#and during all this buck is not even powered he's not doing anything special to make up for what he fucked up he's just being buck

[epiphainie]

this is one of those fic ideas i wanted to write for every ship i've ever been into so it will probably never happen but i'd like to have a silly story with 40 yo, single, lonely tommy kinard who's been down on his luck all his life - like i'm talking ridiculous levels of mom dying at childbirth, dad being terrible, horrifically unfortunate experience of the military, a series of failed jobs, a series of failed relationships, friendships never sticking for long, risks he takes always going south, somehow getting paper cuts through chainmail gloves, missing the bus while trying to avoid his daily encounter with the neighbor's dog etc. - one day opening the door of his downtrodden studio apartment to this beautiful man who stands there like a fucking angel. who looks at tommy with big apologetic eyes, red cheeks of shame, and twiddling thumbs of guilt and stutters, "so, uhm, i wish you didn't have to learn it this way but hi, i'm the guardian angel who, as it turns out, misplaced your files about four decades ago, and so uhm it just resurfaced, haha, and like yeah, i've been banished here for penance. i'll take the couch, it's fine."

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

@bucktommypositivityweek // #BuckTommypositivityweek, day 2 | NICKNAMES AND TERMS OF ENDEARMENT

[AO3 version]

– When? –

There was something Buck couldn't get out of his head. 

A small thing, looking at the big picture, but he had always been a man of detail. He’d been thinking about it for several days now, nights even, although his head was resting comfortably in the crook of Tommy’s arm. 

Anyway, Tommy. He had probably said his name hundreds of times by now (a not inconsiderable number of them moans), and it still rolled off Buck's tongue with a certain awe.  Sometimes he woke up with a surreal feeling, wondering whether it could actually be true: fate was being kind to him, for once. All he had to do was turn his world completely upside down, and that hadn’t be hard. 

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was actually in a real relationship. The kind that led up to something true, something long-lasting. This felt good, so familiar and comforting, like he’d never felt before with anybody, not even with Abby. 

That's why it shouldn't be so damn difficult for him to come up with a pet name for Tommy. 

Strangely enough, he didn't expect the same from Tommy. He, too, had already called him Evan hundreds of times (some of them, yes, moans), and somehow, it was a distinction. A nickname is given to make sure you belong in your group of friends, and that had always been very important to Buck. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be Evan, a name untainted to Tommy who didn’t know what he’d done, how he’d been before. It was an accolade to be Evan for Tommy.

And maybe it was just a mature way to have a relationship, one in which you cultivated a connection that had no need for pet names. 

He didn’t really believe that. Actually, he didn't want to believe it, because every time Buck looked at Tommy, he became so insanely… soft. Not in the parts that mattered, of course, just… kind of weak, in a good way. Surely, Buck had always basically melted for any kind of affection, but this was different. Tommy was like a precious treasure that needed to be protected; a very special person who deserved a very special name. 

So Buck lay there night after night thinking about it, displeased with everything that crossed his mind. 

Baby? Nope. The man was almost 6’2’’ and a Muay Thai fighter, he could throw Buck if he wanted (and sometimes, they both wanted that). Darling? No way, even with Tommy's fondness for Hallmark movies. He contemplated sugar, honey, sunshine, sugar snap pea and beautiful (by God, the man was a sight for sore eyes) along with a dozen more. None of it was Tommy, none of it completely captured him. Tommy, for his part, didn't use pet names either, which of course might have been an indication that he thought it silly. No matter how he turned it around, Buck couldn't find a solution, and certainly not a suitable name. 

The average person speaks between 6,000 and 16,000 words a day, and maybe Buck should have just been satisfied that Tommy was now one of the most common words in his vocabulary. Fortunately, his everyday life offered enough distraction. Fate, however, finally decided to throw a spoke into his wheel.

In a week where temperatures reached nearly 104 degrees, the 118 suffered an unprecedented run of bad luck. There were minor mishaps, irritating breakdowns and outright accidents, leaving the fire station severely understaffed. Buck found himself working a 24-hour shift after a 48, which was anything but legal – however, he’d be the last person to tell the union rep. He wore his locker room’s spare clothing for three days, but with the crazy temperatures, people were straining too, so he barely got to take off his uniform anyway. 

The climax was reached on Monday evening. All the air conditioning systems running at full blast had overloaded the city's power system, and not for the first time. Broken traffic lights during rush hour caused drivers to go into a frenzy. There were also numerous sunburns and heatstrokes, fights and other altercations and, of course, several fires. 

Buck was extremely exhausted when they reached their next location, a chemical plant with numerous people complaining about vague symptoms. The prospect of possibly having to put on a chemical protection suit surely didn’t make him happy, and only the fact that Bobby held up excellently, despite his age and a few beads of sweat on his forehead, kept Buck going. Bobby, on the other hand, hadn’t been on duty for three days, and Buck felt these three days in every bone. 

There was no alternative to the protective suit, as thick smoke was billowing out of the factory when they arrived. However, there was no sign of a fire, which is why a closer investigation was essential. The yellow protective clothing was heavy and hot, and after just a few seconds, sweat was pouring down Buck’s back. He found it harder to breathe the deeper they went into the factory. 

“It's probably a chemical reaction,” Bobby said, ”be careful.”

According to the employees, there were various ways in which the substances stored in the factory could react with each other, and none of them were good. When he finally found the open barrel, Buck didn't think twice – despite Bobby's warning to be careful and Chimney's startled exclamation that he should keep his hands off it, he grabbed the heavy, metal lid. 

“What do you think's in there?” he gasped as he lifted it. 

“Just keep your nose out of it,” Chimney shouted.

Buck had every intention of doing so, but the lid was very heavy and his body was as exhausted as his patience. It would have been reasonable to wait until Chimney reached him to heave the lid onto the barrel together and stop the smoke. Instead, he tried to do it alone, stumbling under the weight and having to hold on to the barrel. The lid slipped from his grasp, clattering across the floor while Buck was completely enveloped in smoke. Dozens of possibilities for deadly chemical reactions flashed through his mind, and panic shook his whole body. But only very briefly – then, he collapsed unconscious. 

“Evan, sweetheart,” Tommy said, ”let me tell you a story.”

Buck thought he was dreaming. However, he had never had a dream in which his eyelids were so heavy; no, actually his whole body felt as heavy as lead. His head was pounding, as if on the verge of a migraine, and he kept his eyes closed. Realizing that he was lying in bed, the unmistakable sounds and smells made him suspect that he had won another stay in what Tommy had teased to be a 118-wing at the hospital.

Tommy. Who was obviously here too, probably sitting in one of those uncomfortable and far too small chairs next to his bed. For some reason, he had said he wanted to tell him a story, although he thought Buck was sleeping. Or maybe exactly because he thought him sleeping. 

Part of Buck wanted to open his eyes, look at his boyfriend and reassure him that he was all right. Another part, however, the far more tired part, just wanted to lie there and listen to Tommy's voice. That part of him tried to convince himself that Tommy had called him sweetheart. Had he? The only way to find out was to let him talk. 

“... absolutely unnecessary,” Tommy just said. Buck had missed the beginning of the sentence, but he had a good idea of what it was about. Indeed, “Hanging your head directly over a barrel of chemicals, really.”

