#and helps him up and lets him lean against him (and the angle makes it unclear but there's touching of SOME sort going on)

[vunblr]

Tangled (#9)

Pairing: Cecaelia! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Slight Angst. Fluff. Slow Burn. Teratophilia.

Summary: Between fear and fascination, a solitary creature struggles to protect his hidden world -and himself- after an unexpected encounter with a curious human woman makes him question everything he thought he knew about trust, danger, and boundaries.

Word Count: 8.7k

note: This is one of the works I'm submitting for the @avengers-assemble-bingo event Kinky Bingo. The Prompt is Monster Fucking. Card number KB-014.

Previous Chapter

In the days that followed their kiss on the beach, something shifted. She kept returning to her usual spot near the rocks, sitting with her yarn and humming as if nothing had changed, but the air between them was different. Bucky lingered now. At first, he hovered at a distance, half-submerged, watching with those sharp, unreadable eyes. But as the hours passed, he grew bolder. Every time.

Sometimes he’d curl a single limb around her ankle as she worked, or stroke the back of her hand when she reached for something. Other times, he'd join fully beside her on the rocks, glistening in the sun, with his tattooed arm propping him up behind her like he’d always belonged there. The conversation flowed naturally between them, hesitant at first, then deeper. She asked questions about his kind. He listened to her stories about life before the coast. They learned from each other in fragments.

But it was mating season. And he was trying -really trying- not to crowd her, not to rush. Still, when she leaned back into him, when her thigh brushed his hip, his tentacles would stir without permission. At first, they only wrapped loosely around her waist or leg, but soon they started to roam, mapping the shape of her calves, her arms, the line of her back. He was always watching her face, always waiting to see if she'd pull away. She never did.

She let him explore. She started to touch him back, too. Tentative at first, but curious. They were becoming a slow, simmering thing. It wasn’t just instinct or heat. It was her choosing him, again and again.

One afternoon, as the sun dipped low and cast long golden streaks across the shore, something shifted again. They were lounging in their usual place, with her back to his chest, and his limbs lazily cradling her body like he couldn't help but touch her, because he couldn’t. They’d been speaking in soft tones, his voice low and gravelly near her ear, threading sweet nothings into her skin between slow kisses to her shoulder and jaw.

But then, one venturing limb strayed. A slow, absent-minded movement at first, but it grazed the damp fabric of her underwear, an area he’d deliberately avoided. He’d known touching her there would be different. Too much. He could already smell her arousal when she was near, taste it in the air. But direct contact? It sent a violent rush of sensations through his body, like being plunged into a current he couldn’t fight. Her warmth soaked into his cups, and he froze against her, with his lips parted, and his breath suddenly shallow.

He stopped mid-whisper, clenching his fingers on her waist as his whole body tensed behind her. Her scent and taste, so much stronger now, filled his head like salt and honey and heat. And then she moved. Just a little. A subtle shift. Her thighs parted ever so slightly, angling her hips toward the limb still resting where it shouldn't be.

The invitation was quiet and devastating.

He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. His body moved before he had the chance to reason with it. His limbs tightened around her like a trap of velvet and steel, pulling her flush against him. Another tendril snaked low, slipping beneath the edge of her damp underwear with unerring precision, seeking the heat of her skin. The contact was electric. Her breath hitched, and she curled her fingers around the limb at her waist, not to push him away, not guiding him either. But her thighs stayed parted, and her body pliant in his hold.

A low, guttural sound rumbled from his chest as his lips found the side of her neck, open-mouthed and burning. He didn’t kiss so much as taste, drag his teeth along her pulse like a warning. His cups latched on tender skin, drawing slow, coaxing pulls, tasting her salt, her sun-warmed scent, the spike in her heartbeat that was desire, not fear.

He was unraveling.

His kind didn’t go slow. Didn’t take care. Not like this. And yet here he was, trembling with restraint and still failing, still losing control.

He pinned her. One arm around her middle, another limb curling over her thigh to hold her open, his slick skin pulsing against her core. The tip of a tentacle pressed forward again, slow and reverent. Her breath came out ragged. One more second and-

No.

With a strained, frustrated hiss, he tore himself away. Every limb uncoiled at once, releasing her like she burned him. He dropped low, twisting to the surf with a wild motion, and was gone, vanishing into the sea like a dark shape slipping between waves.

She sat up slowly, dazed, with her skin marked with the memory of his touch, and her chest rising and falling in a shaky rhythm. The place where he had held her felt suddenly empty, and her body was left thrumming with unfinished need.

She stayed there on the rocks long after he vanished into the sea. Her skin still tingled where he’d held her, where his cups had tasted, where his breath had scorched the base of her neck. It hadn’t frightened her, his strength, the way his instincts had flared. If anything, it had stirred something deep and primal, a mirrored longing in her own blood. But he had pulled back. For her. For his word. And though her body ached with the echo of what almost was, her chest ached more with understanding. He feared what he could do to her. And yet… she wasn’t afraid.

----

The next day, she finished up orders. Packed, labeled, and stacked the boxes that had to go out before the week was over. Her fingers worked purposefully, but her mind wandered to the shore. To him. To the way he almost lost control, to the moment they said “another day” they would speak.

Today was another day. And frankly, she was tired of circling the edges of something that had already been decided.

So when the tide began its slow afternoon retreat, and the sky shifted to the soft golds of the early evening, she made a decision. She grabbed a snack, tucked a bottle of water into her pack -and, why pretend?- stuffed a small blanket inside too. Just in case.

She changed into a dress that hit just above the knees, a breezy thing that left her legs free and bare to the touch of the wind… or curious tendrils. Her cheeks warmed just at the thought.

Then, before heading out, she paused by the shelf near the window and picked up the bracelet she’d made months ago. A simple band, crocheted leather strips, with one of the flat, spiraled conches he had gifted her woven into the center. She hadn’t worn it before. Not yet.

She tied it around her wrist and stared at her reflection for a moment. Then she smiled -a little foolish, a little excited- and stepped out into the sea breeze.

----

She didn’t even bother to sit in her usual spot by the rocks. Her mind was too loud, and her body too restless. The moment she arrived, she walked straight to the mouth of the cave with a hammering heart, and her eyes adjusting to the softened light streaming down from the stone chimneys above the place.

“Bucky?” she called, once. Then again.

His voice came from behind her, low and calm. “Didn’t expect you. You weren’t on your rock earlier.”

She spun with a startled yelp, clutching her chest. “You almost killed me.”

He only snorted, and his eyes glinted with mild amusement as he rolled them at her. He leaned back against the damp rock wall, resting his arms behind him, with his body half-floating in the pool. Tendrils swayed lazily with the motion of the water, catching the scattered light like ribbons of ink.

“Had things to do,” she said, trying to slow her heartbeat. “I don’t hunt my food, remember? I have to work to go buy it.”

He quirked a brow, with something unreadable flickering in his gaze as he watched her approach. She moved toward him slowly and sat on one of the dryer rocks near the pool’s edge, tucking her legs beside her.

“I came to talk,” she announced.

“You always talk,” he deadpanned.

“Ha ha. Very funny,” she rolled her eyes, but smiled. “You know what I mean.”

He nodded, slowly, with a guarded expression. “Yeah. I do.” He was about to bring up what happened the day before, but his eyes flicked to her wrist and lingered there. His gaze locked on the bracelet, on the spiral of the conch he'd given her long ago. Woven now with care into leather and worn like something meant to stay.

He didn’t say anything at first, but she watched how the tension subtly shifted across his chest. One of his tendrils stilled mid-motion in the water, then curled inward, like it was thinking.

“You made that,” he finally said, quiet and almost disbelieving.

“Yeah,” she said, suddenly self-conscious. “Months ago, actually. I just… didn’t wear it until now.”

His gaze dragged back up to hers, slower this time. There was something raw in the look he gave her, like that simple gesture had undone some tightly wound thing inside him.

“I noticed,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “It suits you.”

And then, a little quieter, like it escaped before he could stop it: “You kept it.”

“How couldn’t I?” she said, almost like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Her fingers grazed the bracelet. “You gifted it to me.”

Something shifted in him. She saw it. His chest expanded with a silent inhale, and a swirl of pride flickered behind his gaze. Subtle, but unmistakable. That she’d kept it. That she wore it, out in the open, where others could see. She hadn’t just accepted the token; she’d chosen to display it, to carry him with her.

He wetted his lips unconsciously, and without a word, began gliding toward her. The water cradled his body in flowing movements, as his limbs trailed behind like dark ribbons. When he reached the edge of the rock she sat on, he braced himself against it, folding his arms along the rim and resting his weight there. Close, but not quite touching.

His tendrils twitched beneath the surface, brushing the stone, aching to reach for her. But he held back.

“So… yesterday,” she began, her voice was a bit tentative as she smoothed her hands over the front of her dress. “We- well, you know.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You yielded to me.”

She huffed a laugh. “Is that what you call it? I wasn’t exactly resisting, you know.”

“It is what it’s called,” he replied with a hint of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Even when the female is willing and courts us first, she resists before the final moment. It’s… instinct.”

She blinked. “Why resist?”

“Because,” he said simply, “even if we carry the mark of aptitude, they still need to test our strength. To see for themselves what we’re capable of. Whether we’re worthy of strong offspring.”

There was no shame in his tone. No pride either, just fact.

She frowned as she tried to imagine it. “So there’s violence involved?”

“Some,” he admitted. “Until they yield. Until they accept.”

“Oh my god,” she muttered, shaking her head. “No offense, but that doesn’t sound very… nice.”

He shrugged one shoulder, water rippling with the motion. “Nature isn’t always nice.”

She blinked, processing that with wide eyes. “That’s… intense.”

His eyes didn’t leave her face. “It’s instinct. But we’re not only instinct.” His voice dropped a little. “Not always.”

Her hand found the edge of her dress again, smoothing the fabric over her thigh. “So… when I accepted, it wasn’t the same. I didn’t resist. I didn’t fight you.”

“No,” he said, with a slowness that bordered on reverent. “You considered me apt.”

He didn’t say what that meant to him, but she could see it. In the way his pupils dilated, in the subtle way his shoulders dropped, in tension bleeding out of his body, in the small movement of a tendril that came close to her foot, hovering there, trembling slightly, before withdrawing again.

“You’re not… disappointed by that?” she asked, quieter now.

He leaned in closer, resting his chin on his crossed arms, as the water lapped softly against the stone between them. “I wouldn’t have touched you if you’d fought me,” he said, honest and firm. “I wouldn’t have wanted to. You’re human, not like the females of my kind. If you’d resisted… it would be because you weren’t interested. And that you chose me…” He exhaled through his nose. “It means more.”

There was a moment of silence between them, charged and delicate. Then she smiled softly, leaning a little closer, just enough that her knee brushed his arm.

“Good,” she said in barely above a whisper. “Because I meant it.”

He sighed deeply, and the sound echoed faintly off the damp stone walls of the cave. One hand raked through his hair, slicking his damp strands back as he gathered himself. The water beaded along his skin, catching the fading light in the cave.

“I…” he started in a low voice. “I’ve been drawn to you since the autumn days. Since you first started coming here. It has nothing to do with what’s happening to me now.”

Her chest felt lighter with something close to relief. Without thinking, she reached out to take his hand, but he shook his head gently, stopping her.

“Please don’t touch me. Not until we talk.” His voice cracked just a little, betraying the strain. “It’s not easy for me.”

She curled her fingers back into her lap, nodding slowly. “Alright.”

His shoulders relaxed just barely at her understanding.

“I want to try what you do. What your kind does for bonding, to last, to share things. It’s not something purely sexual.” His gaze lifted to hers, raw and hungry and full of intent. “Still, I desire you. I want to mate with you. To make you mine, and no one else’s.”

Of all the confessions she might’ve expected, it wasn’t that, at least not said like that. With that kind of depth. Warmth bloomed in her chest, fierce and radiant, and she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips.

But then, his expression shifted.

“But…” he looked away. “I won’t trick you. You deserve to know what I am. What I’ve done.”

She nodded slowly, leaning forward without thinking, as if her body was reaching to understand before her mind could catch up.

“About... eighty winters ago,” he began, in a low voice, almost guttural, “far away from here, I was captured. Tricked by a human man who pretended to be my friend.”

His expression went somber, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. Her breath stilled.

“I was... naïve back then. Trusting. I thought the stories they told us -to stay away from the land, from humans- were exaggerations. I believed we somehow could coexist.” He paused and clenched his jaw. “Until we couldn’t.”

His eyes darkened with memory. “One night, I came to see him... and what I found was a group of men waiting for me. They overwhelmed me. Weakened me with harpoons and bound me. Then they dragged me into a ship like some cursed trophy.”

She drew in a sharp breath, horrified, but she didn’t interrupt, pressing her fingers hard into the stone beneath her instead.

“I was probed. Studied like a thing. And I was awake for it.” His voice cracked there, but he pushed on. “They... broke me. Rearranged me. Then... they used magic -something ancient, dark- to twist my mind. To bend my will.”

His voice was hollow now, haunted.

It was the first time she’d heard of magic being real. But she couldn’t question it, not when he sat there before her, a real and breathing myth, scarred from things she couldn't even begin to imagine.

“That’s... terribly painful and hard-”

“I’ve killed people.” His voice snapped through the air like a whip, silencing her.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Countless men,” he went on, looking not at her, but through her. “And... my kind too. I was made to fight. To hunt. To destroy. And I did.”

He swallowed, and the motion looked thick and pained. “That is why I was attacked. Because of what I did, because I was one of them for too long.” He didn’t move. Didn’t look at her. Just waited. Braced himself.

And she -heart pounding, emotions torn between anguish, fury, and an ache she couldn’t name- still didn’t back away.

"How... how did you get free?" she murmured, her voice barely more than breath.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and the silence stretched before he answered. “Spent twenty winters under their control. Until a friend man-hunted me and cut me loose.”

Her brows furrowed. “A friend?”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, and his fingers clenched slightly on the edge of the rock. “I told you that my kind doesn’t bond. We’re proud, isolated. Weakness is despised. But... Steve and I were together since we were pups.”

He finally looked at her. “He was so small. So weak. Couldn’t have survived those first independent years on his own. And I... I don’t know. I couldn’t just leave him. It felt wrong. So I stayed with him.”

Her chest clenched at the image of a young Bucky, already protective, already different.

“We stuck together most of the time. He got stronger. Better. There was a witch involved in that,” he added with a flicker of disdain, “but it wasn’t my business. He didn’t ask for my opinion anyway, hot-headed as he was.”

She gave him a soft, understanding smile. “And... where is this friend now?”

He hesitated. The word friend seemed to sting.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “He mated a human woman. Chose to live among them.”

Something brittle and old bled into his tone.

“I was hurt. Felt betrayed. After what they did to me, what they made me become... he chose to be with a landwalker. Right after freeing me.”

His jaw tensed, and his lips curled slightly in frustration. “I was thankful. But angry, too. So angry.” he admitted. "I distanced myself from him, the only one who gave a shit to bring me back and not just put me down. But the feeling of betrayal was stronger. I was... broken. In more than one sense."

