to a beautiful creature like you.

-

Y/N: Are you here for my soul, Shang Tsung?

SHANG TSUNG: Only your heart, Y/N.

Y/N: It is black as the darkest of nights.

-

SHANG TSUNG: I could give you anything you desire.

Y/N: For what price?

SHANG TSUNG: You, by my side.

SINDEL:

SINDEL: The great Dark Caster.

Y/N: Beautiful as you are wicked.

SINDEL: Coming from you, that is the highest praise one could receive.

-

Y/N: You’re still with that oaf?

SINDEL: He is far greater than that weakling Jerrod.

Y/N: If I come back with his head, will that sway you?

-

Y/N: Well well, Empress Sindel (turns around and smiles)

SINDEL: Kneel. (smirks)

Y/N: I do not kneel. But I can provide other...services...if you wish, my lady.

JOHNNY CAGE:

JOHNNY CAGE: Are you the bad kind or the sexy kind?

Y/N: Both. (smirks)

JOHNNY CAGE: Woo! Well I’m in trouble.

-

JOHNNY CAGE: So uh... did you use a broomstick to get here?

Y/N: Cage, we do not all use brooms.

JOHNNY CAGE: Well if you need one, you can ride mine.

-

Y/N: That power you possess comes from a line of powerful warriors.

JOHNNY CAGE: Awesome-ness is in my blood.

Y/N: I’ll gladly take it from your hands you arrogant fool.

CASSANDRA CAGE:

CASSANDRA CAGE: So… are we playing Light as a feather, stiff as a board?

Y/N: (rolls eyes) Just like your father, living in your movies.

CASSANDRA CAGE: Maybe I should start calling you Nancy Downs

-

Y/N: So you’re the one that defeated Shinnok?

CASSANDRA CAGE: Impressed? Or scared that you’re next in line for an ass kicking?

Y/N: Oh but you stand before a beast far greater than Shinnok by many levels.

-

CASSANDRA CAGE: Come on, stop with the villain shit so we can go out.

Y/N: Negative, darling, wreak havoc with me.

CASSANDRA CAGE: Is that really all you do?

BI-HAN/NOOB SAIBOT:

BI-HAN: Come join us in the darkness.

Y/N: My time above is not yet over, Bi Han.

BI-HAN: We will conquer it together with our army of shadows.

-

Y/N: The dark is where I belong, in the end.

BI-HAN: The shadows yearn for your touch.

Y/N: The touch of death?

-

BI-HAN: There is only room for one force of darkness.

Y/N: Me. Now go home to your brother.

BI-HAN: You know nothing!

[cyberbark]

cyno x gn!dom!reader cw: thigh grinding, dry humping, handjob (g.) praise (g.), needy!cyno

a/n: ik it's ass but,, pampering cyno times proofread, 500+ wc

!nsfw below the cut!

Even the great General Mahamatra needed to let go of stress sometimes. It was times like this where he could be vulnerable, giving up control and be taken care of.

His soft moans and trembling body heavily contrasted his usual work attitude. His eyes kept shutting from the overwhelming pleasure. Your hands held his small waist to support his weight as he kept grinding on your thigh. He was still wearing his shorts, unbothered to take it off for now.

You observed his every movement, marveling at his beauty. Everything ranging from his white hair to his dark skin was enticing. The need to get closer grew wildly. Cyno could feel it too. He leaned in and kissed you while also moving his crotch to yours.

He kept moaning in between of the kisses. "More— please—" He whined and bucked his hips to yours to create some friction. A wet patch had started to form on his shorts. Cyno panted as he held your shoulders for support.

Your hand went to his waistband, slowly pulling it down. Cyno watched you intently. You pulled his shorts lower, freeing his cock. He wasn't big, a bit below average. The tip of his cock was smeared with precum, begging to be touched. You smiled faintly before wrapping your hand around his dick.

Starting off slow with your movements, Cyno's breath kept hitching whenever you brushed past his tip. He grew sensitive very quickly, especially when you directly touched his cock. You began to pump his cock at a quicker speed. "You're doing so well, Cyno. Just a bit more, yeah?" You said and Cyno nodded. His dick was throbbing in your hand, knowing he was close.

Cyno found it hard to stay upright so he opted to lay his head on your shoulder and claw at your back. He always liked the closeness between you two. His moans got breathier, and it didn't help the fact that it was so close to your ear too.

"You feel good, Cyno?" You asked, squeezing the tip of his cock, just as he liked it. "Mmh— yes! S'good, please don't stop—" Cyno whimpered, the hot pleasure made his mind fuzzy.

"Go ahead, my Cyno. You can cum whenever." You said softly, still stroking his dick. His body was twitching all over, waiting for release. He probably hadn't touched himself while he was gone doing his duty. How obedient.

"Gonna cum— mnh—" Cyno cried as his eyes screwed shut, his nails digging into your back. "Good boy, you always do so good for me." You say, helping him ride out his orgasm. All the pent up frustration from days end was released and it was worth it. He came so much, you wondered how long it would take for him to have dry orgasms by the end of your session. While he was catching his breath, you placed your other hand on his back to comfort him. Peppering his face with kisses as you did so.

"Gonna return the favor to you." Cyno said, getting down on his knees to please you.