It was really hard to argue against that, and besides, Buck still pretended to be asleep, so he didn’t even try. 

“You know,” Tommy continued softly, and Buck felt him reach for his hand. That was nice, and he had to hold back so as not to squeeze it. “In theory, it's all so simple,” Tommy went on. “You’re telling yourself that we both have potentially dangerous jobs, so we know what we’re getting ourselves into when we fall in love with a fire fighter.“

He paused, heaving a sigh. 

"But of course, that's not true. Something happens and you realize that you're more afraid than ever before in your life. Can you even imagine what it's like when you get one of these calls? Who am I fooling… of course you can. Doesn’t make it any easier, Evan.”

Tommy fell silent again and, presumably lost in thought, ran his hand over Buck's ring finger. It was a strangely intimate gesture, almost seminal, and for a moment Buck thought about opening his eyes. But Tommy was already talking on. 

“You realize that there are so many things you haven't done together yet, so many things you haven't said. What if you never have the chance? On the other hand, you're also afraid to say all this … that’s human, I guess. And, Evan, your doctor was just here, he said you only collapsed from exhaustion and a mild heatstroke, nothing that would cause permanent damage. So it would be easy to say nothing, and maybe I won't. But as long as you're asleep... perhaps this is the only time I dare. Because, Evan, sweetheart, I think I love you.”

Buck cracked his eyes open, despite his heavy eyelids.

“What did you say?” he croaked.

Tommy cocked his head, “How long have you been awake?” he asked. 

It was not a dream. He was really sitting there, his tall frame pressed into a tiny chair, with a soft gaze that didn't hide his concern.

“D-doesn't matter,” Buck mumbled, just a tiny bit ashamed. “Because you're right.”

“I'm right? That's nice to hear, but what am I right about?”

“That you should talk to each other while you can. I’ve been thinking about a pet name for you for a while, you know? It needed to be perfect.” 

“Ah,” Tommy returned, a twinkle in his eyes, “and now you heard me call you sweetheart for the first time, albeit in a moment of weakness, I’d like to add.”

Buck didn't go in for the joke, his gaze was serious as he replied, “Yeah, I think I was waiting for you to call me that.”

“Because it makes it more real.”

There was so much understanding and affection in Tommy's gaze that Buck felt dizzy. It might have only been the heatstroke, but his heart was practically overflowing in this moment.

“It-it does, I guess,” he said. “But then I realized that it's not a pet name that defines us. It's the things you mentioned. And I realized what I've known for a long time, Tommy.”

“What's that?” Tommy asked gently, as if he hadn't already suspected it. Yet it needed to be said, that was for sure.

“I love you too. And it must never be too late to tell you that.”

Tommy's jaw literally dropped, as if he had hoped, but not actually believed, that Buck felt the same way. No, rather as if he hadn't allowed himself to believe it. His features softened, and he squeezed the hand he still held with shaky fingers; so hard it almost hurt.  

“Tommy,” Buck said softly, “did the doctor also say anything about whether it's okay to kiss me?”

“No,” he replied in a raspy voice. “Would you like that?”

“I would. But wait.”

"Hmm?" Tommy went, casting a desirous glance at his lips. 

“Say it again.”

“Sweetheart,” Tommy breathed on Buck’s lips.

[true--north]

Excerpts from Lee's recent interview in South China Morning Post

For Frozen 2, Buck and she had asked themselves one question: how does Elsa have her special powers? “And we were like, ‘Oh no! There’s more story!’

“We knew we were hooked immediately.” In other words, they couldn’t let it go.

“That’s exactly it. I remember spending time literally doing personality tests on Elsa and Anna again.”

Character analysis is one of her obsessions; she has subjected both sisters to Myers-Briggs assessments and amuses herself imagining them tackling unlikely tasks.

It was during preparation work on Frozen 2 that Lee realised Anna was struggling, for the first time in her life, with fear. “She’s nervous because she has everything to lose,” she explains.

“In the first movie, she has everything to gain. But now, she has everything she’s always wanted and she feels the fragility of it.”

There’s certainly a darker flavour to Frozen 2, and “Into the Unknown”, in this viewer’s opinion, is even more of a blood-stirring Elsa clarion call than “Let It Go”.

And Olaf, the daffy snowman, is having an existential crisis. “Do you ever worry about the notion that nothing is permanent,” he asks. Loss is in the air, and there are some finely judged moments of grieving for parents and friends.

Lee, however, is now making Frozen 3, about which – she gives a knowing nod to communications Amy – she’s not allowed to say anything.

About four hours after this interview, Bob Iger, speaking live from Hong Kong, will tell Good Morning America that there “might be a Frozen 4 in the works” and that Lee’s working on two stories simultaneously.

Social media, of course, is already on the case; an avalanche of opinion that Elsa should be gay is gaining force. “That’s dangerous storytelling,” Lee says. “I hear it occasionally in the studio: ‘I don’t want a character who …’ But it’s not what you want, it’s ‘Who is this character? What does she need?’ It’s hard because you never know what the landscape is like on social media. You can only know what it’s like in that story room.”

The landscape she’s most enjoying at the moment, however, is Arendelle. “It’s an escape, it’s joyous – I’ll live here!”

“I look at all the stories in the films, and they can’t do the work for you – none of them can – but they’re all little lights in the dark.”

[neodracunyan]

Prologue - How It All Began….

Location: Somewhere in Danger Zone City

Date: March 14, 2019

Time: 9:30 PM

No POV

It started off as a simple day after Y/n's high school graduation and his parents kicked out of the house after he graduated high school and kept all of the money that he earned at his part-time somewhere in Creation City as well as his car for themselves and the only things that Y/n can keep was his clothes, and his video games.

The reason why though is not Y/n's fault as Y/n was planning to find an apartment to live in after he graduated, but his parents had to kick him out of the house before he could do anything because they don't want to wait and spend any money for a low-income apartment and Y/n was now out in the streets without a place to live and it's all because of his parents neglect and greed.

Luckily, Y/n was soon taken in by his childhood friend from Pallet Town named Silhouette and his trusty partner, Peanut Butter aka the Perfect Bidoof and they managed to give Y/n his own apartment that is not just low-income to pay the bills, but it's also rent-free. He was also given some special powers from Peanut Butter for being such a good friend to Silhouette as Y/n plans to use these newfound powers for good and to help him get through life in case he is in danger or something bad is happening around the world or during one of his adventures with his friends.

Then one night in Danger Zone City, when he got himself cornered by a bunch of thugs, he was saved by a heroic female hedgehog aka Sonia the Hedgehog, one of his favorite video game characters that just saved his own life as he thanked her for saving him and promised to pay her back one day, which turned to be her breaking into his apartment and decided to crash there since Sonic and his friends including her arch-enemy, Eggma'am were out of the job since Nintendo won the console wars.