Her heart twisted at his confession. So much pain, layered over time like the rings of a wounded tree. She knelt down at the edge of the pool, and reached out without hesitation. Screw the warning from earlier.

"Who could blame you for that?” she murmured, folding her arms around his damp shoulders. “You suffered too much. You can rationalize it now, but at the time... you were raw.”

He stiffened under her touch, and every muscle in his back went tense. But he didn’t pull away.

She pressed her cheek to the crown of his head, and his breath hitched once against his crossed arms, his face still hidden from her. He stayed like that, tense, quiet.

Then slowly, as if it took a great effort, as if some part of him was still waiting to be punished for being vulnerable, his other limbs responded. Tentacles slithered up around her waist and lower back, coiling loosely, cautiously. Not to hold her in place, not to restrain, but to seek. To self-soothe.

He didn’t speak again. Just let himself be enveloped by her arms. Let himself rest, for a moment, in the warmth of someone who didn’t flinch.

Eventually, he found his voice. “Now you know what I did. You can turn back. Leave. Despise me, if you want. It wasn’t fair to let you be with me without the truth.”

She didn’t flinch or loosen her arms from around him.

“Why would I despise you?” she asked softly, pulling back just enough to see him. “Look at me. Hey,” her hand brushed the damp strands of hair from his temple, coaxing him gently, “let me see your pretty eyes.”

He scoffed -more out of habit than defiance- but he lifted his head anyway, meeting her gaze with a reluctant flicker. There was a storm behind his irises, old and violent, but he let her see it.

She cradled his face, grazing his cheeks with her thumbs.

“You were a victim,” she said firmly. “They made you do things you wouldn’t have done if you’d had a choice. I do not think less of you because of what you told me.”

Her voice wavered, but her eyes didn’t. “If anything… it takes courage. To carry it. To speak it. And to tell me, give me the choice to know something you could’ve easily hidden forever? That’s not something a coward does. That’s someone who respects me. Someone I… care about.”

His breath caught, and his tentacles shifted slightly around her, like they were trying to pull back, but couldn’t quite let go.

“I know you think you’re too broken to be wanted,” she murmured. “But you’re not. Not to me. I don’t see a monster when I look at you, Bucky. I see someone who survived. Someone who protects. Someone who still knows how to care.”

He blinked slowly, as if her words took a second longer to reach his mind through all the layers of shame and pain. The weight behind his gaze didn’t lift, but it softened.

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead gently against his. “I still want you. That hasn’t changed.”

His arms didn’t move, still crossed tightly over the edge of the rock, but one of his tendrils coiled slowly up her spine, tentative in its touch. “…You’re not scared of me,” he said at last, barely more than a whisper.

“I’m not,” she answered. “I trust you.”

He closed his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders bled out by degrees. Then, in a voice edged with something old and bitter, he said, “There were moments I thought I’d never speak again. Never be seen again. But then you came here… and sat on that rock every day like I was just an equal in a cave and not a thing swimming in shadows.”

His lashes lifted, and his eyes searched her face. Then, with a slow breath, he pushed himself upright.

Water slid down from his torso in long, smooth rivulets, and his damp hair clung to his temples and neck as he turned and eased himself onto the flat rock beside her. He moved slowly, like he didn’t want to spook her, though his limbs remained loosely coiled around her hips and lower back, more by instinct than intent now. A tactile confirmation she was still close, and still his, even if only in this fragile, flickering moment.

Before he could speak -before he could thank her or tell her what she’d just given him- she leaned back slightly.

Just enough.

Her teeth caught her lower lip, and holding his gaze with purpose, she tilted her head, baring her throat in invitation.

A heartbeat passed.

His pupils dilated instantly, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply, sharply, drawn forward by the sudden clarity of her scent, wanting, open.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“…You’re doing that on purpose,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint.

She didn’t look away. “Yes.”

His tendrils twitched, curling tighter for a breath before easing again, their grips were gentle but possessive.

“I said I wouldn’t rush you,” he murmured, with his eyes locked on her exposed neck “but… you're making it very hard.”

His hand finally reached for her, slowly, brushing the hair from her shoulder as he leaned in -not to touch with his mouth, not yet- but to breathe her in again, filling himself with her essence.

Bucky inhaled again, and his eyes fluttered half-closed as her scent bloomed around him. Then came his teeth' soft, sharp click, an unconscious sound of instinct and want.

He drew back just enough to meet her gaze with a hooded and serious expression.

And then -slowly- he turned his head and lifted his chin, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat to her. The tendons shifted beneath his damp skin, and the pulse was faintly visible just beneath the surface. She moved without hesitation.

Leaning in, she mirrored his gesture, lifting her chin and echoing what he'd just done. Her lips hovered near his jaw, not quite touching, but her intention was unmistakable. Her acceptance was not passive.

Bucky’s eyes burned with heat, his entire body was tense with desire and control, the coils of his limbs flexing around her waist, her thighs.

And then, her hand rose.

She didn’t go for his face or chest. She reached instead for his arm, brushing her fingertips over the intricate tattoos swirling across it. The marks were dark and sinuous, almost alive under the dim light, telling a story she had yet to learn. Her touch was reverent, following the curves and lines with slow, deliberate pressure, circling her thumb over a spiraled sigil inked with a star in its center.

Bucky stiffened, and a tremor coursed through his limbs.

“You know what you’re doing,” he wanted to confirm, his voice thick and low.

“I do,” she whispered, eyes never leaving his. Her touch slid further over his marked skin, splaying her fingers over the spiraling designs, warmly and sure.

He pressed closer, clenching his arms around her, with his chest nearly brushing hers now. One of his tendrils curled behind her knee, not yet demanding, just present.

“Then you know what comes next,” he murmured.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she breathed. “And I want this. I want you.”

He groaned low in his throat, and the sound vibrated against her cheek, as his mouth found hers in the next breath with no hesitation, no tentative brush of lips. And his limbs -no longer restrained- finally explored her as they had longed to. Tendrils slid beneath the hem of her dress, curling around her thighs with reverent pressure, mapping every inch of skin.

She gasped into the kiss, gripping his shoulders as his touch coaxed a tremble from her legs.

Then he pulled back slightly, just enough to speak against her mouth, his breath hot and uneven. “This attire is... conveniently made,” he muttered, brushing the edge of the fabric with a smirk in his tone.

She huffed a soft laugh. “How perceptive of you,” she teased, grazing his lips as she spoke.

His grin was a flash of white teeth, brief and crooked, before he captured her mouth again, rougher now, more claiming.

The tendrils on her thighs caressed with unhurried confidence, coaxing her knees further apart as one traced the sensitive inside of her leg. Another curled around her waist, pulling her flush against the firm plane of his body.

Everything about him enveloped her: his heat, his scent, his voice, low and gruff in the moments their lips parted for air. One of his hands braced against the stone, the other cradled the back of her head, and still, his limbs kept moving, pulling reactions from her that made his pupils blow wide with hunger.

“Say it again,” he breathed into the curve of her neck. “Say you want me.”

“I want you,” she repeated, without a shred of doubt.

His limbs moved with growing confidence now, sure in their purpose. Two of them slid higher underneath her dress, teasing along the hem of her undergarments, while others coiled around her waist and shoulders, holding her gently but firmly in place.

She shivered against him, not from fear, but anticipation.

Another tendril, slick and warm, brushed up her spine beneath the dress, making her arch with a gasp. He used the movement to pull the fabric upward. The dress peeled away, gathered slowly above her hips, then over her head as one limb coaxed her arms up while another tugged the garment free.

He pulled back just far enough to look at her bare before him with nothing but the bracelet on her wrist and a flimsy cloth over her sex. His pupils were blown wide, and his chest rose in shallow pants as he took her in.

“I dreamed of this,” he confessed, in a hoarse voice, “Of you. Like this.”

She touched the edge of his jaw, brushing the corner of his mouth with her thumb. “Then don’t wait. I’m right here.”

That undid him.

Tendrils slid down her sides, curving to trace the lines of her waist and her thighs. One hooked beneath the last scrap of fabric between them and tugged slowly -teasingly- down, baring her completely to him, and for a beat, he just looked. She was breathing heavily beneath the curl of his limbs, and when his gaze fell to her chest, he stilled completely.

Slowly, as though touching something sacred, one of his limbs rose and coiled gently beneath her breast, lifting the soft weight into his grasp. It filled his grip in a way that made his throat tighten, and awe and hunger tangled inside his chest. His other limb followed, mirroring the shape, reverently wrapping around it, cups pulsing softly against her skin as they explored the warmth and texture.

She gasped when he touched her nipples -sensitive, already peaked- and his entire body responded to the sound. One of the cups latched gently, suckling with a subtle, exploratory pull.

Her eyes flew open. “It feels like you’re… like your mouth is sucking on it,” she moaned, breath catching on the words.

He plucked at the stiffened peak again with more intention this time, watching, feeling her react, seeing how her body arched into his grasp, how her scent sharpened with each motion. His pulse thudded in his ears, and his limbs were trembling with restraint as her thighs shifted and parted beneath him.

When he slid a limb down to test between them, it came away wet, soaked in her desire. Her taste, carried in the fluid that filled his cups, made him reel. He groaned low in his throat, a raw, unguarded sound.

Then, bolder, he plucked the other nipple between his cups as her moans spilled freely.

Her lips parted on a sigh, and her eyelids fluttered low when his tentacle returned to that place between her legs, rubbing with slow, deliberate pressure against the sensitive folds. The slick heat, and when his cups grazed a small, firm nub tucked just above her entrance, her body jolted like he’d struck lightning beneath her skin.

She wanted to touch him back, show him what she felt, drag her fingers down his body, trace the hard line of his jaw, kiss the shell of his ear, but she couldn’t. He was everywhere. Beneath her, around her, holding her firm with strength that somehow managed to be gentle. Each movement, each probing touch, each curious flick of his suckers pulled another soft moan from her lips.

The cups latched on instinct, closing over that pearl-like flesh, tugging gently, then more insistently with each pass. Her reaction nearly unraveled him. She arched, shuddered in his grasp, her thighs trembled around his limbs. She grabbed his forearms with a desperate grip, as if she might fall apart without him holding her, though he never would’ve let her.

Hard, quick gasps poured from her lips with every pull of his cups. Her hips twitched before she could stop them, trying to follow the source of that delicious tugging pressure, and he felt it all, through the taste in his mouth, the grip of her fingers, the slickness against his limbs.

He tilted his head, puzzled, fascinated. “What is that?” he asked, lifting her slightly with his limbs to get a clearer look at the glistening bundle of nerves nestled between the soft folds of her sex.

She groaned, covering her face with both hands. It was far too late to be shy, but the gesture was instinctive. “That’s… that’s my clit,” she mumbled from behind her fingers.

He blinked. “What is its purpose?” His voice was curious, gentle even, as his fingers replaced the cups and stroked it carefully.

She flinched,  “Um- it’s… it’s for pleasure. Just pleasure,” she managed to say, as her hips chase the contact without her control.

His breath hitched. That concept -just pleasure- made him freeze in awe. “We… don’t have anything like this,” he murmured, almost reverently. “Everything we have… it serves a function. This… this is only for you?”

She nodded, slowly lowering her hands from her face to meet his gaze. “Yeah. It’s sensitive. It… feels good when touched.”

His pupils were wide, blown with wonder and something much darker. “Then I want to learn everything about it.”

Before she could answer, he eased her back onto the mossy, softened stone beside the water. The cool air kissed her bare skin, and he was right there, around her again, his limbs braced to either side, one still coiled beneath her back, another curling around her calf. The others, she couldn’t keep track anymore. One was wrapped gently around her breast, another smoothing over her waist, her hip, her belly, and lower.

He kissed her thigh without warning.

"Just like a clam", he commented as he spread her lower lips with his thumbs, "a clam and its precious pearl."

"Never thought about it like that" she chuckled, but was interrupted by a moan when he circled her clit with his lips and sucked, tracing his tongue along her slit after satisfying his curiousness.

Then he had an idea. He leaned back and lifted her, almost sitting her on the cradle of his tentacles, and grasped the back of her neck, tilting her head up to make her look at him. Then, one of his limbs slide back between her legs to nestle on her mound, and used a cup to suckle at her clit intently.

"Oh my god" her voice trembled as her hips ground shamelessly against his appendage.

His gaze was dark, enjoying every shift of her blissful expression for the pleasure he was giving her. He. No other.

"I'm- don't stop" she whined, and he tilted his head again.

"You what, mate?" he asked, still having her by the neck, forcing her to look at him through hooded eyes.

"I'm going to cum" she breathed.

He touched one of his canines with his tongue and then clicked his teeth. The words were foreign to him, but he understood their meaning. "Show me then. Show me what I do to you," he murmured, going further, sliding the tip of his tendril inside her wet heat in tandem as the cups kept suckling on her. Her body tensed, and her lips parted in a silent scream as the orgasm hit her, clenching around his limb, clawing his shoulders, arching her back in an impossible angle as the wave of pleasure made her tremble under his touch.

Her head lolled forward, resting on his shoulder, and her breath came in soft, broken bursts against his damp skin as her body slowly relaxed in his grasp. His tentacles cradled her like something precious, but they were twitching now, with restraint, with want.

Bucky exhaled through his nose, heavy and shaky. He pressed a kiss to her temple, lingering there for a moment as if centering himself.

"I pleased you," he murmured, low and hoarse, his voice vibrating against her skin. “You came apart in my arms. Let me see it, feel it. You gave that to me.”

His hand, large and warm, settled at the small of her back. The limbs encircling her shifted with less grace and more urgency now, tightening slightly, drawing her closer.

"My body…" he started, pausing, jaw clenching as if trying to hold himself back one last time. His gaze flicked down to where their bodies pressed together, then up to meet her eyes, dark and searching. "I need to mate with you, now. I’ve waited, held back, but- It hurts to keep it inside.”

One of his limbs slid slowly along her spine, not to tease but to soothe, to keep her present. “You said yes. You chose me. And now my whole body is calling to answer that choice.”

From the haze of pleasure still coursing through her body, she blinked slowly, registering the slight tremble in his voice, in his hold. She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb across the high arc of his cheekbone.

“It hurts… to keep it inside?” she asked softly, almost wondering.

He nuzzled faintly into her palm, like the simple touch soothed something primal. “I didn’t want to scare you,” he admitted, a little gravel in his voice now. “So I held it in.”

“Oh.” Her brows drew in gently. “Oh, you mean your… okay. So, it’s inside you?”

“Yes,” he nodded slowly, pupils blown wide and locked on her. “It… grows when I’m aroused, like a human male’s. But it’s concealed. Normally, one just…” he hesitated, then made a gesture, vague but suggestive, like something unfurling. “Just let it out. But-”

“You didn’t want to scare me,” she finished for him.

He gave a barely-there nod.

There was a pause.

“Should I?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper now. “Be scared?”

His eyes flicked to hers. “It shouldn’t hurt,” he answered honestly. “I think. But it’s… different. Not like what you’ve known or seen.”