Y/n was furious at Sonia for breaking into his apartment just to mooch off of him, but Y/n did promise that he will pay her back after she saved his own life, so he decided to let her stay until she can get back on her feet. Eventually Sonic's partner/sidekick, Mille Prower aka Tailsko started giving both Y/n and Sonia some job suggestion to earn some cash, which always end up very badly due to Sonia's poor work performance, but Y/n somehow managed to earn a few bucks during the jobs that he and Sonia worked since he is very experience with the jobs that Tailsko managed to find for them to do as he is pretty much, the jack-of-all-trades kind of guy.

Y/n has even made some friends ever since he got kicked out by his parents from Scorpion and Sub-Zero from Mortal Kombat to Mayor Haggar from Street Fighters (He also voted him for Mayor as well) and he even got to learn some fighting lessons from them in return.

So now that Sonia is Y/n's roommate and soon-to-be-girlfriend are going on a job hunt with a crew on their own, Silhouette, Peanut Butter, Tailsko, Eggma'am, Knuckles, and Earthworm Gen, things are about to go from bad to worse when Sonia does something really stupid that will make Y/n's life a living nightmare.

When will the Blue Blur ever learn?

Mind Eye Productions

Presents

Job Searching for Dummies:

Season 1: The Search for a High-Paying Job!

Sonic for Hire Series x Male!Reader

Written by NeoDracunyan

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

SFW🌿

▪️  You had met both Bucky and Druig during a mission. 

▪️ Although you weren’t considered an Avenger, you hated the term ‘hero.’

▪️ You preferred anti-hero, if you had to put a label on it

▪️ Your powers had appeared during a freak accident, that you still didn’t like to talk, or even think about. 

▪️ But the end result; you could manipulate the natural world

▪️ Air, Earth, Water, Fire - 

▪️ It made you a formidable opponent

▪️ And the best teammate 

▪️ Although sometimes it was difficult to reign in your power. That made you really insecure... but that was before Druig & Bucky.

▪️ With their help, you were able to control your power, truly make it your own. It was a deliriously happy moment - when you were able to completely integrate you and your power

▪️ It was in those hours that Druig and Bucky seemed to take to each other, like they formed a background crush on one another

▪️ Where it was obvious that they both had a thing for you. A deep thing. 

▪️ So yes, it did start off as a love triangle, with both men having a competition to gain your favour. 

▪️ But the world is crazy and you never know what will happen next, so you said: 

  “I’m not going to choose. I either have both of you, or neither.”

▪️ And damn, that was a boss moment, because both men looked at each other and shrugged

▪️ “Together then,” Druig had said, breaking the silence 

▪️ From then on, the three of you were always grouped together. Whatever happened before you got together was never talked about. 

▪️ Your relationship was the start of your story 

▪️ Druig’s favourite thing to do is piss off Bucky, and at the very least - tease him relentlessly

▪️ Although he can’t go with the old man jokes because ... he’s older than Bucky 

▪️ You all work because Bucky is the backbone of the relationship, but can become very depressed, Druig has humour and mischief but too can become grumpy with too much outside human interaction, and you’re their hope. Their light in life. 

▪️ It really works because you’re all introverts

▪️ You’d rather be at home, reading, writing, or watching tv with the guys

▪️ And they feel the same way

▪️ Druig has seen the world, the best and worst of it

▪️ Bucky has sacrificed a lot for the world

▪️ And you have endured a lot of trauma

▪️ So you all live in your own little bubble 

▪️ Bucky is actually a pretty good cook

▪️ But Druig hates cooking - he doesn’t want to waste his time making anything too complicated 

▪️ So you and Bucky are usually in the kitchen, cooking up a storm, while Druig makes sarcastic remarks from across the room 

▪️ Oh and you have two cats, one black and one white

▪️ Their names are Sam and Magnus

▪️ Yes one is named after Sam Wilson, and when he visited your place and found out, all he did was laugh

   “You know what Buck? I’m flattered!” 

▪️ And no, Druig doesn’t use his mind-control, you and Bucky have forbidden it. 

▪️ But he can do it to assholes when you’re out and about. Especially drunk ones 

▪️ After a while, you guys would go and do vigilante stuff

▪️ Because you felt bad that awful things were happening and the police were doing nothing about it 

⭑ Relationship Tropes: 

  ✧ Asshole (Bucky) x Also An Asshole But It’s Hard To Tell Because Of Their Cute Exterior (You) x Even More Of An Asshole (Druig)

  ✧ Just a bunch of anti-heroes, bickering about when/why they should help

  ✧ This Probably Shouldn’t Work But Hey, It Actually Does

  NSFW🔞minors dni!

▪️ Druig is a sub, and he gets into that headspace quite easily. He wouldn’t normally be so easy to let others control him, but he feels safe with Bucky and yourself. 

▪️ Bucky automatically takes control; knowing what he wants and what he wants the both of you to do. 

▪️  And on special occasions, you have both men tied up, begging for you to touch them. 

▪️ Druig likes to be kissed on his chest, especially his nipples 

▪️ Bucky likes when you pull his hair and bite his earlobe 

▪️ Bucky likes to be pegged, and would most definitely take it from Druig. 

▪️ Druig isn’t a bottom though, only a sub. He likes the teasing, the edging and nearing orgasm. 

▪️ Bucky was against the sex toys at first, feeling somewhat hurt that his body alone wasn’t enough. But you both had to explain to him that that was not the reason at all

▪️ And now he’s a sex toy fiend 

▪️ He’s constantly *slyly* suggesting to go to the sex store 

▪️ Druig barely gets embarrassed, seriously, about anything. And at the beginning of the relationship, he took great pride in getting Bucky as red in the face as he could 

▪️ They both love playing with your chest, sucking on your nipples 

▪️ Oh and they both adore giving head

[howdoyousleep3]

Rating: Explicit (E) Word Count: ~ 5.2 K (i have no chill, it seems) Notable Tags: Mafia Boss Steve Rogers, Daddy Kink, Age Difference, Established Relationship, Manhandling, Spanking, Slapping (pussy and face), Crying, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Light Breathplay, Office Sex, Desk Sex, Possessive Behavior, Flirty Bisexual Bucky Barnes A/N: Ugh y'all, these two. This has been in my WIP folder for so so long now and I'm thrilled to finally finish it and share it, even if it almost ended me and even if I hated it by the end because I'd been staring at it for far too long. 😅 Special thank you to those who looked it over and reassured me constantly, @vilkasdaina, @maddiewritesstucky, and @sweeterthanthis. Find more of Daddy and his Kitten's story here. Read on Ao3 here. I hope you enjoy! 🧡

You try your hardest to not let the power go to your head. 

The love of your life may be the feared and respected leader of the underbelly of the east coast, but you know who he comes crawling back to each night, who has the honor of worshiping him in a way that no one has had the privilege to before. 

While you try your hardest to not let said power go to your head, it never fails to do just that each and every damn time you’re reminded of your possession over each other. And if it goes right to your pussy as well as your head, who can blame you?

The moment you catch Bucky’s eye from down the hallway, you can hear the relief in his voice, can see it in the way he takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders drop. 

“Fuck, doll— I’ve never been happier to see someone in my whole fuckin’ life,” he exclaims as his eyes run down the line of your body, his eyebrow arching immediately. You aren’t sure why he’s surprised; he warned you that pulling out all the stops was necessary on a day like today. 