She smiled, small and sure. “You’re not like what I’ve known or seen either,” she said, tracing her fingers along his skin. “But that didn’t stop me from choosing you.”

He made that low sound again, a rumble that seemed to rise from the depths of his chest and echoed softly off the cave walls, vibrating through the water between them. His grip on her softened, but tension still prevailed in his body like a storm barely held back.

And then… something shifted.

Just beneath the sculpted lines of his abdomen, down the center of his Adonis belt, she saw a movement, a hidden seam parting with organic grace. It unfurled with a subtle flex, almost like how some mollusks opened under sunlight. And then, without warning, there it was.

He had wanted to reveal it slowly. To give her time. But his restraint had burned to cinders the moment she told him she trusted him. That she wanted him. The moment she climaxed in his arms. There was no holding back now, not with the fire coursing through his veins and her scent heavy on his skin.

She stared, with her lips slightly parted. It wasn’t grotesque or monstrous. Just… different. The same black and blue patterns of his limbs trailed over the shaft, the surface gleaming faintly like polished shell and velvet. Not exactly human, not exactly beast. Thick and ridged in places, with a subtle pulse that told her he was very much alive with want.

Definitely not in the small category. But it wasn’t disheartening. In fact, it sparked something else entirely.

She bit her lip. “Can I touch it?”

He didn’t speak. Just clenched his jaw, and a muscle twitched near his temple. But he nodded once, deliberately, with his eyes fixed on her every move like a predator.

Her hand reached forward, slow but sure, grazing the ridged surface with her fingertips. It twitched in response, and so did he, every muscle in his body going tense as if her touch sent lightning down his spine.

“God,” she whispered, brushing down its length, marveling at its weight and heat. “You really were holding back.” She stated, looking at him while giving a tentative squeeze.

He didn’t smile. Not this time.

“Is it… of your liking?” The question came low, strained, like it cost him something to ask. He wasn’t just teasing or fishing for praise. He was uncertain, genuinely. And she could tell that wasn’t something that happened often. He’d spent a life being feared or desired, and now… he was asking her, the one person he trusted, if this part of him -this exposed, vulnerable part- was acceptable.

Her eyes dropped again to the hard, pulsing length that stood rigid between them, black and blue like his limbs, ridged in a way no human man could ever be. She could see why he’d worry.

It was definitely different. But it wasn’t frightening. Not to her. She didn’t stop touching him. Her fingers explored gently, tracing the contours, watching the way his breath hitched and his jaw clenched tighter. The ridges, texture, and subtle shift in her palm were unfamiliar, but not frightening. Actually… it reminded her of a night, long ago, giggling tipsy with a friend, scrolling through some ridiculously NSFW novelty site and stopping on a selection of fantasy dildos. Some textured like tentacles, some curved or ridged. Some of them… kind of hot.

And this one? Real. Warm. Alive.

“I think it's beautiful. You are beautiful. I find it-” She hesitated, then bit her lip and met his eyes again, trying -and failing- to wrap her hand gently around him. “I wonder how it would feel inside me.”

His pupils dilated instantly, the ocean-blue swallowed in black. His tentacles shifted around her hips, drawing her in unconsciously, as if her words triggered a primal response in him he could no longer suppress. His throat worked around a groan, and one of his hands came up to cradle her cheek with reverent care.

“You want to find out?” he asked, with a low, wrecked voice, barely holding control.

She didn’t answer, not with words. She leaned into his hand, brushing her lips over the rough pad of his thumb before kissing the center of his palm. That was enough. That was more than enough.

And then he moved.

His limbs shifted, cradling her body, circling her waist and her thighs. She gasped softly, and her hands instinctively flew to his shoulders for balance, but there was no real danger of falling. He was everywhere. Beneath her, around her, holding her like she was already part of him.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, like a vow, even as his pupils stayed blown wide. “Unless you ask me not to.”

He spread her legs farther, and his mating shaft brushed up the soft skin of her inner thigh before guiding himself with his hand, rubbing against her slick and probing at her entrance. She whimpered as he stretched her with his engorged tip, and he froze, staring at her face for a sign that she wanted him to back off. Maybe his limb wasn’t enough to prepare her for what was coming.

Her eyes fluttered open when he stopped moving. “Please, don’t stop.” She pleaded.

So he didn’t, instead pushing all his length inside her, feeling something in the process he had no parallel for. Mating with his kind had been nothing like this, maybe because she was smaller in size. He retreated and pushed again, and again, as her fingers clawed at his arms and her moans and whimpers grew more frantic. This time, he had no doubts about the sounds she was making, especially since she whispered the words deeper, and more as he pushed into her.

Her hips swayed with his thrusts, and she already felt another orgasm building embarrassingly fast. He kept tugging at her clit and nipples like sucking kisses, at compass with his cock that stretched her deliciously with every drag. His limbs clenched around her body, creeping across her skin, and leaving little marks in their wake. It was an indescribable feeling that was so erotic that she couldn’t speak, beyond begging him in barely coherent words not to stop.

He pulled her closer to his body so her chest was against his, so she grasped one of his shoulders more firmly and leaned forward to kiss and lick the strong column of his neck, and he moaned. She decided she wanted to hear that again, so she nipped softly at his pulse point, which resulted in another moan and a harder thrust that made her cry out.

Suction cups kissed her trembling inner thighs, adding to the overwhelming sensations, and more of them stroked over her waist. One wandering limb prodded at the tight hole next to where his mating shaft pumped inside her. She shivered as he explored, not making any move to stop him until he pressed too deeply inside. He stopped as soon as he felt her tense, and moved away to trail light suction kisses up her back instead.

She nipped at his neck again, a teasing bite just below his ear, and the sound he made in response was feral. A low, guttural growl that vibrated through his chest and straight into her pussy. His fingers tangled in her hair in a possessive fist, tugging her head gently but firmly to the side, baring her neck.

Then his mouth was there, hot and open over her pulse, where it thundered beneath the skin. He licked once, slow and deliberate, before closing his teeth over the spot in warning. His breath was ragged, lips brushing her skin as he spoke.

“Want to mark me, mate?” he asked, voice thick and raw.

The way he said mate spiked her desire.

“Because I want to mark you. I’m going to mark you, so everyone knows-” he changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting deeper inside her, making her scream, “that you are taken, and only respond to me.” Her moans and whimpers echoed inside the cave, and the wet sound of her body being obscenely ravaged filled their ears.

Then he bit her.

Not hard. Not cruelly. His canines extended just enough to sink into the flesh where her neck met her shoulder, right at the place where instinct screamed and trust made her melt.

The pain was barely there, more like pressure followed by a dizzying, radiant burst of pleasure that licked through every nerve ending of her body. Her breath caught in her throat. Her thighs clenched instinctively. A moan escaped her lips before she could stop it, digging her fingers into his back as her body tightened hard and rhythmically on his cock. The feeling of her pulsing heat dragging him deeper and deeper like heartbeats, and the taste of her marked flesh against his mouth, was overwhelming. He thrusted one last time inside her and followed her climax, pouring his hot, thick load deep inside her in pulsing waves. The sensation of her inner walls milking him, coaxing out every last drop of his seed, sent him into a frenzy of post-orgasmic bliss.

He stayed there, buried as far as he could go inside her, with his softening cock plugging all his sperm within her body. His mouth kept latched onto her neck like he was branding her with something more than teeth.  

With a gentle lift, he carefully extracted his cock from her still-clenching heat, and a small river of seed followed suit. He watched, captivated, as it copiously dribbled down her thighs. His body still trembled with aftershocks, but his voice was a low, satisfied growl.

“You wear me now,” he mumbled, flicking his tongue out to taste the spot on her neck once more. “No one will come near you. Not with this on you.”

She let out a breathless laugh, resting her cheek against the broad expanse of his chest. “No one, hm?” she murmured, tracing her fingers idly along the edge of his collarbone. “Are you referring to your kind?”

The muscles beneath her shifted. His grip around her waist clenched just enough to make her gasp softly, and a hiss escaped through his teeth, sharp and instinctive.

“No one.” His voice left no room for ambiguity.

She tilted her head to look at him, eyes still heavy-lidded with afterglow, but her tone had a teasing lilt. “So mating season made you more possessive.”

His eyes flicked to hers, and something flashed in them. Acknowledgment, maybe, or the faintest trace of guilt. He didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. Not when every part of him was still vibrating with the primal satisfaction of claiming her, of feeling her body still warm and pliant against him, filled with him, marked by him.

“But you understand I have to socialize in my world, don’t you?” she added, softer now, one hand reaching up to brush back his damp hair from his brow.

He tensed again. Subtly, but she felt it. Something primal in him bristled at the thought, the very idea of her walking around among others, vulnerable in a place where he couldn’t always be with her.

But he also knew. Knew she wasn’t his to keep in some cave or tidepool. Knew that what they shared only worked because it was chosen, not forced.

He drew in a breath, slow and deliberate, and pressed his forehead to hers. His voice, when it came, was roughened by restraint. “I know. I don’t like it... but I know.”

She smiled then, warm and open, and he focused on that. On her scent clinging to his skin. On the mark, pulsing gently at her neck. On the heat of her body, still pressed to him.

----

He was perched semi-upright against the cave wall, half-sitting, half-reclining with her settled between his limbs. Her back was pressed to his chest, and his arms and tendrils draped around her like he was still afraid she might drift away. The blanket she’d pulled from her backpack was now wrapped loosely around them. His limbs hadn’t ceased their attention; even in the calm, they continued exploring, fondling lazily her thighs, trailing over her hips, giving little affectionate tugs with the suction cups that made her shiver from time to time.

Twilight had crept in almost unnoticed. The deeper parts of the cave were cloaked in shadow now, and the ocean outside was a distant hush of sound against the stone.

“The tide will start rising in a couple of hours,” she murmured, finding his fingers with her own and squeezing gently. “I already can’t see a thing… you’ll probably have to guide me out or I’ll land on my ass four times before reaching the exit.” she tried to joke.

He tensed behind her, and she could feel it, not just in the way his chest rose with a sharp breath, but in the shift of the limbs tensed around her. Her words, so casually spoken, reminded him of something he hadn’t wanted to think about. That eventually… she would leave. That their perfect little moment, suspended in warmth and skin and breath, would end.

A low sigh escaped his lips, and with a subtle flick of his wrist, six soft blue orbs rose into the air, like glowing will-o’-the-wisps. They hovered above and around them, casting a gentle illumination over the cave walls, their skin, and their closeness.

She gasped, and her eyes widened at the soft lights flickering to life. “You didn’t tell me you could do that.”

“You never asked,” he said with dry amusement.

She gave him a look. “You can do more magic, then?”

He shook his head slightly. “No. We all can- more or less. It’s not magic. It’s a hunting trick for the depths. To lure prey.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said, still marveling.

“And dangerous,” he countered softly.

She rolled her eyes, then turned her face up slightly to press her cheek to his jaw. “Doesn’t make it less beautiful.”

He hummed, low in his throat. One of his limbs slid lazily along her leg beneath the blanket, his suction cups giving a gentle tug against her skin like he couldn’t bear to let her forget him, not even for a second. “Dangerous things are often the most captivating,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to her shoulder where his mark now pulsed faintly. “You proved that.” She tilted her head back slightly to glance up at him, and despite the low light, she caught the glimmer in his eyes, not just desire this time, but something warmer.

The orbs pulsed softly, casting shadows along the walls, and the tide sang its distant lullaby. The real world was creeping back in, but for a moment longer, they stayed in their own.

Next Chapter

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[mongoosingisme]

Hi, hello.

All this recent talk about Shane coded songs made me think about Harvey a bit. I’m of the opinion that he’d be a fan of the Decemberists, and from that thought came what has got to be the most self-indulgent little thing I’ve ever written.

Look below the cut for some SFW fluff.

Contains: domesticity and conversations best suited for those of us whose musical tastes crystallized in the 2006 indie folk scene.

Harvey had a vinyl collection. It was endearing, his dedication to physical media. Mostly jazz albums, smooth and smoky, all warm and rich through his speakers.

You weren’t much for jazz. He had some other options too, but you weren’t sure those were for you either.

“Why do you listen to music about dead babies?”

You’d asked it while washing the dishes. Harvey nearly dropped the plate in his hands. “What!?”

You shrugged. “I put on one of your records and the guy was singing about a dead baby.”

“You… what album?” Harvey’s eyes were crinkled in bemusement.

“It had a boat on it?”

Harvey thought for a second, then his face lit in recognition. “The Decemberists! They’re wonderful!”

You laughed. “Didn’t know your taste was so… edgy?”

“Oh no no no.” Harvey was blushing. “That track… not a good representation. Here.” He dried his hands, grabbed yours, pulled you into his hobby room. You leaned against the door, trying to control your smile as he rifled through his albums. He made a small “ah” sound as he pulled one out. “This is a better starting point.”

Strings filled the room, and you settled in on the floor to listen. You liked this one a little better, but…

“Is this a song about a couple jumping off a cliff together?”

“…yes?” Harvey ducked his head, an embarrassed smile playing on his lips.

“I mean, I like it better than the dead baby one…”

“Hmmm…” Harvey fiddled with the player again. “They’re known for this one. Might want to sit down, it’s long.”

You appeased him, doing your best not to knock into the model that was drying on the table next to you. Harvey joined, picking up a bit of sandpaper. He worked away at a few small pieces of wood as you spent the next nine minutes trying to follow the action of a rambling nautical tale.

“So let me get this straight,” you said as an accordion reeled through its outro. “This dude bankrupted the kids mom and gave her an std or something, so the singer took to sea to kill him, but then they both got swallowed by a whale, but he’s still gonna kill him?”

Harvey nodded, keeping his eyes on his project. “Yup. That’s… that’s about it.”

“Huh.” You sat and watched him for a moment as he smoothed away at a rough edge. The track transitioned, a gentle guitar picking, the lead singer’s lowing tenor sliding through a simple melody.

You recognized it.

“I think I know this one?” You tried to place it. It sounded a little different in your head. Softer. Hummed.

Harvey was blushing again. “I get it stuck in my head sometimes. It’s one of my favorites. ‘Of Angels and Angles.’ Makes me think of you.”

“Awww…” You couldn’t help the slow smile. That was exactly it. Harvey would hum it sometimes around the house, or, now that you were thinking a little harder, when you were in bed, head on his chest, the melody rumbling beneath you as you grew warm and tired and relaxed.

Harvey’s lips were moving, singing without singing as he brushed away a bit of dust from the wing he held.

There’s a swallow

There’s a calm

Here’s a hand to lay on your open palm today

You stood, wrapped your arms around his shoulder, buried your face in his hair as the song wound its way to its end. “Alright,” you said. “That was a lot better than the first one I heard. What else you got?”

Harvey tilted his head up at you. “Ever heard the story of the crane wife?”

You hadn’t, but now you couldn’t wait to hear all about it.