“I’m happy I could make your day,” you joke as you reach for each other in greeting, Bucky’s fingers wrapping around your nape, lips pressing tightly against your cheek. He smells like spearmint, a bit musky like he’s worked up a sweat at some point during the day. You’re almost certain it’s sweat brought on by his boss and you already feel the need to apologize on his behalf for working Bucky up over what is assuredly nothing.

“Sweetheart, if you can fix his fucking attitude you’ll make more than just my day.” 

You’re sure you should be offended on some level, degraded maybe, but being called in to help improve Steve’s piss poor mood makes you feel special, makes you hot right where it counts. Knowing that others have done what they can to help improve his mood, his sharp tongue and his short patience, with no success makes you feel unique, privileged, one of a kind. It makes you hold your chin high. 

You know what your Daddy needs, know that you hold the answer to what will improve everyone’s day, starting with Steve’s own. Everyone knows why you’re here, everyone knows what you can bring to the boss that no one else can, and you aren’t ashamed in the slightest. 

You’re almost tempted to drop the thin, knee-length jacket you’re donning to the floor right where you stand outside Steve’s office. Then there would be no trace of doubt left behind as to why you’re here and what you’re bringing to the boss. 

“Anything I should know?” you inquire softly, Bucky immediately sighing and running a hand down his face in response to your question. 

“Nothin’ new, same prick as always, just maybe…times ten. Can’t get two words out without him snapping at you, not one goddamn thing is good news. Dealt with some trouble down in the borough himself, went a bit far. Might still be bloodied up from that. Didn’t even lift his spirits any.” 

It’s worse than you thought. Your plan immediately shifts in your head where you stand. He doesn’t need a docile, sweet partner— he needs that final push. You nod your head, mind quickly made up, and turn towards Steve’s office doors. 

“You sure you don’t wanna stick around, Buck?” you tease quietly, and it’s indeed a bad day if Bucky, although he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, shakes his head as he begins to walk away. 

“Goddamn, you know I’d love to, doll. But I can’t stick around and look at his ugly fuckin’ mug for one more second; I gotta go do some damage control. He may owe me for this, but I owe you.” 

Another time then. 

You wouldn’t have needed Bucky’s warning to know that Steve is indeed having an awful day; the state of his office is enough of a sign that things are not going well. Chairs are misplaced, papers scattered and quite obviously unorganized on both the coffee table and his desk. Steve enjoys a calm work environment, is a man that prioritizes tasks daily, enjoys sunlight and openness, demands serenity from the aspects of his life he can control. 

Steve is not having a very good day. 

You don’t bother locking the door; you aren’t worried about others seeing you with the boss. You almost hope it happens; it might improve his mood even further. You make quick work of the belt on your coat, slipping it off from your shoulders and draping it along the back of a chair. The crisp air of Steve’s office slips up your spine, your neck, down your nearly nude form. It’s comforting as it spreads across your heated body, has your shoulders squaring on their own accord. 

Your matching lingerie set is black and sheer, leaves nothing to the imagination with the strings of your thong resting high on your hips and your bra cupping your breasts perfectly. You leave your heels on, just as he’d like, same with your stockings. Steve is weak for the feel of their sheerness, softness, on his skin and you’ll take any sort of help you can get. 

His back is turned to you, his attention placed solely on whatever it is he is looking at at the table behind his desk. Even hunched over and irritated, he exudes such natural power and dominance you can’t help the warmth that builds between your legs, the way your eyelids droop at the sight of him alone. His dark slacks, his crisp white dress shirt that’s open at the collar, the ring on his pinky and the matching gold of a watch at his wrist, the ink that litters his body with purpose— he’s so obviously a man in charge. 

You want to console him, want to press your lips to his temple and hum, want to sit yourself in his lap and ground him, but from what Bucky has told you, that won’t work today. You're racking your brain of how to proceed when Steve is the one to speak up first.

You should have known that he would be more than aware of your presence. You’re the one that has snuck into his office unannounced and here he is, speaking up with a stern enough voice that it startles you. 

“What are you doin’ here, kitten?”

His tone demands an answer, an honest one and a quick one. It’s an impatient tone you aren’t used to but one that fits this environment. You’re bristled at his shortness but you don’t let it show, keeping your chin high and voice firm. 

“What do you think I’m doing here?” you respond with, beginning to slowly make your way in Steve’s direction, heels muted against the sprawling rug in his office, trailing your fingertip over the leather seats as you prowl. He scoffs then, a tiny noise that could be mistaken for something it isn’t, but to you it almost feels like a slap to the cheek, and not the kind you’re fond of. 

You continue to take steps in his direction nonetheless.

He turns and looks over his shoulder and there’s a brief moment where you feel you’ve won, where you feel victorious in your purpose in the way he allows himself  to drink you in, eyes damn near a physical touch as they roam your form. It is but a moment though, and he’s quick to turn his attention back in the other direction. 

You don’t think he’s ever rejected you. 

In fact, he’s always been quick to do the opposite, to make you more than aware that he craves you day and night. 

You’re immediately miffed, more than so. You look like a fucking bombshell, you left work early, you’re ready to help melt the stress away from your boyfriend’s day— how dare he not drop everything and crawl in your direction? 

You think you’re angry now, but then you hear him mumble a curt, “I’m a bit busy here, sweetheart,” and that’ll do it. 

Fuck him. 

You can’t even stop to see this situation from his point of view, can’t calm your emotions long enough to consider the circumstances that brought you here. You’re standing here in stockings and sheer lingerie and red bottoms and he wants to dismiss you? No, no. You don’t even hesitate to go for the kill, go right for what will piss him off the most. 

“Oh, that’s fine,” you start, voice deceivingly angelic as you glance down at your pristine manicure, paid for by him of course. “Bucky seemed to think I could come make your day, but if you want to be a dick about it, I’ll go see if he is willing to take full advantage of all of this.”  

You don’t even wait for him to say anything, digging your heel into the carpet as you turn your back on him, your body trembling all over in anger. You make sure he gets an eyeful though, the cherry on top surely being the sway of your hips, the view of your ass he can never say no to. 

You make it two steps towards the door after reaching for your coat before his hands are on you.

He wraps a thick arm around your waist, his other hand coming up to curl around the front of your throat, yanking you back against his chest. You can immediately feel the way his own body trembles with caged emotion, and while it should be a comfort to you, it is anything but. It could be pent up emotions from the day, it could be ones you’re bringing out right now. It could be a combination of the two. Either way, you do not find solidarity in your shared outbursts.

The fight within you is strong. You’re ready to take him on and if he wants to go about it in such a physical way, then so be it.

“You wanna run that by me again, kitten?” he spits lowly into your ear, holding you roughly against the rigid line of his much larger body. You don’t make it easy for him, twisting and bucking as much as you can as he pulls you back further into his office, further away from the door. As physically useless as the fight is, pushing back feels good. You dig your blood red nails into his forearm, thrash against his hold. 

“Yeah, sure,” you bite out like a brat, making sure to speak clearly. “If you’re not going to take advantage of me, I’m sure Bucky would love to. In fact—” 

Your words are muffled by his hand, the last of them drowned out by his growl. You kick over a chair as he picks you up off the floor, knocking it to the ground as you flail, and as you reach his desk, you happily tear your teeth into Steve’s palm. He only grunts in frustration, hand coming back down to your neck in an instant, frustration evident in the way his fingers curl around the column of it.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” he whispers against your temple, and you can’t stop your husky laugh as it tumbles out of your mouth. 

“Daddy doesn’t mean that.”

With a noise of frustration, he has you shoved over his desk at the waist, hip bones digging sharply into the expensive oak. Your coat is long forgotten a few steps back and his hand is on your ass without pause, squeezing roughly at one cheek and then the other. The set of smacks that follow are startling, painful and succinct. 

You love it.

The huff you let out is intended to be one of irritation, of shock, but instead it comes out laced with throaty pleasure. Damn Steve Rogers and the size of his hands, his strength, his intimate knowledge of everything that makes your pussy throb and your walls crumble for him and only him. 

He may have you deliciously and physically restrained, but you’re still more than upset he didn’t want a taste of what you’ve brought to him, a taste of this. But he still hasn’t covered your mouth, and you’re not quite done pushing his buttons. 

“Daddy loves it when my mouth is wide open. Right, Daddy? Didn’t you say something like that last night?” 

You rarely speak to him this way, goading and aggressive, and you momentarily question whether or not you’re crossing a line. That is, until you feel his cock dig into the cushion of your ass cheek, the grind unintentional if his grumble turned bitten-off groan tells you anything. Perfect— you’ve just figured out how to help improve your boyfriend’s mood. 

You roll your ass back into his cock, swirl your hips back against his bulge.

With a snarl, he flips you, tosses you onto your back onto his desk. 

Goddamn. You pause for a moment to take note of how fucking hot Steve is when he’s angry. It’s different when it’s at you, you see this now. You’ve witnessed his anger directed at others, but you’ve not once been on the receiving end of it. Maybe you should make him angry more often. 

His chest heaves as he looks down at you, stormy eyes slow to rake over your surely flushed body, a normally slicked-back lock of hair curling over his forehead. The tattoos that lace the column of his throat seem more pronounced with his open collar and his heaving chest. There isn’t a stray beard hair in sight, the salt and pepper hairs trimmed close to his skin. The pause drags on for a few seconds more and you almost feel the need to heel and spread your legs and to give in. But that’s not what Steve needs. 

Instead you spread your legs and bring the point of your heel up to dig into his shoulder. 

He visibly grits his teeth as he gazes down hotly at you, his hands coming to grip your waist tight enough to make you wince. But you don’t break eye contact, even as he leans into your heel, even as he digs it further into his shoulder. Fuck, you’re in love with this man. 

“You think Bucky would tell me to keep my mouth closed?” you whisper without shame, leaning up onto your elbows to drive the point home. “You think he’d appreciate me coming into his office in his favorite pair of panties of mine, just about begging to be fucked?” 

It’s harsh, yes, but you’re still upset and you have a job to complete; you’re not a quitter. And it pays off immediately when Steve all but growls, “You think he can give you somethin’ I can’t?” 

Perfect.

You dig your foot into his chest with a hard shove. 

“No.” 

You can’t see the confusion in Steve’s features but you know it’s there. He can stay light on his feet all he wants but you’re hard to keep up with, you know this. 

Dropping your foot from his shoulder, you wrap both of them around his waist, damn near yanking him towards you. The impressive bulge in his pants is hard as steel and you whimper softly yet unashamedly when it grinds in tight against your panty-covered pussy, eyes still on his. Feeling his need for you, it’s easy for the anger to slightly clear and for you to finally consider the kind of day he’s had, that he needs you to prove to him that this is part of your purpose as his partner. 

“No, he can’t, Steven,” you sternly tell him, voice low yet demanding as you reach for the collar of his shirt, tugging. “No one can give me what you can give me.”

A spark of a flame reaches his eyes then, hitting him right where it counts, right in that possessive bone in his body. You speak into his mouth, his warm breath on your tongue causing your chest to constrict.

“But if you want to be a dick about me showing up looking hot as fuck, showing up just so you can fuck me and go about your day as the boss, then yes— I’m gonna tease you about someone else appreciating me” 

Steve rolls his hips slowly, deeply, rumbles as he rakes his hands up your torso to palm roughly at your breasts over your bra, your nipples pebbling immediately. He pinches them both before his hands are moving on. You hiss, clit throbbing at the rough attention. 

“You’re a real fuckin’ piece’a work. You know that?”

You dig your heels into his back when you huff, brazenly nipping at his chin. 

“Of course I know that. Now, fuck me, Daddy. Take it out on me, use me to feel better. Come on.” 

Steve never needs to be told twice; he’s a man of action. He takes full advantage of being told he has complete access to your body, reaching for the strings of your panties and ripping them down your legs carelessly. 

“Of fucking course you wore the stockings. Knew from the moment you walked in here. With these on, you’re up to no fuckin’ good.”

He grabs and squeezes at handfuls of your thighs as he speaks and you finally cave and give into the moment with a whine, head falling back onto the desk. Steve shoves your legs apart in the air around his body, his hand coming down tightly over your bare pussy, first one time and then a few smacks after that. Fuck. The sting of it is exactly what you want, what this moment is worthy of, and you clench desperately around nothing in response. 

“Motherfucker,” you damn near snarl, and where you’d normally spread your legs further and pout, you try your hardest to pull them tightly closed. Steve needs a fight, needs to burn off more energy than a normal fuck will provide him with. He proves you right once more when he pries your legs apart, uses a kind of force that you rarely see. You’re no match for his strength. Your legs are barely pressed together for two seconds before he’s got them spread yet again with a growl. 

You barely get out a hiss of “Yes,” before he’s draped over you, mouth latching onto your neck. It’s so much. In your head you hadn’t got as far as this, your plan only reaching up to you convincing Steve to have his way with you, and even that hadn’t gone as planned. You hadn’t considered how difficult it would be to keep your goal and purpose in the forefront of your mind while Steve actively ravaged your body. 

His mouth is brutal on your neck, the press of teeth and the suction of lips enough to leave you gasping, your hands making weak attempts at pushing him away. You feel him reach between your bodies and fumble with his belt, the zipper of his pants, and you force out an impatient noise to rile him up further. 

“Come on, Daddy— give it to me,” you murmur, reaching around to dig your hands into his ass. “Show this little pussy why you’re her Daddy, why you own her.” 

“Fuckin’ hell, kitten…”

He brings his hand up to his mouth, collects spit on a few of his fingers, brings them back down to his cock. He doesn’t slam his way inside of you, and while he ensures you aren’t in unwanted pain, that first deep slide is enough to shove you halfway to your climax already. The girth of him never fails to take your breath away, to send you sailing into orbit. 

His deep and appreciative groan is enough to have made all of this shit worth it, the chaos that was this almost failed attempt at providing your boyfriend with stress relief. It’s also enough to send you that much closer to your orgasm. 