[weidli]

you know whats also a hilarious relationship. spiel auf zeit sebastian and viktor. viktor is like hello i am here to help (definitely non suspicious) let me make a point of how well i know thorsten and the fact that he does still trust me. why hello mister bootz are you up for a threesome. and sebastian is like Well first go fuck yourself and secondly go fuck yourself. my wife announced today that she's divorcing me and i am consumed by deep and devastating self worth issues masquerading as anger masquerading as jealousy if you look at my work husband one more time i am going to rip your head off. also he trusts me MORE than he trusts you btw. I'M his partner YOU'RE a convicted criminal who got his family killed and might get him killed. so to sum this all up go FUCK YOURSELF. and viktor is like is this an invitation for hate sex. i'm also up for hate sex 🤷

[screampied]

☆ cw. fem! reader, true form! sukuna, cūnnilingus, using his stomach mouth, dirty talk, praise, mdni.

“c’mere,” sukuna hoarsely utters, hunching over his throne that solely consisted of piles and piles of corroded dusty bones. with his head leaning down, he’s got a near-perfect view of you. he’s zeros narrow eyes down at your frame, focusing primarily between the gap of your legs and the panties that were already pulled to the side. as you take a step closer, you watch as he takes broad two hands, stretching the fleshy skin of his stomach mouth into a priggish grin. “closerrrr,” and you stare at the way his other beefy arms stack underneath each other. sukuna was big, even while hunched over. he notices your eyes weren’t focusing on him - but instead, his peculiar abdomen’s smile that spreads across his stomach with the widest, cockiest simper. “ah. don’t worry. it won’t bite.. for now.”

with a hushed soft-spoken murmur, you take your seat on his lap before meeting his cold, crimson-eyed gaze. “you can just . . make it smile like that?”

“oh.. i can make it do many other things, too,” and you gasp, feeling sukuna’s other unoccupied hands gently claw at your waist. now, you’re straddling him, feeling each throb between your pretty thighs accelerates by the second. closely leaning his naturally curved lips up against the soft shell of your ear, sukuna lets off a gruff whisper.

“how ‘bout ya try sittin’ on it, princess? it is pretty famished.”

the corners of the mouth that stitched against sukuna’s skin wetly drooled the more you brought your hips closer.

he could practically smell your sweet scent - and the buds that lived on his tongue sizzled with carnal anticipation. from the very cracks and corners of its mouth, you saw how it eagerly slobbered from both sides with glittery drops of saliva.

“o- okay..” you breathe, lightly bringing your palms toward his chest, pushing sukuna to recline back. you could feel yourself throbbing ferociously, each pulse nearly causing your thighs to glue together before you align yourself.

you weren’t even looking at sukuna—and yet, through bleary peripherals, you could see that same cunning grin from his stretching at each wry corner of his lips.

the flat pink tongue flops itself out of its mouth, running its feverishly wet tip down between the crevices of your thighs. you hover over sukuna’s stomach with a whine dramatically tearing out from your throat. “oh! f- fuuuck.” your brows would furrow together as the tongue wanders and dips its way into every orifice. it drags itself further, poking the very hot tip of the twitching muscle near your pearly clit.

it was almost like it had a mind of its own.

and oh- it did.

sukuna’s always had a long tongue . . but his stomach tongue was far, far wider.

he could extend it while inside of you, and it didn’t take long at all before he reached deeply against the spongy barrier around your g-spot.

your thighs forever continued to quaver over him as his tongue roams at all angles - sloppily roving everywhere, even lapping near your hole.

it’s tepidly hot, and your naturally glossed lips couldn’t help but part — cutely spreading into a gasping, agape ‘o’ shape.

it lolls its way flat against your pussy before sluuuurping up a long three-second suck. it’s so-so wet, and it even starts to drink up the remnants of slick that drip between the slot of your thighs.

“you taste sweeter than usual, little one,” he grunts, allowing his stomach tongue to explore through every nook ‘n cranny inside of your dripping cunt. “mhm, atta girl. just ride . . riiiide against it- against me. don’t be shy. it likes you.”

a shivering whimper was a response as your lips trembled. his tongue was wide, and it slithers its way deep before nibbling against your clit. sukuna darkly chortles, feeling your legs trying to close themselves shut but one of his hands grabs your thigh. “easy, eaaaasy girl,” he speaks in a smoky rasp, watching as your back creates an arch.

your hips couldn’t help but shimmy - writhing from his touch before the thick tongue swerves around in sloppy curving arcs. “good . . girl, look at those pretty hips movin’ all for me,” and you whine, feeling him bring three rough, callused hands toward your waist.

he’s slow — slowly guiding your hips to rock against his stomach tongue that’s just oh-so eager, greedily delving its way in and out of your gummy, soaked walls. every few seconds, pant after pant of such languid breaths leaves from your chest, leaving you utterly breathless.

“mmh- ‘kuna, fuck ‘m not .. gonna,” and you watch as the demon raises a pink slit brow. the fat, long tongue punctures its way deep and thoroughly makes itself known inside of you. as it continues to massage its tip through your folds, you let off the sweetest moan once the tongue’s texture abruptly changes.

and now — it feels a bit softer but forked. your eyes started to roll once his stomach tongue thrusts itself between your puffy droopy hoods..

each slick, slimy squelch that wetly sobs from between your legs got louder, louder until you were frantically grinding against his chiseled chest.

as your clit’s being repeatedly stretched by the bumpy flatness of the tongue—you mewl out the same desperate cries, nearing yourself closer and closer toward your longly awaited edge.

your thighs never felt more weak, and it’s like you could feel every chill run down your body at each slurp he took. the tongue that resided on sukuna’s stomach was the pure definition of greedy..

if you dared to move just a single inch, it would snarl - making the sharp edges of his canines playfully nip near your sopping cunt. inaudible babbles slipped past your lips in substitution of words before you ended up falling face first into his chest.

“su- hng- sukuna, ‘m cummin,” you’d squeal out, failing to catch your breath every time. each breath that tries to wind out of your overwhelmed lungs makes you gasp. pounds of ridden, tender flesh smear its way on his tongue in circles before you start to feel the impact — the impact being your poor, poor hips quaking over his abdomen. “fuckk!”

“thaaaat’s it,” he purrs, such baritone sweetly coating his voice like honey. two arms wrap around your torso as you’re losing yourself completely.

your treacly slick pours down the valley between your thighs as you whine, burying your face into his left shoulder. sukuna gives your back a praising pat as you’re succumbing to pleasure, riding out your elated high with the most blissful orgasm rawly following out your throat. “heh, such a dramatic girl. it’s just a tongue,” and as sukuna continues to take jabs at your cute, dumb state—he swats a hand against your ass.

“mhm,” he lets out a satisfied grumble, hearing your breaths turn from quick to slow within seconds. sukuna’s stomach mouth had more than an appetizing meal—and you could feel its lengthy tongue slap its way against your pussy before retreating into its drooling maw.

even still - it greatly drools from the sides with your slick glistening all over his bare, ripped stomach. “such a good little thing,” and you moan, defeated gargled whimpers desperately trying to escape from your throat before he grabs your chin. “c’mere, let me get a taste too.”

closing the brief distance between you both, you press your hot lips against sukuna in a hungry manner. the demon titters as your tongue weakly slips into his mouth, feeling his fangs nip against your quivering underlip.

a hand of yours idly slides its way down his puffed-out chest that was proudly covered with infamous ancient markings.

crowns of teeth sharply clash amongst each other as if a never-ending battle was occurring, and he’s slurping up every one of your moans.

one of sukuna’s hands that was stacked underneath his upper arm snakes its ways between your thighs, giving your sensitive wet cunt a teasing squeeze. “mmph-” you gasp, feeling the smirk stretch wide across his lips before the demon gradually starts to pull away.

you’re left panting—and sukuna eyes you curiously, looking down at you literally before he seductively slides his tongue across his pink lips.

“best meal i’ve had in centuries,” and you continued to quietly moan before watching him lean back against his throne again, patting his now closed stomach tongue. “but princess, don’t catch your breath now,” and you gulp, glancing at the lower placement of his hands.

sukuna does the same action from earlier—prying both corners of his stomach mouth apart into an eerily, haughty smile before watching the tongue roll out once more.

quickly - it licks over its entire mouth where some of your slick still perfectly remained and sukuna runs a stubby thumb down your pussy before letting the extra tongue get the first taste again.

“i think we could go for dessert right now too..”

[stainedglassvariations]

Morning Showers

Non-sexual intimacy, sharing an early morning shower, GN!MC

Zayne doesn’t flinch when he hears you opening the shower door, already pressing himself into the corner so you have room to wriggle inside. His shower is really too small for this, but he can’t find it in him to care when you press yourself to his front; eyes still shut from the early hour. In a minute or two, you’ll start to wake up, insisting on lathering his hair if only for the simple amusement of styling it up, and he’ll run the loofa down your soft back after. When you get out, he’ll step aside so you can do your skin care, and you’ll tell him which tie he should wear while watching him through the mirror. Your little morning ritual ends with lips against his cheek, drops of water dripping down onto his collar, and the rest of the day seems to go by just a bit faster.

Xavier is the one to follow you in, his arms around your waist as he sleepily follows you through the apartment. You help him pull his sleep shirt over his head, let him hold onto you as he steps out of his sweats and boxers, and brace his weight against your back as you adjust the water to the perfect temperature. When you step into the water, you have the showerhead angled so he can rest his cheek on your shoulder without being drowned. You always wind up a little late to work on these mornings as you spend most of the time running your hands up and down the length of his spine. 

Rafayel badgers you into it at first, but now you can’t imagine a week without at least one morning spent in his ridiculous walk-in shower. He plasters himself against you, complaining about the water temperature but never re-adjusting the knobs, and demands that you wash his hair. In retaliation, you steal away with a bottle of his expensive body wash as if you don’t see the grin that stretches across his face when he smells it on you three days later. The mornings you shower together are playful and sweet, with soap bubbles being blown and water flicked into each other’s faces. By the time you get out, you’re pruned and slightly overheated while he looks unfairly refreshed and moisturized. 

Sylus carries you in on the mornings you have no desire to get out of bed. His hands are gentle as they take off your clothes, big palms keeping you warm against the early morning chill. He sits you between his legs, moving the showerhead over your body before getting a nice lather with the bodywash he made you pick out weeks before. You almost fall back asleep leaning against his thigh while he massages your shoulders, barely aware when he reaches down to lift you back up against him so he can wash your legs. The robe he wraps you in after he’s done is sinfully soft, warmed on the heated towel rack, and you’re reluctant to leave when your alarm shatters the morning peace. Thinking back on it once the haze of sleep clears, you think that may have been the entire point.

Caleb is too big for you two to be sharing the shower in your apartment, but that doesn’t stop you from squeezing into what little space is left. He laughs when he feels your arms around his waist, cheekily asking if you have room to breathe back there, but his hands hold fast to yours as if afraid you’ll slink away. You respond with a light nip to his shoulder and demand the hot water to be made even hotter. Underneath the spray, the two of you talk about anything and everything, making plans for the coming days you’re together. When it’s time to rinse the suds off, it’s a careful dance to get beneath the showerhead without knocking anything off the walls. After, the two of you fight for space in front of the mirror like when you were teens. It ends with you warning Caleb not to get toothpaste in your hair as he brushes his teeth over your head, you tucked against his bare chest.

[holeforzenin]

QUIET <3

Tw - Mommy kink, slight exhibition kink, this is so funny bc I was planning on writing about dom!choso today but end up writing this?? Not proofread

ꕀ ₊⋆ ⤸

“Shhh, gotta be quiet Cho” you tantalizingly whispered to his ear, smiling at his hazed-out, innocent expression as you bounced yourself up and down his cock, dragging your sweet cunt that's he's so so addicted to, on his lengthy dick, spreading your creamy slick all around it—your hands gripped and squeeze both of his muscular biceps during the process, feeling the raw strength beneath your touch as his head slightly leans against the wooden headboard.

You quickly hastened your pace—trying to get the both of you to cum as soon as possible before his mom comes back to check up on you again. It was your first ever sleepover today so what better way to make it an unforgetful memory then to tease and take advantage of your sweet, doting boyfriend who would do anything for you, as long as it made you happy.

His fingers greedily dug into the soft flesh of your plump ass, grasping your curves possessively as he stared up at you—eyes filled with desire and lust as he captured your lewd expression as his angry cockhead furiously jabs against your g-spot over and over again. Bullyingly impaling your pretty pussy opened around him.

He’s trying his very best to stifle the desperate urges to moan and whimper too much but he just can’t help it—feeling the intoxicating pleasure of his seductive, horny little girlfriend manipulating his poor cock and body and using him as a fucktoy for your pleasure drove him crazy, just like this.

He loves it when you use him as your personal little toy to fuck. He was made for it—hell, he’d even let you use him while he’s asleep if you need to, He doesn’t care. He loves it.

He wouldn’t ever admit it but the dirty thought of even getting caught in such a lewd situation like this made his hardened dick throbbed excitedly against your tight soppy walls—that were two seconds away from milking him dry. No one has ever seen this side of Choso other than you, so the thought of even partially getting caught sent shockwaves through his mind.

He bit his lips and lets out a string of curses under his breath when he notices the streaks of cum coating his pulsating cock every time his cock disappears into your core and appears again and there was even more cum overlaying it, driving him sooo fucking crazy. The sight pushed him closer to the brink of ecstasy. He was so so close to stuffing you full of his seed.

“Your pussy is s’good” he whimpered out of breath. A mischievous smirk tugged at your lips as you adjusted your hips, grinding your ass against him at a better angle—coaxing a loud, unrestrained moan out of him.

“Nghh—fuck, m’so close Mommyy!” he lets out a low, guttural moan, his hands now gripping onto your waist, desperately trying his best to keep up with your pace as his gaze fixated on the rhythmic bounce of your breast which only further fuels his ardor.

He almost got a heart attack after hearing the next door slamming open. The sudden noise startled him, sending his heart racing with fear. You moaned out deliciously as you excitedly bounced faster, giggling at his scared expression. He’s so adorable, who knew a big, strong man could be this cute and vulnerable?

Your tight walls hugged his cock so snugly and warm inside of you, you felt like heaven. You grind your hips back and forth on his lap, causing a ripple of pleasure that made your muscles clench even tighter, making his head fall back while he fought the urge to release a moan that threatened to escape his lips.

“Gon-naa cum! Hahhh!” He quickly announced, before shooting his seed right up into your sloppy pussy—making your head fall back as your back arched slightly, you satisfyingly laughed at the pleasure of your insides slowly being filled up by him. You quickly stuffed two fingers in his mouth to quiet him as you drained more and more cum from his thick balls.

The door swings open with a sudden force, "Heyy kiddos! do you guys need anything? If so let me know and you should get some sleep soon!!" Choso's mom enthusiastically calls out by the door.

You smirked wickedly, pressing your soft boobs against his chest, causing a surge of desire to pulse through him. Before leaning your face into his neck, “Be a good boy and answer her for me, Choso” you whispered in a teasing tone before licking a long stripe of his sensitive neck—making his cock jolted with arousal against your gummy walls, you can literally feel it beating rapidly inside of you with his seed still stuffed inside of you as you cockwarmed him.