There is no difference between the pushiness and aggression leading up to this point and this moment; Steve fucks you with unabashed emotion and need. You aren’t used to this, this sort of raw need, this force. The walls of your pussy strain to take him, to adjust. The sensation of Steve on top of you, between your legs, the whole weight of him pressing you into his desk, being selfish is foreign. 

Where Steve is usually smooth and focused and giving, this version of him is anything but.

He isn’t concerned about you for a second, not your pleasure or your feelings. His hands delve up into your hair, the both of them, twisting them as he fucks roughly up into your pussy, grinding and rolling and humping. He holds you where he wants you, restricts your movements and keeps you where he can best get his dick soaked. It’s a form of bliss you’ve not once experienced, and your shared eye contact, this heavy gaze he refuses to break, makes you choke on a sob. 

“Fuck it,” you bite out against his mouth, barely able to hear your words over the rush of blood in your ears, over the sound of him fucking into you with abandon. “You fuck that pussy like no one else can, Daddy. That’s Daddy’s pussy.”

Steve curses. Even as you say the words, you feel them directly in your clit, the throb of them intense. The forceful grinds with every other thrust presses the base of Steve’s cock tight against your clit, each one making you choke down a whimper. You’re shaking where you lay, nails digging encouragingly into the meat of Steve’s ass, legs spread wide, knees pressed back towards your shoulders. Steve has full access to you, as he deserves. The glide of him is sublime, the stretch of him enough to leave you panting, in and out, in and out. 

Your pussy feels so good being used the way that it is. You can’t catch your breath.

You aren’t the least bit surprised when your orgasm tears through you.

“Oh shit, that’s yours, that’s Daddy’s. That pussy comes for Daddy, all for—”

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna milk me fuckin’ dry. Haven’t even been inside’a you for a minute and you’re fallin’ apart.” 

You openly sob, tears springing to your eyes as the sensitive walls of your pussy suck Steve in, flutter and pulse around his girth. He doesn’t stop, cock digging into that sweet spot inside of you, movement prolonging your orgasm as you groan. Your pussy is so wet you can feel it soaking the inside of your thighs, the base of Steve’s cock. 

You have half the mind to note that your plan is working, that Steve is finding his footing again, that he’s confident and feeling dominant, in charge. You can’t hold back your lax smile, and the way Steve all but scoffs at the sight of it makes you turn your face and reach for his teeth with your jaw. 

“Surely that’s not all you’ve got,” you hear yourself pant shakily, your voice and the way your limbs tremble betraying you in an instant. “Come on, big daddy— show ‘em why you’re the boss.”

He’s climbing onto the desk, still inside you, without a second thought. 

“Yes, yes—”

“Un-fucking-believable…” 

The smile that’s spread across your face is only present for a few seconds before you’re biting it away, Steve’s hands in your hair moving, one curling to scruff you by the nape of your neck. The other tears at your bra, impatiently ripping one cup down, your breast spilling out and into his waiting hand. He squeezes at you roughly, fingers smacking down tightly over your nipple. 

Your head bounces with his thrusts, only to be pulled back by Steve’s hand on your nape. He uses you like a doll, like a toy. It all makes you want to scream: the new angle allowing for Steve to fuck messiliy into you, the complete physical dominance, the animalistic noises Steve continues to let out, how wet and wrecked you feel and sound. It’s enough for tears to begin to stream down your face. 

Looking back, you’ll surely blame it on how startlingly emotional you became as he fucked you mercilessly, how unprepared you were for your body and mind’s reactions. You may blame it on how cockdrunk you are, how out of your mind the feeling of Steve dicking you down so thoroughly made you. 

You raise your hand and bring it down hard across his cheek. 

The crack of it is so shocking to you, both in sound and sensation on your palm, that you gasp raggedly. The moment seems to have called for it, such harsh treatment, but you hold your breath when Steve grunts, hips stilling, eyes wild when his head snaps back down to look at you. 

When he doesn’t say anything, you whimper, your whimper easily turning into a hiccup, too nervous to speak.

He punches his hips forward, silencing you with the stretch of him, with feeling him up in your guts. You blink back your tears as you bite down onto your lip.

“Again,” he finally rasps out, the hand on your nape slipping around to the front of your throat, squeezing. “Fuckin’ hit me again, kitten.” 

That’s it for the both of you.

Your opposite hand is up in the air and you do what you can to bring it down onto Steve’s other cheek with another sob, all while he fucks into you so roughly your body scrapes across his desk with every thrust. The smack is sloppy and only slightly makes contact with his jaw, but it’s enough to send the two of you hurtling towards your orgasms. 

Yours is so blinding it almost hurts, the way it bursts from your center and outwards. You can’t make a noise, a scream lodged in your throat, body making a valiant attempt at arching up into Steve’s own, shaking. You lay there and take your climax, let Daddy rob it from your body, drink it up. 

You know he’s coming by the way he squeezes your throat and bites out a gritty, “Fuck.”

“You better think twice about comin’ into my office and teasin’ me with your pussy again, little girl,” he pants into your ear, voice rougher than you’ve ever heard it to be, just able to cut through the fog in your mind. “Fuck, you wanna come up into my office tellin’ me you’re gonna go let somebody else have what’s mine?”

There’s not an ounce of fight left in you as your pussy continues to pulse and quiver around his cock, as you lay there splayed for him, taking his load.

“No, no! It’s Daddy’s, s’daddy’s pussy, all for Daddy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m—” 

You’re babbling nonsense, the roll of Steve’s hips not slowing, the stroke of his cock along your inner walls making you dizzy. Your voice has turned nasally, small and whiny, just like Daddy likes it. Steve’s hand trembles around your neck. You can feel his come leak out of you, how messy you feel as he continues to fuck into you, hips slowing but not halting like you’re used to.

“No,” he groans, shaking his head, his lips smearing messily against your cheek, your jaw. “You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for, baby. You know me so fuckin’ well, know just what your Daddy needs. You’re perfect, fuck, a perfect goddamn angel.” 

Euphoria. 

There’s nothing else he could have said that would make you feel the way you do now. You’re pushing overstimulation, thighs trembling around Steve’s waist, chest heaving as you’re left sucking air into your lungs. Your body and mind have been sent to hell and back and you didn’t realize how badly you wanted to hear Steve reassure you that this was okay, that everything you’ve done and said was acceptable. 

You pull him down to you with another hitch in your breath, fingers slipping through his hair, arms winding around his neck.

He begins to litter your face with kisses once he finally does slow and eventually stops the slide of his cock, hissing, body settling down onto your own with a heaving sigh. The weight of him is hefty but welcomed, the reminder of his sturdiness something that you let settle into your bones. 

“Don’t be sorry, kitten. I won’t allow it. Not after that.” 

You hum.

“So bossy,” is all you murmur into his beard, your legs slipping down the backs of his own, holding him close. 

“I’m pretty sure you were just tellin’ me to prove I was the boss, so…”

You merely harrumph in response; you’re done arguing for the day, possibly the week.