“I—ye-yes! We’re ohh!- okay~” he stammered—it was all he could make out before his eyes rolled back from the sudden pleasure overwhelming his senses. His head thumped loudly against the headboard as you sucked on his neck, sending shivers down his spine and causing him to lose himself in the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that consumed him.

“Choso, sweetie are you okay?” His mom questioned worriedly, trying to make out what was happening but couldn’t see one bit because she didn’t have her glasses with her.

“Ye-yes! Please juuust go!” His voice cracked as tears prickled from his eyes, his heart pounding with a crescendo of fear and desperation.

“Okay! If you say so…” she replied with a tinge of uncertainty in her voice, casting a quick glance back before gently closing the door behind her with a soft click.

You slowly pulled away, a smirk played on your lips as you took in the sight of how utterly fucked out he looked. So fluttered and adorable.

You cradled his face in your hand, tenderly caressing his cheeks before pushing it deep into your boobs, gently patting the back of his head as he inhaled your scent with a groan. “Shhh Cho, I got you baby. You’re such a gooddd boy” you cooed comfortingly at him.

You giggled excitedly, feeling his cock rock solid again.

[bywons]

LET ME BE YOUR HERO ★ spiderman!enha

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬────𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖬𝖩

❪ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝒾𝐒 ❫ ｡ 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋 1400wc 𖥔 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗎 ──𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 贅沢 ／ 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐄

★REBLOGPLEASE

LEE HEESEUNG

“hey baby,” heeseung’s voice startles you, causing you to almost fall out of your study desk. you whip your head towards the balcony, to see your boyfriend hanging upside down by his spiderwebs.

“what are you doing here?” you hiss, striding towards the balcony. you pull his spider mask down, revealing his charming face which always gave you butterflies. “god forbid a man wants to visit his girl,” he grins lazily, winking at you when he knows this is an ungodly hour to visit you.

his cover could be blown. “my parents are literally in the next room, hee. can you please get out—” “just a kiss,” heeseung pleads, tilting his head with that mischievous smile of his, still dangling upside down like it’s the most casual thing in the world, “just a kiss and i’ll go.”

and you eventually give in, rolling your eyes as you cup his face and lean in for a kiss. heeseung smiles into the kiss, his lips soft and tender against yours, moving in sync as your teeth graze against his top lip. his breath hitches, falling to the threshold of the balcony with a thud.

“are you okay? you’re gonna wake up my parents,” you whimper, looking down at him. but heeseung only chuckles, looking up at you, “sorry, babe. i get nervous around you.”

PARK JONGSEONG

you became famous overnight all around your college when your face hit the news headline— “college girl saved from local monsters by the city's superhero, spiderman.”

“so, how was the experience?” you get startled by the sudden voice beside you, almost dropping the books in your hand. shutting your locker close, you meet the eyes of park jongseong aka jay— leaning against his own locker, wearing one of those oversized hoodies with a cocky grin.

“nothing special,” you shrug, leaning against your locker too as you scoff, “not big of a fan.” “really?” jay scoffs, inching closer until he towers above you easily. his dark hair locks fall gently over his forehead, making your mouth gape.

“you say spiderman is not all that,” he angles his head sideways, cupping your face between his hands— leaning in just enough for his hot breath to fan over your face, “then why were you so clingy to him last night? you sure didn't want to let go, doll.”

you could feel blood rush up to your face, making it flush before jay. you chuckle, whispering, “but how did you know that?” just like that, jay realises he messed up, his spider-suit peeking under his hoodie.

SIM JAEYUN

“—and the correct option is c,” jake pushes his thick rimmed glasses up his nose bridge, “did you get it?”

“yeah, i got it,” you sigh, your attention nowhere but your boyfriend, who’s neck is still damp from swinging around the city, saving people.

“does spiderman help other girls with their homework too?” you sigh, cocking your head to one side. “no?” jake is caught off guard, his eyes widened as he pulls you on his lap, “only you, i promise.”

before you can stop yourself, you grab the collar of his hoodie and pull him in. jakes eyes widen behind his glasses, but he soon eases into the kiss, one hand cups your cheeks as he leans into you. your stomach flips as he giggles into the kiss, caressing your cheeks.

you back just a little, your forehead pressed to his. “does he kiss other girls too?”

jake laughs, his glasses fogged, “only if she’s you.”

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon quickly pulls you into the janitors closet, banging it shut as he pushes you against the wall. “shut up,” he pleads, all sweaty and out of breathe in his spider-suit, “please just everybody can hear you—”

“i wasn’t even going to say anything,” you lie, gripping onto his biceps as they brace next to your head, bodies too close to each other in the cramped place, “why did you think revealing yourself as spiderman to me was okay?”

sunghoon sighs, he knew that changing into civilian clothes right before college was risky. and of course, out of all people, you happened to see him in the hallways. “just—promise me,” he huffs, leaning in to see your face better in the dark, “you won’t tell anyone, alright?”

“and why do you think i wouldn’t?” you smirk, eyes glinting with mischief as they meet sunghoon’s confused ones.

“seriously?” he hisses, his patience running thin as he grits his teeth, “y/n you better—” “park sunghoon is spi—!”

he doesn’t let you finish the sentence, he leans forward and slams his lips on yours, pulling you into a hurried, angry yet a soft and delicate kiss. he cradles your head with his hand, the other sliding down to your waist. “shut up,” he breathes as he pulls away, chuckling at your flushed face which he loves.

KIM SUNOO

as you’re about to circle around the block towards the alleys to reach your apartment, a fwip sound interrupts you— and suddenly you’re being held up in the air by your waist.

“what the— sunoo?” you almost scream as sunoo only laughs, swinging you onto a building’s rooftop like it’s nothing.

“you almost screamed,” sunoo laughs, pulling up his mask just up to his nose, “you’re so cute.”

“you almost gave me a heart attack,” you complain, smacking his arm playfully as he laughs. “i missed you,” he says, slowly pulling you closer on the rooftop, slow and cool wind caressing you both, “it’s so hard to not see you all the time.”

you giggle in his arms, and sunoo pushes a strand of your hair behind your ears, “can i kiss you?”

“you don’t have to ask,” you finally give him his much needed permission, and sunoo leans in for a kiss amidst the busy night life he secretly watches over.

YANG JUNGWON

you quickly shut the door to your room behind you, facing your boyfriend who’s busy changing into civilian clothes.

“look away!” jungwon blushes as his eyes meet yours. he’s halfway through a plain white shirt, his abdomen exposed.

“what did i tell you about barging into my family gatherings?” you almost shout, slapping jungwon's forearm. “ouch,” jungwon whispers, “but did you see your messages? you told me to save you—”

“not when i said my whole family is here!” you sigh, plopping down flat on your bed and jungwon quickly wears his shirt. before you can say anything, jungwon hovers above you, pressing soft pecks on your lips and neck.

“i need to make sure you're alright,” he smiles in the most gentle way which makes your heart melt, and pull him closer by his collar. “i love you,” he whispers against your lips, kissing it slow.

“i love you more,” you chuckle. “no, i do!” he protests, pulling back to see your face. “no jungwon, you know that i love you more—”

“is somebody there?” a familiar voice floats in from outside your door, probably a relative. “i saw someone in there.” jungwon's face cringes as he looks at your furious one.

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki winces as you press a feathery kiss just above the bruise blooming on his cheek. “does it hurt?” you ask.

“not when you're kissing them,” riki teases, pulling you closer on his lap as he wraps his arms around you, “i want you to kiss all my bruises—”

“i told you not to mess with them,” you complain, an irritated pout forming on your face as you caress riki’s cheek. “you’re spiderman, not a fighter, they are stronger than you.”

“you hurt me more, doll,” riki leans into your touch, smirking as he mumbles, “i still took all of them down though.”

“that's not the point riki,” you sigh, retracting your hand from his cheek, at which he winces again, “i don't want you to get hurt all the time.” riki sighs into your palm, using both of them to cup his own face, “you’re so hot when you’re angry,” he snorts, biting his lip.

“can you please stop—” riki doesn't waste a second listening to your lectures as he pulls you in by your wrist, lips clashing into a heated kiss, which slows down eventually. you pull back first, an unsure and strict expression on your face.

“if it means getting hurt everyday because of you,” riki kisses your wrist, “then so be it.”

스루 ܃ for @flwrstqr ! love ya so much, mwah 💌

© bywons, 2025 div ctto —taglist open ! nets. @/k-labels @kflixnet @k-films

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤBELOVEDㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Damian Wayne x Fem Reader Part 1

☆⁠ HEADCANON : What If He Become Obsessed With Dick's Girlfriend?

☆⁠ NOTES : It's just a cute and funny headcanon and should not be taken seriously. Y/n obviously have no feeling for him and see him as a little brother. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You’ve been dating Dick for a while, and naturally, this means you’re in Wayne Manor a lot. It’s not that you mind, but being around the Batfamily is like trying to survive a sitcom where every character is armed.

And then there’s Damien.

Oh, sweet, little, stabby Damien.

At first, he’s a little terror. He’s always scowling at you, calling you things like “Richard’s latest concubine” or “another unnecessary attachment.”

It’s fine. You ignore him. He’s a kid. A weird kid with ninja skills and a superiority complex, but a kid nonetheless.

But then something shifts.

You don’t know when it started—maybe it was the first time you helped Damian with his homework (because, let's face it, the kid can’t count past ten without losing his temper), or maybe it was the first time you accidentally brushed his hair aside while he was brooding on the roof. Either way, the moment you paid him just a little bit of attention, you sealed your fate.

Now Damien was everywhere. Not in an obvious “he’s following you” way—no, he was stealthier than that. He would conveniently show up whenever you visited the Wayne Manor, leaning against a doorframe, pretending he hadn’t been waiting there for 45 minutes.

“Oh, it’s you again. Why are you always lurking like a feral cat, Damien?” you’d tease, and he’d scowl, muttering about how you wouldn’t understand his “intellectual pursuits.”

He starts showing up wherever you are, uninvited. Oh, you’re in the kitchen trying to make breakfast? Guess who just landed behind you, silently hovering like a tiny, murderous shadow? "I see you're using the wrong knife to cut that," he says, smugly eyeing the blade, “and you should be cutting it at a 45-degree angle. Let me handle it.”

You look over, blink a few times, and try to avoid an aneurysm. "Damian, what—"

"I’m simply trying to prevent you from making mistakes," he interrupts, already taking the knife from your hand with the confidence of someone who’s never been told ‘no’ in their entire life. Yes, he did just steal your kitchen knife.

He goes from glaring at you across the dinner table to…well, staring at you.

It’s subtle at first, but you notice. You’ll catch his eyes lingering a little too long when you’re laughing with Dick, or feel him trailing after you when you wander the manor.

You think it’s cute. Like a kid with a crush on their babysitter.

When he insists on showing you his katana skills? You humor him. “Wow, Damien, you’re so talented!” you gush. Dick thinks you’re being nice. Damien thinks you’re in love.

When he critiques your relationship with Dick? “Grayson isn’t good enough for you. He’s reckless, emotionally stunted, and too busy pretending to be a circus clown to prioritize your needs.”

You laugh it off. “I’ll keep that in mind, Damien.”

Mistake #1. He interprets this as you agreeing with him.

When he starts bringing you tea? Complimenting your outfit choices? Sitting way too close to you during movie night?

“Aww, he’s opening up to me!” you think.

Damien is so dramatic about it. Every time Dick kisses you, hugs you, or just breathes in your direction, Damien is in the background like a Shakespearean villain.

He walks into the room, sees you cuddling with Dick, and immediately storms out with a loud, "Tt. Disgusting."

Alfred offers him cookies to calm him down. Damien refuses because he’s too furious to snack.

Mistake #2. You’re feeding the monster.

Damien moves from “weirdly attached” to “what the hell is happening” alarmingly fast.

He wasn’t subtle. He decided to prove his superiority over Dick by painting your portrait. At midnight.

“Damien,” you said when you caught him, holding a brush like he was Da Vinci reincarnated, “why are you painting me?”

“Because no one else can capture your essence,” he replied, dead serious.

You left before he could explain that he was also building a shrine in his closet.

He doesn’t interrupt your date... at first, not directly. He doesn’t need to. Damian’s signature passive-aggressive commentary will follow you home, like a ghost. "I saw you let Dick drive. You know his driving skills are subpar at best, right? I wouldn’t trust him with a paper airplane." You’re not even sure how he knew you two were driving, but the comment lands, and it cuts like a knife.

You try to confront him. “Damian, stop following me around like a puppy! You’re a child. A literal child. Go play with toys or something.”

Damian’s face twists with a mix of indignation and disgust. “I do not play with toys, Y/N. I train. Unlike some people.”

And the best part? Damian doesn't even hide his feelings for you. One night, after you and Dick have spent a quiet evening watching movies, Damian barges in, wearing his usual scowl, and just points at you. "I’ve decided," he declares dramatically. "You’re mine now."

You almost choke on your popcorn. "Excuse me??"

"That’s right. You’ve been chosen." He’s so serious, like this is some ancient prophecy he’s about to fulfill.

He starts referring to you as his beloved in casual conversation.

“Father, inform Grayson he’s no longer allowed to monopolize my beloved’s time.”

“Your what?!” Dick is confused.

At first, you thought it was a joke. “That’s cute, Damien, but I’m pretty sure you learned that from a Victorian novel.”

But he wasn’t joking. He never joked. He’d say it with all the seriousness of someone discussing global diplomacy. “One day, you’ll understand why I call you that, Beloved.”

One day, you accidentally called him a kid in front of everyone. “Relax, kiddo.”

You’d barely finished the sentence before he stormed off, muttering about how ungrateful you were for his “protection.”

Later, Alfred informed you that Damien spent the evening sulking on the roof. “It’s not sulking, Pennyworth. It’s strategizing.”

The moment Damien saw how you look at Dick, something inside him snapped. Why does Grayson get everything? he thought bitterly, watching from the shadows like a gremlin.

From then on, he started… intervening.

He’d interrupt your dates by calling Dick with “emergencies.” (“Richard, Gotham is on fire. I require your assistance.”)

Or other ways.

Dick: “Sorry I’m late. My motorcycle suddenly lost all its tires.”

You: “Wow, weird coincidence. Damien’s been in the garage all day.”

Damien innocently: “You should’ve asked me for a ride, beloved.”

He’d conveniently sit between you on the couch during movie nights, arms crossed, glaring at the screen like he wanted to kill the romantic lead just for existing.

Once, when Dick brought you flowers, Damien helpfully reminded you that roses often carried pests. You gave him a side-eye but thanked him for the warning.

One time, you catch him trying to slip his number into your phone.

“Damien, what are you doing?”

“Ensuring you can contact someone competent in emergencies.”

“That’s what Dick is for?”

“Grayson couldn’t competently fold a bedsheet.”

It all comes to a head when you find Damien casually trying to poison Dick.

You walk into the kitchen and there he is, sprinkling something suspicious into a smoothie.

“Damien, what the hell?”

He doesn’t even flinch. “It’s non-lethal. He’ll just feel weak enough to stay in bed for a few days. That way, we can spend quality time together.”