After a few blessed, silent moments of breathing and coming down from your shared high together, you begin to let a sense of accomplishment slip through your mind. You were brought in to help, to bring Steve out of his head and to improve his mood and therefore the mood of everyone else in his presence. You’ve made a difference, have helped your Daddy, were thoroughly dicked down in the process. And even though this was more emotionally heavy than you anticipated, you feel good. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve eventually breaks the silence with, pulling his head back in order to look you in the eyes as he apologizes. He always has to look you in the eyes when you’re sharing serious words. Communication is something he values highly, your constant honesty with one another a must for him and in turn you. In his line of work, how he spends his days, he can’t risk the two of you not being on the same page.

He kisses your lips softly, his hands slipping through your hair.

“I’m sorry for not giving you the attention you deserved when you walked in here, baby.” 

You shake your head. “I should have been more cognizant of your mood and how your day has gone. I’m sorry too.” 

He kisses you again, once and then twice, lips soft and gentle with your own. 

“What I’m not going to apologize for,” he whispers then, voice deep and mischievous, “is everything that led up to you smackin’ me.”

You giggle, first softly and then louder as Steve grips your chin and doesn’t let you shy away from his eye contact. He nips at your chin. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. Where the hell did that come from?” 

“I don’t know! I…it just felt right. I’m so—” 

“Nope,” he cuts you off quickly, nose nudging your own. “No apologizing, I already said that. You’re perfect. I’m serious— this was just what I needed.”

You sigh into his next set of kisses, exhaustion slowly seeping into your bones.

“Well, you’ll have to thank Bucky for this later.” 

“I will do no such thing.” 

He slips from your body then, motioning for you to stay where you are and to not move. You don’t think you could sit up without help. He comes back from the adjacent bathroom looking everything provider and Alpha and Daddy, slacks buttoned and white shirt tucked into them. He cleans you off with a warm washcloth, puts the pieces of your sexy getup that are out of place back to where they belong. His hands linger on your thighs, stroking at the softness of your stockings. 

He touches you with such gentleness and care. It’s so different from the touches he gave you just moments before, the ones you can feel growing sore already. 

“I love you,” you find yourself whispering once he’s pulled you into a sitting position on his desk, taking a seat behind it in his chair. He pulls you easily to the edge, takes both of your hands into his own, brings them each to his lips. 

“I love you as well, sweetheart,” he purrs, hands moving to grip at your hips, to pull at them like he does when he’s feeling ready for another round. Surely he isn’t, not after that. He leans forward, kisses the top of each of your breasts. 

“I was rough on you wasn’t I, kitten? Gonna have to make it up to her later, get my mouth on her and give her kisses to—” 

Bucky doesn’t even knock when he enters the office, walks right in as if it’s his own. He doesn’t care that you’re practically naked, that you’ve obviously been fucked to the edge of your life, that the two of your are surely flushed and marked enough to prove what you’ve just been spending your time doing. He walks right up to Steve’s desk, hands in his pockets, casual. 

“You missed the show, Buck,” Steve grumbles, pulling you closer and gathering you into his lap, not wanting your near naked body to be seen by his right hand man. As if he hasn’t seen it before. Bucky whistles low, throws a wink over your way that you catch over your shoulder. 

“Oh, no no no,” Bucky rumbles knowingly. “I don’t think anyone in this house missed that show…Daddy.”

[gingersnaaps]

"yes" is conditional

the whorification of y/n, courtesy of one kuroo tetsurou and his special... talents <3

wc: ~2.4k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): dubcon, expicit n*fw, brainwashing/conditioning, mindbreak, bimbofication, mental aphrodisiac, exhibitionism mentions, uh implied sexual slavery(there's a cage at the end??), corporate!setting, fem!reader with inner genitals,

a/n: written for @sugawara-sweetheart and her decadence collab!

i don't want minors interacting with my content

The movies always get it wrong.

Kuroo thinks it’s hilarious how far off the mark they can be, honestly. He’s seen countless renditions of what people think mind control is like, and it’s always so corny and contrived - it’s not like he forces anyone to do things they don’t actually want to. He just… makes suggestions.

Nobody actually knows where their own thoughts come from, do they? So it’s almost too easy to place a suggestion or two in the back of someone's mind and pass it off as their own idea.

Most of the time, people are all too happy to comply with these suggestions.

And Kuroo’s more or less content with the free drinks he receives, the frequent raises his boss dishes out, and the one-night stands he easily gets as a perk of his little power. He really does enjoy the gifts other people seem to drop into his lap and the temporary flings he always finds himself in.

But he’s bored.

He wants more. He’s had enough of the short-lived gratification every time he persuades another pretty girl to come home with him.

So when he sees you walk by his office window, with your head always ducked low and your modest outfits all prim and put-together, it’s out of a passing curiosity - just a whim - that he starts his experiment. He wants to know just how far he can go in suggesting ideas and replacing thoughts, just how deep he can reach, and you’re perfect. You’re an unassuming and quiet coworker, you don’t attract attention, and he can tell that you’re one of those good girls just from the way you flush and avert your gaze when he talks to you.

Besides, he’s always wondered what your ass would look like in tighter skirts. Or, alternatively, with no clothes on at all.

Kuroo decides to make a project out of you.

As the days pass, he makes sure to time his coffee breaks so they sync up perfectly with yours. He makes sure not to do anything too overt, though - he doesn’t make you give him your number right off the bat, or ask you out immediately, or even drop any compliments. He wants to play it a little more subtle this time.

You find that you can’t help but take note of him, partly due to his constant presence, but also because you just can’t seem to tear your eyes away. Suddenly, there’s an insistent urge in the back of your mind constantly telling you where to direct your gaze, a little voice that whispers out how good his collarbones look, or how his back muscles ripple out under his shirt when he stretches. Your eyes seem drawn to his - and every time you make eye contact, you start flushing furiously, a tingling warmth spreading down your spine and into your cunt.

When you pass by his office, all he has to do is flash a cheeky grin, wink, and just like that, your panties are fucking soaked. You don’t know why you’re no longer able to control yourself around him, but it must be natural, right? It’s normal to have a relationship with a coworker go from completely platonic to you fantasizing about him stuffing your cunt full, right?

If he’s going to be honest, Kuroo likes seeing how horny he can make you every time he’s close by. He likes the way your face heats up, the way that cute body of yours seems to tense up, the way you cross your legs a little bit tighter when he walks by.

It’s not hard to make up fantasies to put in your mind, either - Kuroo thinks about you nearly all the time, after all. So when he finds himself drifting off in his office, thinking of the way you’d moan and scream and mark up his back if he were to pound you into the mattress, or maybe of how your pretty face would look dripping with his cum as he grips your hair and fucks your face, he doesn’t mind sharing them with you. And the look on your face when he does - oh, baby, it’s so precious.

You must be barely more than a virgin with how absolutely ashamed you act.

And slowly, of course, your wardrobe begins to change. When you find yourself at the mall, you’re no longer looking for conservative sweaters and cardigans that disguise the shape of your body. Maybe you’ve just lost interest in that style, especially with the way you find yourself drawn to the more… vivacious section. Now, you find it empowering to sift through racks of the tightest skirts, of v-neck blouses that give away your cleavage whenever you lean over.

When you show up at work, legs clad in tight stockings and your breasts pushed tight up against your shirt, you feel almost proud when Kuroo sees the way you’re dressed. In fact, when you find your gaze drawn to his, looking into his dark pupils blown wide with arousal, you feel that intense, throbbing heat in your cunt flare up again.