“QUALITY TIME?!”

He tilts his head, genuinely confused. “Don’t you want that?”

One day, you accidentally brought up his height. “Wow, Damien, have you grown an inch?”

That was it. That was the moment he vowed to become taller than Dick at any cost. He spent weeks researching growth supplements, adjusting his diet, and hanging upside down from the training bars in the Batcave.

Mistake #3. You don’t run immediately.

He “accidentally” breaks the bracelet Dick gave you (oops, it was an inferior material anyway).

Your favorite coffee cup disappears, and suddenly Damien has one just like it. "Strange coincidence, isn’t it?"

Damien starts “correcting” everything Dick tells you, from battle tactics to what kind of wine pairs best with dinner.

He trains Titus to growl whenever Dick comes near you. "Good boy, Titus. Show him who’s unworthy."

He steals your phone to block Dick’s number. "We should eliminate distractions."

You once made the mistake of jokingly calling him "cute," and now he’s convinced you’re secretly in love with him.

Dick, bless his heart, is completely oblivious.

“I think it’s great how well you and Damien are getting along,” he says, grinning like a golden retriever. Meanwhile, Damien is plotting your future wedding.

"I’m humoring her for your sake," Damien lies through his teeth while handing you a handmade sword engraved with your initials.

Damien constantly tries to prove he’s a better option than Dick:

“Richard is reckless. I, however, would never put you in harm’s way.” (Meanwhile, Damien drags you into an actual rooftop stakeout just so he can show off.)

“He can’t even cook. Did you know I can make authentic Middle Eastern cuisine?”

“You deserve someone who values you.”

You find a locked box in your room one day. Inside is a collection of…disturbingly Damien things.

A pressed flower you don’t remember receiving.

A strand of your hair.

A list titled “Reasons Why I’m Better Than Richard” (it’s very thorough).

A draft of a love letter in calligraphy that starts with “Dearest light of my tortured soul…”

You finally sit him down for a talk.

“Damien, you’re like a little brother to me.”

His expression doesn’t change. “I’m not your brother. Nor will I ever be.”

“Damien, you’re sweet, but—”

“I’m not sweet.”

“Okay, you’re terrifying, but you’re also 13.”

He stared at you, eyes narrowing. “I’ll wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For you to realize that I’m the only one worthy of your affection.”

“Damien…”

“The age gap will be irrelevant in five years.”

“And when that day comes, I’ll be ready.”

When you reject him (because obviously), he tries to play it cool but fails miserably.

“Tt. I wasn’t serious anyway. Your taste is terrible.”

Proceeds to storm off, but not before stealing your scarf.

You find it later in his room draped over a practice dummy he definitely punched several times while muttering Dick’s name.

Bruce gets involved after Damien “accidentally” pushes Dick off a rooftop.

“You need therapy,” Bruce says bluntly.

“You’re just upset I succeeded where you failed,” Damien snaps back.

He does go to therapy but somehow convinces his therapist he’s completely normal. (Because of course he does.)

Alfred is the real MVP.

“Perhaps you’d like to consider not obsessing over your brother’s partner, Master Damien.”

“You don’t understand, Pennyworth. She needs to be protected.”

“From what, sir? A happy relationship?”

Everything become worse when Damien starts sparring with Dick for no reason other than to “test his worthiness.” You have to physically drag him away while Dick just stands there, confused and bleeding.

“He’s weak,” Damien hisses as you shove him into a chair.

“He’s your brother!”

“And yet, he’s undeserving.”

In the end, Damien doesn’t give up. He’s stubborn like that.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— NEXT ☆ Part 2 Part 3

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[lady-lauren]

❥ SHOTA AIZAWA X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: cam girl!reader, former student/teacher relationship (but you're still his ~favorite~), praise, mutual masturbation, sex toys, use of "good girl", lots of dirty talk, aizawa is a pervert and we all know it

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“Look how far you’ve come.” Shota loves how you still tremble at his praise, fingers faltering on the screen. “Remember when you used to be so shy? And now you’re just spreading your pussy open for me.” 

His gaze follows every movement, breath in his throat as you part your labia and slide your fingers down your folds.

He really thought it was just a rumor that the young generation of heroes had taken to social media to make money. Less villains meant less pay, sure, but he never thought he’d find you on one of his favorite sites, using the body he trained to stuff yourself with toys.

“You were always one of my favorites. Always such a good girl.” 

“I’m still a good girl, Sensei. Promise.”

You prove your point by smearing your fingers over your clit, moaning as your hips buck.

“Yeah? Then show me your face, sweetheart. Wanna fist my cock to every inch of you.”

It’s so wrong. He feels like a dirty old fuck in his bedroom, sweats shoved down to his knees and his laptop screen glowing in the dark on the bed next to him. His camera faces the muscles of his chest, angled just perfectly so you can see the dark trail of hair that leads down to his cock. The frame captures the pump of his bicep as he strokes his dick, yet he leaves it up to your imagination to piece together what’s happening off screen. 

“Then you have to show me your face too, okay?” 

There’s the nervousness he’s used to hearing crackle in your sweet voice. Always so studious, so sweet, the most pleasant of all the brats to deal with. You only ever wanted to please. 

He knew it was you by your bedspread in the thumbnail to your page. You still have the same pillows you used to have at U.A., all plush and girly with a memorable stuffie tucked off to the side.

“Maybe next time,” he offers, watching your tits heave and nipples tighten as you debate fulfilling his request. 

Your camera lens is focused from the bottom of your bed, allowing him the perfect view from your spread thighs to your delicate collarbone. You never show your face, not to anyone, not even in one-on-one chat rooms. He read your rules, but he’s special—he’s no scary stranger, just a perverted sicko who wants to watch his former student fuck herself for him.

He shouldn’t be doing this. But god he can’t help himself. He’s seen you flourish as a pro hero, tight suits and bright smiles to the public, and all he’s ever thought about is how fucking pretty you must look naked. 

“Then at least show me your cock, Sensei.”

You have got to stop calling him that. Yet his cock throbs and leaks at the honorific. 

“Fine.”

His simple answer is enough to convince you. You sit up on your knees on the bed and lean forward, making his mouth water as your breasts fill his screen. 

Shota strangles his cock in his fist as all of you comes into view. You raise the camera high enough to show your whole bed from an upward angle, letting him leer at you from head to toe. 

“Atta girl.” He groans as you lean back against your pillows with one hand anxiously running a finger over your lips. You stare right at him through his laptop screen and it makes his balls swell. “I’ve missed your pretty face.”

He watches how his words make you press your already sticky thighs together, like his voice shot straight down to your cunt.

“Oh yeah? Have you missed me, too? Do you think about your old Sensei?”

Moaning, you’re unashamed to slide your hand down your stomach, spreading your thighs so you can relieve the ache he’s building between your legs. 

“Mhmm, I do. Right now I’m thinking about what your cock looks like.” 

He’d almost forgotten his promise. Shota looks down at his length, sucking in a deep breath at the sight of himself swollen and drooling for you. He pumps himself a few times just to feel the pleasure, to gain the courage to drag the laptop with his free hand just enough to bring his dick into the picture.

A sharp little gasp from you echoes into his room and he’s suddenly far too self-satisfied. He admires how you writhe on your bed, pulling your knees up so he can once again see the full image of your wet pussy. 

“You’re so big,” you whisper like you mean it, like you’re wishing you had his cock in your hand instead of his. 

“You think I’d fit inside you, hm?” 

You’re like a curious cat eyeing him across the screen, lashes fluttering as you glance him over from base to tip. You must have a screen set up right next to your camera because your gaze is still meeting his as your head bobs up and down with the way he strokes his cock. 

“I dunno,” you moan as you spread your legs wider, two fingers dipping to prod at your hole, “you’re bigger than my toys.”

“And I bet that little cunt is so tight. Put your fingers in and show me.”

You still listen so obediently, just like when you were his student. 

He thumbs the head of his cock as he watches you sink two fingers into yourself, the microphone picking up the wet squish of your cunt. Your belly tightens with pleasure as you start to pump the digits into your pussy, slow at first and then picking up pace as your bliss builds. 

“Tell me what you would want me to do to you if I was there.”

There’s no filter for him now, not with your messy cunt filling his screen and your hand now plucking at your nipple. 

You take a moment to think, pretty head falling back to the pillows as you moan for him.

“Always wanted to kiss you, Sensei. Want to feel your hands all over me, ah,” you press the palm of your hand against your clit as you talk, making you nearly whine between breaths, “and I’d want your cock in my mouth.”

“You like sucking dick, sweetheart?” 

He starts matching the pace of his fist to your fingers, picturing his cock sliding between your plush, parted lips.

“I like having my face fucked,” you admit and it makes him groan. 

His noise spurs you on, makes you grab your tit and squeeze as your fingers move faster. 

“I’d love to slide my cock past your sweet lips and into your throat. Want you to gag on it, spit running down your face as I take what I want.” 

“Yes, want you to take what you want from me. Want you to use me, fill me up and fuck me with that fat cock, Sensei.” 

He nearly chokes at your words, blushing at how filthy your mouth is. He pumps himself faster, picturing having your soft body in his lap, your sloppy cunt sinking down onto him. 

“How do you want me to fuck you?” 

The moan that sounds from his laptop is so lovely, the slick sound of your fingers in your pussy making him shiver. 

“I can show you?” you ask more than state, pausing to look straight into the camera feed. “With a toy, I mean. Y-you can pick.” 

God, you’re such a delightful little minx. Shota squeezes the base of his cock as the mental image of you fucking yourself on a toy nearly topples him over the edge. He doesn’t know how he will handle actually viewing it. 

“Get your biggest dildo. Let’s see how it compares to me.” 

Any ounce of guilt he feels fades when you return to your bed with a purple, silicone cock, long and thick but not nearly as fat as the throbbing flesh he holds in his hand. 

“Guess you weren’t lying, were you, sweetheart? I’ll be the biggest thing that little pussy has ever taken.” 

Shota doesn’t care if he’s stepping beyond the realm of hypotheticals—he’ll get his hands on you, one way or another, all in due time. 

“Wanna see how I want you to fuck me?” you ask with the cutest smile, like you’re hiding such a naughty secret. 

“Show me. Fuck yourself for me, tell me every little thing I’m doing to you.”

He props an arm behind his head to get comfortable, the muscles of his abs and lats rippling in the dim light of the screen. He threads his fingers through his long hair and tugs the moment he sees you turn and get on your knees, bending until you’re in the most sinful doggy position he’s ever seen. 

“You start slow,” your voice drops to a sensual note, thick like honey, “cause you want me to feel every inch go inside me.”

The hand wrapped around his cock is moving before he can even think to stop, squeezing hard as he watches you reach around your body and start pushing the dildo between your pussy lips. 

Shota gets too close to the screen, strands of black hair grazing the edge of the camera, face still out of sight. His gaze scans from corner to corner, watching as if he intends to commit every single detail to memory. 

Your pussy sucks in the tip of the dildo, making you mewl, and slowly, torturously, you shove the length of it into your hole. 

“How do I feel?” 

“So good, want you to move, want you to fuck me hard.” 

You take the initiative to start bouncing the dildo in your pussy, sliding it in and out, building speed. The sound is licentious, wet, all mixed together with the short, airy moans you let out with every push into your body. Slick is starting to build on the silicone, creamy and thick. 

“Do you always get so wet or is it just for me?”

“All for you, Sensei. Cause you feel so good, you fuck me like I’ve always wanted.” 

Shota smears his thumb through the pre-cum freshly leaking from his cock, using it as lubricant as he starts a brutal pace on himself. He can hear the repetitive slap of his wrist hitting his thigh echo into the laptop microphone.

“That right? You’re a dirty girl for wanting to fuck her teacher.” 

“You’re so good to me, you rub my clit just how I like it.” 

He examines how one of your hands reaches under your body, two dainty fingers swirling around your clit before kneading it quickly, like you’re just so desperate to cum for him. 

The strokes he gives his cock are furious, other hand now coming down to cup his balls and roll them in his palm. His stomach flexes at the pleasure, picturing how that perfect cunt of yours would be squeezing him so tightly. 

“You wanna cum for me? Wanna cum all over your Sensei’s cock?”

“Please,” you groan into the sheets, hips now bucking with the pace of the dildo slamming into you, “will you let me cum? You said I’m such a good girl? Ah, ah, one of your favorites?” 

“Always my favorite, sweetheart. Show me how you cum, let me see you make a mess of yourself.”

Your knuckles are tight against the base of the dildo, using all your strength to fuck into yourself. You’re so close to the edge, panting, whining, hole stretched and practically weeping around the purple silicone. 

“You know I’ll fuck you faster, right? Harder. Just wait until I get my hands on you.”

Your tongue falls loose, “Want your hands on my hips, want you to spank me, oh god, pull my hair, kiss me and fuck me and tell me I’m all yours.” 

“You’re gonna cum for me, scream for me, all for me, got it?” 

He can see the way your head shakes on the bed, mascara dripping down the side of your face that he can see. Tears are in your lashes, your lip caught between your teeth, and even still you’re looking back for him, watching him tug and pull his cock with your name in his mouth. 

“God you’re so hot, your cock’s so big—”

A beautiful, strangled noise comes out of you as you finally come apart, your cunt clamping down around the dildo and your motions stilling. You scream into the mattress, all high-pitched and fucked out. Slick squelches from your stuffed hole, dripping down your thighs. 

With the scene before him, it only takes a few more pumps before he’s unloading, cum spurting out over his knuckles and up onto his stomach, rope after rope spilling out for you.

His room goes quiet, his pants and your whiny breaths the only sound he hears over the pounding of his heart. 

Finally, you shift on your bed, and he does his best not to look at the mess he’s made in his hand.

“Um,” you awkwardly clear your throat, looking away from him as you slide the dildo from your cunt. He can’t help but watch the way your pussy lips drag along the length. 

The post-nut clarity hits him like a steam roller. His clean hand grabs his laptop, ready to shut the screen and pretend none of this ever transpired except in the guilty pit of his daydreams—

“Shota,” you mumble, sitting on your knees and holding your body, “this was, uh, well really…hot. I…I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

His ears perk, unsure if he’s ever heard you call him by his first name. 

Before he changes his mind, he drags the laptop on his bed until the camera catches his face. You blink so prettily at the sight of him, dropping one of your hands from your breast like you’re just so comfortable seeing him. 

“Next time will be in person.” 

You give him the most genuine little smile, “Promise?”

[miss-jaye]

shoto was thoroughly confused when you barged into the house, quickly kissed him on the cheek, and told him to wait in the living room while you hurried up the stairs, arms full of shopping bags.

he blinked slowly, deciding to sit patiently until you came back down.

five minutes passed, and he heard the sound of your footsteps pitter-pattering down the stairs. you appeared in the living room, dressed in a short, white sundress with a cherry print, paired with a red cardigan.

you gave him a bright smile, spreading your arms wide. “what do you think, sho? it’s cute, right?” you giggled, clearly excited.

shoto blinked again, his eyes slowly raking over your figure. he observed how the dress hugged your curves just right, the playful cherry print adding to the charm. paired with your radiant smile? oh yeah, it’s perfect.

without a word, he stood up and extended his hand to you. you took it, a bit confused, tilting your head like a curious puppy hearing a new sound for the first time. shoto then gently twirled you around, letting him take in the dress from every angle, his gaze soft but intense.

when you completed the twirl, you faced him with a lovely smile. “shoto?… do you like it?” you asked, feeling a bit nervous under the weight of his focused stare.

he met your eyes and replied straightforwardly, “i like it on you.”

his words, simple and sincere, made your heart flutter. you stepped closer, your hands resting on his chest as you looked up at him, the warmth in his gaze making you feel cherished.

“you have good taste,” he added, a rare, soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “but i think it’s your smile that makes the dress perfect.”

you couldn’t help but blush at his sweet words, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “you always know what to say,” you murmured.

“only for you,” he responded, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“so,” you began, your voice playful, “should i go try on the rest?”

shoto chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “if it means i get to see you smile like that again, then yes.”

[eloquentlytired]

Logan with a breeding kink fic? 😉

18+ mdni

— raw.

pairing: logan howlett x fem reader

word count: less than 900

tags: unprotected sex — breeding — logan is feral — just filthy smut — risky sex — dom/sub undertones

author’s note: hi anon I hope this was a good read for you. logan having a breeding kink is so incredibly canon honestly

ৎৎৎ

“lo.” you moan as you lie facedown on the bed, legs straight, hips slightly raised. logan enters you from behind and the way he stretches you in this position has you whimpering. one of his large hands puts weight on your head and forces you to bury it against the bedsheets as you sob beneath him. his other hand stays on your middle to kind of support himself as he fucks you, driving his veiny cock into your deepest parts. the bed creaks beneath your moving bodies but you don't seem to care. logan grunts as he feels your pussy clenching around his cock, coating it too with your arousal. “still taking your pills like a good girl?” the shake of your head makes his hips slow down and gradually stop. you tilt your head at an awkward angle to stare at him and he stares back. “w—we ran out.” you whisper, voice still laced with arousal and need. logan weighs his options as his eyes drift downwards where his cock is completed soaked by your wetness and even his pubic hair drip with the doings of your pussy. his bare cock twitches inside you and you moan. “not safe,lo. let's just—”

there's not much you can do in this position when logan starts thrusting again. you take what he gives you and your eyes roll back when the fat head of his cock kisses your sweet spot, making your entire body shake all over. tears of pleasure slide down your cheeks and he leans down to kiss a tender spot on your shoulder before biting down. he grounds his hips in circles and you almost scream. “there— there,lo.” you beg him and he repeats the motion again and again. when your pussy tightens around him as you cum, logan growls into your shoulder and you can sense him growing more feral over you. your hands grip onto the bedsheets for dear life as you drool and cry against the mattress. logan drives his cock faster inside you and a few more thrusts later he fills you up, leaning the weight of his lower body on yours that his cock nudges impossible places within you. it makes you squirm and logan offers you a reassuring kiss as he pants against your shoulder, trying to process the raw feel of your walls around his bare girth.

“fuck.” you hear him curse minutes later and when you look back, your eyes widen. logan slips his softening cock out of your pussy and watches as his own come drips out and over your cunt. you exchange a silent and long stare and then logan is moving you again. you don't know what's happening or why but you're about to.

you've lost count and you've also lost any sanity left for the time being. you drag a hand over your belly as logan pumps his load inside you again, making your thighs shake from where they sit atop his own. you're laying on your back this time while he gets comfortable between your spread legs, breeding you until the late hours. “one last time. I swear,baby.” he lies through his teeth again and you allow it. logan slips his hands underneath your legs and shoves them back until your knees are nearly touching your chest. his cock is still hard and leaking — he'd really done it this time — and he wants to blame your bare cunt for wrapping around his cock so perfectly. you're tired and your pussy feels a little sore but you can't help but reach a wandering hand to your clit and rub it as logan fucks you mercilessly. his balls are heavy and drag against you with each shallow thrust. your entire body shakes and your other hand remains atop your stomach; you're full, so full, and your toes curl when you think about how much of logan’s seed you've stored in your womb.

“lo—” you're letting go again, your entire body spasming as your fingers shake against your swollen clit. logan’s eyes narrow when he watches you squirt beneath him and one of his hands is moving down to toy with your pussy, his fingers moving past yours and past your clit to tease the source of your squirt. it makes you cry and nearly scream. logan feels his balls tighten and before you know it he's already giving it to you again, spilling everything inside your pussy to make it full. to make his seed take place. “lo.” by the time you call for him he's already slipping a hand around your nape, clutching it, while his other hand joins your own on top of your stomach.

your lips meet and logan soothes you. “so pretty, so sweet. you took so much in ya, princess.” and his whispers make you tremble even more as you kiss him back slowly. his kisses are nothing like the way he fucks you; they're slow, patient and gentle. logan hums into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck. his fingers flex upon your stomach, even doing so much as squeeze it. he loves it. “how ‘bout we forget about those pills?” logan growls.

his cock doesn't stay soft for long and when his hand presses into your tummy possessively, you know exactly what awaits you.

[merakidoll]

the third part to porn star!toji, the other two are on my m.list 🎀

“what a good pussy” toji held your legs that were pressed together back so that they were by your ears. you bitting your lip and letting out long moans that could never be faked when you were with him. you and toji had quickly became one of the most popular duos on the porn sight. something about your innocent face and act being able to take the big, buff, mean man, and not a lot could say they did. another thing was toji never ever did multiple videos with one person. but you? oh, now he only wanted to film with you. “be rougher toji” you heartbeat sped up at the sound of his wife’s voice. your nails digging into his skin making little dents as your cream made a mess all over the faux dinner set up.

a cook and the hot waitress. the white hat on toji head moved, but never came off as he spead up his pace. your blue apron dress was pushed up to be over your tits, then bouncing with every pump. the sound of your wetness and skin clapping had everyone paying attention, the sight being one that was beautiful. “f-fuckkk” you cried, camera man two coming close to get a video of your teary face, then the view of toji going in and out of you. his balls slapped your ass, and with small grunts passing his lips. your head lolled to the side where you were met with the crew. your orgasm was right there. toji sensing it with how you quieted down, but your pussy got louder. “you there princess?” you bit your lip turning to look at him. slowing himself down, he bent forward, so that his breath fanned against you.

“wanna make that pretty pussy cum for daddy or what?” his words made your tummy tighten. “ohgoddd!!” using your hand to try to push him your eyes closed, pussy creaming nice and deliciously around him making a bit of a mess against the table. “not god baby, just toji” bitting his lip he let a growl out, his head turning to look at the camera as he slapped your ass making eye contact with his wife. as he stared at her, he fucked you through another orgasm while stuffing your cunt full of his load. he couldn’t help but smirk as she winked at him, groaning when you clenched down. “and scene” the room clapped while toji rolled his eyes, putting his attention back upon you.

he slowly pulled out of you, his cock limp and resting on his thigh. a smirk was on his face watching your body still quiver, and the harsh breaths you took. “always so good for me angle” he cooed quietly taking the robe form you assistant and shooing her off. still, he was immersed with how the mix of you two dripped from your cunt. “so good for us” a voice said making you jump and toji laugh. you watched his wife walk up to you both with a small smile on her face. “unt un wouldn’t wanna waste that now would we?” you were confused at first - looking around at the now empty set wondering what she was talking about. it wasn’t until you felt her finger scoop up the cum and push it back inside of you. her fingers rubbing against your gummy soft walls making your legs shake, a soft cry coming from you. and toji watched with a smirk the whole time.

you were shocked. what was happening? but you were loving every second of it. in the next moments still pumping her fingers in and out of you, she leaned down kissing you. your tounges swirled together as something slipped into your mouth, to which you moaned swallowing it; then she pulled back with a smirk. “plan b. don’t want you pregnant just yet” with a peck to your lips she walked away. leaving toji to pick up your shocked frame and whisper how you were theirs.

what was happening?

[eraserbread]

nanami's not about to fight with u... he's just gonna show u who you truly belong to. read part 1 for context

"i'm not fighting with you, just get on your knees."

"ken, we have a houseful of guests-

he's shaking his head, tugging his zipper in a fateful swoop. you don't lie and say you weren't buzzing with the idea of what he'd do next, but it felt so wrong. now was not the time to be getting him off.

"i won't repeat myself." then his pants are down and he's easing his already-flushed cock from its confines. he's rubbing himself to his full potential right in front of you, so comfortable with you standing in front of him, wide-eyed and nervous.

luckily your kitchen is closed off from the rest of the house, but it's not completely closed. someone could easily pop their head into the arched entryway and see everything you're seeing. deep down you know kento wouldn't let that happen. he has the awareness of an anxious cat, so you trust him enough to get on your knees, crawling to close the distance between you two.

"i'm doing this because domination tends to make you mild-mannered," he explains briefly, voice tinged with a hint of arousal. "and that's what I need from you right now. do you understand?"

"mhm." you reply, looking up at him with silent doe-eyes. from this angle at his feet, he looks so much bigger. daunting and familiar. so beautiful... and all yours.

"relax your throat." he demands just before taking a handful of your hair and guiding you down the length of him. he's not easy to take in the slightest - your jaw burns, eyes screwed shut as you try to swallow back a gag.

then, a thunderous bout of laughter erupts from the other room and you fold -- gagging and choking all over his pretty cock.

he yanks you backward, face screwed up in distaste. "what did I just tell you?"

"'m sorry." you whine as he smushes your lips with his tip.

"if satoru walks in here and sees you like this, i will be extremely upset."

"'m sorry." you repeat, genuinely sorry and just wanting him inside of you again. he's barely gracing your lips, but every atom in your body is screaming for him. if you thought satoru was charming five minutes ago, you didn't even know who he was now. all you want is your husband.

"him and his righteous savior complex.. makes me sick." he mutters, mostly to himself. he has two big hands on either side of your head, squeezing like only he can. it's been too long together, he knows you're not a china doll.

so, he fucks your limp throat like he hates you, eye twitching as he watches your face go more flushed with each mean thrust he's delivering. you've never taken him like this, feeling the drippy tip of his cock at the base of your throat, giving you goosebumps all around his touch. you've never felt closer to him, yet so pained by every one of his movements.

it's like your entire mind goes limp. etched with scrawling versions of his name only. he's you can think about, all you can taste...

only when he's finally done and marked your stomach with his seed, does he help you up with a strong hand, just holding you close for a second until yours stops shaking.

he doesn't say a word, just watching your eyes as they stare back at him expressionless but teary and bloodshot nonetheless. he leans forward and kisses your forehead.

"sorry. you know i'll always love you."

you nod, because... yeah. same. that makes him smile.

and he guides you back to your party holding your hand, watching out for you as you take the seat next to satoru back. it's like he doesn't even notice your presence, he's far too preoccupied teasing utahime about some nameless story from the past.

once the party has concluded and kento is seeing them all out, does satoru stop and say something.

"poor, little nanami..." satoru stops just before he reaches the first step past the front door. ken regards him with a nod, leaning against the doorframe. "this is what happens when the lamb chooses a wolf."

"do i even want you to explain?"

satoru shrugs him off, throwing up in hand as a curt goodbye as he turns around. "she's too nice. it's sad to know you yelled at her... she was all teary-eyed and mellow for the rest of the night."

kento turns around, chuckling to himself as he finally shuts the front door. reveling in the quiet comfort of his home he thinks:

ha. did much more than make her cry...

[swytdoll]

(19)virgin!choso has the hots for his older neighbor(35):(

perverted. that’s how he felt as he watched you wash your car, in shorts so tiny they were practically underwear and a white tank top that was so soaked it was see through. the way the fabric clung to your breasts made his mouth water. he had been staring for at least 30 minutes and had gotten to see them from all angles. it was torture, sweet torture. he wanted to take you right then and there in the grass and hear his name on your lips over and over.

you were old enough to be his mom. in fact, he had had you as a teacher back when he was in high school and that made him feel guilty for looking at you like this. but he just couldn't stop. he couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing about being with an older woman, one that knew what she was doing and knew how to use him. you would make him feel like your toy and he wanted that.

you looked up and caught his eyes. he blushed bright red and quickly turned away. maybe if he had kept looking he would have noticed the smirk on your lips.

you were a teacher in more ways than one. you could teach him how to be a good boy and give you the pleasure you deserved. he wanted to sink into the ground when you began to approach him. you were smiling sweetly, but your eyes said something different.

you leaned against the fence separating your property and his, propping up one of your arms on it. you gave him a soft grin and he wanted to die. you’re so pretty to him. glowing eyes framed with thick wispy lashes, pretty plump lips. he can't look away, mesmerized, he watches the way your lips part and the tip of your tongue darts out to wet them. the sight makes his blood run hot and his shorts grow tighter.

"hello mister kamo," you hummed, "where are your parents?"

"i-i'm sorry i-" had he been caught? were you gonna tell on him?

"what's the matter? are you nervous?" you cooed, "i just wanted to say hi to your mom, see if she needed anything for the barbecue later. is she around?"

"she's- um- out. getting groceries," he replied quietly, not daring to meet your eyes.

"oh? and what about your father?"

"he's...working late," choso said. he was sweating and the bulge in his shorts was now painfully obvious. he wanted to die, to disappear from embarrassment. you smiled and let out a giggle.

"are you okay mister kamo? you seem awfully nervous." you’re batting those lashes and he swears he could melt, he clears his throat. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine, totally fine!" he blurted out, "i'll- uh- tell them you said hi."

"okay," you quipped sweetly and began to walk back to your house, "if you need anything, just let me know, okay?"

he nodded, "okay."

his head was spinning and he couldn't think straight. he didn't want to be alone, didn't want to go inside, didn't want to leave and miss seeing you again. he could still smell the strawberry of your shampoo from where he was. it was intoxicating.

"choso," you called out and he snapped out of his daze.

"yes, miss?"

"can you come help me? i dropped my hose and it's really hard to pick up."

"o-okay."

you lead him around the side of your house and he saw the hose was indeed on the ground, the water running. his hands were shaking, but he bent down and picked it up anyway. the moment he stood, you grabbed his hand and placed it right on your chest. he squeaked and tried to pull away, but you held him tight.

"you can touch me," you hummed, "i don't mind. is that why you were watching me? do you like older women?"

"i- uh- well- you- you're-"

"use your words, choso," you chastised him and moved his hand lower, making him rub his fingers over your nipple, "good boys speak when spoken to. did i ever teach you that?"

"y-yes," he whined and his hips bucked into the air. you gave him a wicked smile and pushed him to the ground. he landed on his back, legs sprawled out. his cock was standing up, pressing against his shorts and there was a dark stain where his tip was.

"such a cute little thing," you giggled and knelt down in front of him. you grabbed his legs and pulled them apart before getting between them. he squirmed and you grabbed his hands, pinning them to the ground.

"please," he whimpered.

"please what? be a good boy and tell me what you want," you cooed, pressing his hands into the ground.

"i- um- please...touch me," he whispered.

"like this?" you hummed and reached down to rub his clothed erection. he bucked his hips into your hand and moaned.

"yes, please, miss," he gasped.

"good boy," you purred and kissed him, he was putty. "so good for me."

your hands moved to his hips and he lifted them so you could pull his shorts down. his cock was already leaking and twitching.

"you poor thing, did you get this hard just from looking at me?"

"y-yes, miss," he moaned, "i couldn't stop thinking about you, how pretty you were and how much i wanted you."

"oh, you're such a good boy, telling me exactly what you want," you cooed and gripped his cock, stroking it slowly, "i should give you a reward, hm?"

"please, please, please," he whined, his hips twitching up.

"okay," you replied and leaned forward. you pressed a soft kiss to his tip, smearing the pre-cum on your lips before wrapping them around him. his back arched and he let out a loud moan. he couldn’t believe this, anyone could see him and you. his parents could walk past the fence and catch you sucking off their son. but that was part of the fun. it was forbidden and he loved that.

the sounds of your gurgled chokes as you slurp his cock are like a siren's song to him, the way you so dutifully suckle him to the base and take his entire length in your mouth without a trace of resistance. your jaw is slack as he slides between your lips, his hand gently cradling the back of your head, urging you forward until your nose is pressed into his belly. he's so big that even though your eyes are rolled back, your vision is obscured by the sheer size of his erection. your throat feels like a fleshy sheath for him, your breath forced out in tiny, rapid huffs through your nostrils, and your tongue is pinned.

and you're not just sucking his cock, either. you're swallowing. and every time your esophagus clenches down around the head of his dick, it sends him hurtling closer and closer towards an orgasm that he's determined to wring out of you first. he can feel you starting to struggle for air, but the way you're still obediently sucking his cock even while your lungs burn from a lack of oxygen.

“god," he rumbles, his voice like the sound of boulders shifting together. his grip on the back of your head tightens, and he grinds against your face, your nose and lips mashed up against his skin.

your stomach growls and churns in a desperate plea for nourishment, but the way he fills your throat is a completely different hunger. you can taste his pre-cum, his magic thick and warm and tingling on your tongue, and you suck and swallow with more enthusiasm. even though you're struggling to breathe, the idea of drinking his cum makes you feel like a starving woman given the key to a buffet.

"j-just like that," he praises you, his words coming out in a hiss as you clench down on him, your throat tightening in a futile attempt to keep his cock from pushing so deep into your airway. he whines when you withdraw, a string of saliva connecting you two.

"you taste so good, choso," you murmured, "have you had many girls do this to you?"

"n-no, miss, never," he groaned, "only you."

"and do you want only me to do this to you? do you want me to be the only one that knows how good you taste and how cute you sound?"

"yes! yes, miss! i want it to be only you, please," he babbled. you smirked and kissed his hip.

"well then, i better take good care of my boy, huh?"

"please, please," he whined, pushing his hips toward you.

"okay, i'll make you feel really good, sweetie."

you took his cock back into your mouth, licking at the tip and stroking the rest. his head was spinning and he could hardly breathe. you felt too good, looked too good, sounded too good. your soft lips wrapped around him, sucking and licking, teasing and pleasing. it was too much and yet not enough. his body was on fire, burning and aching.

his knees buckle as your warm hand palms his balls and your tongue traces the veins of his cock. he lets out a whine and grips your hair. you pull off his dick, letting it fall against his stomach. you press a few soft kisses to his tip, watching as his cock twitches.

"miss," he whimpered, "it hurts, please."

"what does, sweetheart?" you asked.

"please, let me cum, miss," he begged.

"already? did i make you that horny?"

"please, miss," he whined and bucked his hips.

"alright," you hummed, taking him back into your mouth.

"thank you," he breathed.

you bobbed your head, taking him as deep as you could. his fingers tightened in your hair and he bucked his hips. your nose pressed against his pelvis and your throat clenched around him.

"i'm close," he moaned, "i can't, fuck, it's so good."

a few more thrusts, and his movements become erratic. you're dizzy from oxygen deprivation, the edges of your vision growing dark, when suddenly his cock twitches inside you, and his hot, sticky cum fills your stomach. there's so much of it that you're actually able to feel yourself swell a little with the volume of his release, and the sensation makes you whimper and whine.

"you did so well," you cooed, crawling up and laying next to him, "was that your first time?"

"yeah. . . s-sorry i finished so quick." he mumbled, cheeks tinted brightly.

"you did so good," you repeated, pressing a kiss to his temple, he felt like he was going to pass out.

“i’ll see you tonight at the barbecue, yeah?”

he nods, fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him.

*peeps around corner* dare i say part 2?

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki is and forever will be a massive baby.

and it’s all your damn fault, so he says.

you hadn’t even said anything bad. all you'd said was that he looked even more handsome today then he usually did. and he'd looked at you like you grew an extra head, and now he's like this.

you don't even really know what did it, but then again it could've been anything with katsuki. too much eye contact, too long eye contact. your hands lingering a little too long on his face or your fingers rubbing at the crease of his eyebrows.

you don't know what it is but he won't remove his head from your neck now, grumbling about how stupid you are.

"katsukii.."

"shut up." he hisses through gritted teeth like he's angry, and he is. look at what you do to him ! it drives him crazy. you drive him crazy.

yet you giggle, rubbing softly at his hair and he shoves his head into you harder, the angle he's forcing your neck at is awkward but you don't mind, you'll let him have his little tantrum as you stroke his blonde messy tufts of hair tickling your chin.

"all i said was that-"

"i heard you. the first time. shut the fuck up." his grip on your hips tightens to the point you think he'll make indents in your skin. hands practically steaming and boiling hot to show you the embarrassment he refuses to let show on his face. your smirk grows wider, god you love messing with your boyfriend.

"i don't get why you're so angry, baby." you coo sweetly and he growls from the deepest part of his throat. he squeezes at your waist, clearly wanting you to just stop talking. but of course. you don't.

"it's cus you—you fuckin'—" he splutters and cuts himself off, not finding a proper way to convey how much you make his skin burn and prickle and itch. how you have his heart buzz and beat so loud against his ribcage he's sure you can hear it. and how much he fucking hates it. (he doesn't)

so he does the next best thing.

"ouch !"

he bites you. the asshole.

you're such an asshat !" you whine, pushing at his shoulders, and he grumbles when he pulls away. he lightly nuzzles against the mark he's left into your skin as a sort of apology, you don't deserve a kiss right now. (he'll give you one later) then he pulls away to look at you.

"s'your own fault," he huffs, cheeks less bright then they first were when you'd made the irreparable mistake of complimenting him (in his eyes, you regret nothing) but still with a nasty scowl on his face.

"ya keep sayin' dumb shit so now you deal with the consequences," he presses his nose against your pulse point as he huffs hard into your neck to annoy you and it works because you grumble, you feel him smirk proudly.

two could play that game.

"what dumb shit ? the fact that you're handso-" you cut yourself off with a giggled squeal as katsuki drops you backwards onto his bed with a snarl. you snort and giggle when he blows raspberries and softly bites into your neck, helplessly trying to push him away with your limp arms.

"you just can't help yourself, can ya.." he tuts, grabbing your arms and pushing them against his bed, barely suppressed smirk on his face as he sees your eyes prick with tears, leaning back in to blow into your neck "think you’re funny ? hah ?!"

he ignores your giggled plea's and bites at your fingers when he leans back enough for you to push at his face.

"yuck ! you're gross !" you wheeze, still giggling as you see the lopsided smile on his face. he huffs at the exertion of keeping you still, he really isn't trying hard to convince you he isn't handsome when he looked like that.

"yeah ? i'm gross, huh ? right back at you," he leans in close to you again, smirk still playing on his face "saying mushy shit like that."

"yeah well, i'll keep sayin' it !" you retort, sticking your tongue out at him. he rolls his eyes and drops onto you, causing you to grunt out an 'oof !' sound. he's stays quiet until he presses a soft kiss onto your skin, right where he'd bitten you. unbeknownst to you, his expression softens as he tries to repress a smile. he scoffs.

"you're so damn weird." he utters affectionately.

[appocalipse]

the same thing ・❥・b. barnes

summary: during a mission, you put yourself in harm's way to protect bucky. back at the avengers compound, he wants to know why. | 1.4k words, angst with a happy ending

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"You should be resting."

You don't turn your head as the familiar voice comes from behind you, too focused on the delicate art of making the perfect sandwich to look away. You are a woman on a mission. "I was hungry."

A few seconds later, he's standing next to you, leaning back against the countertop with arms folded across his broad chest. "It's been less than twelve hours since they patched you up."

He's not going to stop hovering, you realize, because that's what Bucky does when he's worried.

"Want half?" Maybe you can distract him with food.

He regards the towering monstrosity on the cutting board and the chaotic layers of meat, cheese, and veggies sticking out at all angles.

You can't help but grin as you slap another slice of bread on top. "A quarter, then?"

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. "I'm not eating that thing."

You cradle the plate in your left hand, holding the sandwich with your right, and give him a pointed look. "Your loss."

Bucky just watches, arms still crossed, as you take a huge bite. His blue eyes remain narrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He's like a one-man intervention waiting to happen. You shrug and wander over to the kitchen table.

Sitting down is a bit of an effort. The wound on your side pulls as you slowly lower yourself onto the chair, but if you can keep from grimacing too hard, Bucky won't be able to tell, will he?

Your smile probably gives you away. He narrows his eyes further. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm hungry?"

"No." Bucky takes a step forward. "I meant why did you get between me and that shot?"

Good question. The answer is embarrassing and you'd sooner walk barefoot over hot coals than tell him the truth.

"Hm?"

Another step. "I have superhuman healing powers."

"I'll live."

"It was stupid."

"You're ruining my—ow," you mutter, dropping the sandwich as you instinctively put your hand over your bandage. There goes the carefully maintained poker face. You force yourself to remove your hand and look up at Bucky with what you hope is an innocent expression, even as your side throbs in protest. "My sandwich. You're ruining my sandwich. Are you sure you don't want a bite?"

Bucky is too smart to take the bait. He moves around the table, coming to stand in front of you. The whole 'arms-crossed-stern-glare' thing again. It would be intimidating if you didn't know him so well.

"You could've been killed," he's like a dog with a bone, you swear.

"But I wasn't," you say pointedly. "I'm fine."

"Fine? You were shot."

"Will you just let it go? It doesn't even...hurt...that much," you lie.

It will take a while for the super-soldier serum in your blood — a weaker variation of the same stuff that runs through Bucky's veins — to kick in and accelerate your healing.

Bucky exhales. He looks about ready to give you an earful, but then his gaze shifts and he notices the way you're holding your side, how stiffly you're sitting.

You move your traitorous hand away like you've been burned.

"How bad is it?"

"Huh?" you sound deliberately casual. Too casual. "It's...totally fine. Not bad, really. Don't worry. I don't even feel it."

There's the reason why you've never been a spy. You can't lie to save your life, apparently.

Or maybe just not to Bucky.

"Okay. It hurts, like, just a little bit...like—like not even hurts hurts, just..." you trail off with a grimace as he comes closer. "More of an itch?"

"An itch?" Bucky sounds dubious.

"More of a burn," you concede. "A...mildly annoying but totally manageable sort of a burn."

"You are a terrible liar."

"Okay, so it hurts," you snap, the last vestiges of your patience vanishing. "I have an extensive hole in my side, I get it. It's not—I don't want you to feel bad about it. It's really not terrible, I can take it."

Bucky shakes his head. "What if it had been worse? What if they'd shot you somewhere vital?"

"They didn't."

"But what if they had?"

"Then I would have died!"

Bucky looks at you like you just kicked him. "Yeah. That's what I'm trying to say."

You open your mouth, then close it.

"You think I want that?" he asks softly.

"No." You suddenly feel very small. "Of course not, I just...just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know," you admit with a sigh. "It's just that you are...people need you, you know? And you have a life, people who care about you, but I'm just..."

A nobody. A girl with no past, who can barely make sense of her present.

"...it would be better if it was me. That's all."

"It would never be better if you were hurt."

"Bucky—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he asks in a low voice. "People need you too."

You roll your eyes. "Please. You mean the team?"

"Me," Bucky says pointedly. "You think it's easy for me? When you get hurt? It kills me."

The sandwich lays forgotten on the table, squashed flat under your clasped hands. "It...kills you?"

He just looks at you for a long moment.

Your heart flutters in your chest. You have a sudden, intense urge to break the silence with a terrible joke, a quip, something light and witty to dispel the heaviness in the air and make this moment go away. But before you can open your mouth, Bucky shakes his head.

"You kill me."

Okay, that's not where you thought this was going. "What?"

"When you say stuff like that. When you make it sound like you don't matter, like it's okay for you to get hurt. Or worse. It's not."

Oh.

"Bucky," you try again, with a more serious tone. "I don't—"

"Stop saying that," he cuts you off.

You realize your mouth is still hanging open and snap it shut.

"You want to know what I think?" Bucky is so close now you could reach out and touch him, if you were brave enough. "I think that you got this...thing in your head, that you're not good enough, or strong enough, or that you're broken somehow. I think that you forget that it's okay to want things. I think that maybe you think nobody needs you. That no one wants you."

You swallow. You're afraid to say anything, to move, because your heart is hammering against your ribs and Bucky is looking at you like he can see straight into your soul.

"But I do."

"Do...what?" you whisper.

"Want you."

It's the last thing you expect to hear. "Bucky, you don't mean that."

His voice drops an octave. "Don't tell me what I mean."

Your cheeks are burning. You feel pinned under his gaze. Your side is throbbing again and you have a mouthful of butterflies and it's all just too much.

You move to get up but only make it halfway before the wound pulls again and you wince. "Shit."

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky reaches out to help you, one hand braced against your shoulder as you sink back down into the chair. His expression has softened. "You need to rest."

You really want to kiss him right now.

It's the closest he's ever been to you, perhaps. You can feel his breath on your face.

"I need to...? You really confuse me, Barnes."

"How so?"

"Well, first you tell me that I kill you, and then you say you want me. It's kind of a mixed message—"

"I'm not interested in being just friends with you," Bucky cuts you off abruptly. "Is that clear enough?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. There's a warm, tingling sensation in your chest and you suddenly can't breathe properly. "That's—you—"

Bucky smirks, just a little. He looks almost...proud of himself? Like he's happy he's rendered you speechless for once.

You decide to take a page from his book and put him on the spot. "And what do you think I want?"

"I don't know," he murmurs, leaning even closer. "But I hope it's the same thing."

His lips brush against yours, soft and gentle. He pulls away and you want to chase after him but then he's back again and kissing you harder this time, all teeth and tongue and ragged breathing and heat.

You close your eyes. Your head is spinning and you can't get enough air but you're kissing him back now, both hands coming up to fist in his shirt, holding on for dear life.

His mouth trails down your neck, leaving hot kisses along your jawline. You let out a breathy sigh.

"Is that...supposed to help me heal faster, mhm?"

Bucky just smiles against your skin.