You feel good. You feel happy. You dress this way because you want to.

And when he finally asks you out to dinner, it’s easy - almost second nature - for you to say yes. Why would you ever want to say no when you’ve been so fixated on him for the past few weeks, when your mind has been filled with the dirtiest, unspeakable thoughts, when you’re so undeniably attracted to him?

On that date, you can barely think straight.

You’re just so fucking turned on the entire time, aren’t you? You can’t stop thinking about the way his cock would feel dragging up against your tight, wet, heat, about how his fingers would feel methodically taking you apart, how the flat of his tongue would feel flicking up across your clit.

You don’t care about the food. You barely even notice how much the bill for the dinner comes to. All you can think about is him.

Kuroo finds it almost endearing how tightly you cling onto his side during the taxi ride to your place. He can feel how warm you are, your shallow breaths puffing in and out, the way you tremble when he brings a thumb up to caress your cheek.

His experiment was so fucking worth it. You’re putty in his hands, a little plaything he can mold and shape to his liking.

That night, you are very much to his liking.

You pull him out of the taxi, whispering into his ear how much you’d like to show him around, but he isn’t fooled. You’ve invited him up not because you want to give a tour of your living area, but because you need him, because you don’t really have a choice with the way he’s been conditioning you for the past few weeks.

Barely five minutes have passed before you drag him to your bedroom, stripping off every useless item of clothing off. “Please,” you whimper. “Fuck me. Please. Please. I want it so bad.”

He knows you’re telling the truth, and as he grasps your thighs with his large hands and spreads you until you’re open and dripping, he’s only too happy to oblige.

Sucking gentle kisses along the crook of your neck, he bites at your soft flesh, running his tongue up along your pulse point until you shiver. He reaches down, trailing his hand over your chest and tummy until he arrives at your clit, and rubs slow, feather-light circles that leave you squirming and shaking, bucking into thin air until he grabs your hips and holds them down firmly in place.

He knows you want more. He can tell by the way your puffy clit pulses, swollen and tender, and the way you mewl whenever his fingers brush against your entrance.

“More,” you whisper, eyes wide and pleading. “I need more. Please.”

His cock twitches at the ragged desperation in your voice, and he almost wants to draw it out for a bit longer. You make such a pretty picture - he wants to run his hands through your disheveled hair, all mussed up and soft, wants to hold your face, glowing with sweat and flushed pink, wants to sear how depraved you look into his mind forever.

But who is he to deny you when you’re begging so nicely?

Weeks of pent up frustration have left you so, so sensitive - after all, your short, stubby fingers can’t reach nearly as far as his can, and the angle he’s able to hit every time he curls his fingers in a come-hither there motion isn’t something you could ever replicate. It’s so easy to make you cum when you’re desperate, and he indulges you, making you cream around his fingers as he thrusts them deeper and strokes at your walls.

And when he’s done prepping you, Kuroo finds that fucking into a needy cunt is so much better than just a willing one. Your pussy, slick and dripping wet, almost seems to suck his cock into your hole, and the lewd moan that falls from your lips as he bottoms out sends heat rushing to his core. He goes slow and careful at first - he wants you to enjoy this, after all - but your pussy feels so good, so warm and velvety, that he can’t help but speed up and ram his cock into you until you’re squealing like a bitch in heat. It might feel better without the condom he has on in the way, but that’s okay - he’ll save fucking you raw for another day.

After that night, you only grow more eager. You start doing things you never would’ve even imagined prior to his little interventions - you send him nudes from the work bathroom, slutty pictures that show off the curve of your ass and your tits covered in lace, candid shots of your lips wrapped around your fingers, sucking on them like you would his cock, even pictures of your cunt right after you’ve been touching yourself.

And just days after he’d fucked you for the first time, you find yourself at the pharmacist picking up birth control. You want to feel him cum inside you, to paint your pussy white and stuff you full until his seed is dripping out of you and dirtying the sheets.

Most of all, you want to please him. You want to make him feel good so that he’ll fuck you, offer you some sweet relief from the persistent ache in your cunt that gets particularly intense whenever he’s nearby.

You let him fuck you almost anywhere, anytime. He bends you over the sink in public bathrooms, running his fingers along your folds, or sprawls you out on his lap in his car, his cock deep in your cunt. You don't really mind if other people see the two of you - as long as he's gripping your hips tight, bruising your cervix until your skin blooms black and blue, sticky drool leaking from the corners of your mouth - he could be showing your naked cunt off in the middle of Times Square for all you care.

Kuroo can’t help but beam with pride at the way your demeanor has changed as of late. You used to blush whenever he would make eye contact with you, and now you’re begging him to get you off during rush hour on public transportation.

He likes this new version of you very much.

-

Months go by, and you find that it gets harder to focus at work. Early on, it was easy to ignore the heat curling in your stomach whenever your thoughts drifted to Kuroo, but now the artificial glare of the screen gives you a headache, and the numbers and letters on the spreadsheets all seem to meld and jumble together until you can’t tell which is which.

You don’t really care about your boss’s performance review anymore. The customers can scream all they like. The most pressing concern on your mind, the one that you just can’t stop thinking about, is the insatiable need for Kuroo to fuck you, to lift you up against the wall and bounce you on his cock like a ragdoll.

Why would anything else matter?

To be completely honest, Kuroo hadn’t anticipated this particular side effect, but he supposes it makes sense that the more thoughts he replaces, the less original ones remain. There’s no longer as much of who you were before left, and - oh, Kuroo really shouldn’t be doing this to you, should he? But he finds that he doesn’t really care, doesn’t really mind, because you look so much better in your tight skirts, so much happier being the slut he’s slowly trained you to be.

He did like you for your personality - he really did. It was nice seeing you cute and quiet, but there’s just no room left for who you were anymore.

We’re all shaped and molded by our environment, aren’t we? The people we surround ourselves with, the places we grow up and live our lives in - it just happened that for you, your environment was Kuroo, and he did the work that society probably would have done anyway - albeit a bit differently, a bit more extreme.

Of course, he’s not delusional. He knows he’s responsible for the way you are now, so when you eventually get fired, he takes you in and lets you live with him. This way, you’re safe and warm and taken care of, and in exchange, he gets easy access to your cunt whenever he wants. There’s no more need for midnight calls or texts, because his pretty little fuckdoll is always waiting for him when he comes home.

He doesn’t have a spare room, but that’s not a problem. He lets you sleep on a couch at first, but the nice, comfy cage he orders for you comes in after just a few days. After all, he doesn’t want all his hard work to go to waste, and besides - you’re content with the few amenities your new accommodations offer: food, water, air, and cock.

Kuroo often finds himself admiring your pretty face, an expectant, needy expression plastered on your features and your eyes glazed over, stuck between the dirty metal bars like a dog waiting for a treat from its owner. He can’t help but think that this is how you were always meant to be, that this is the perfect relationship that makes both of you happiest.

Considering the state you’re in, you really don’t know any better, do you?

if you enjoyed this, please reblog or just drop by my inbox to say hi! requests are open

[awesomerextyphoon]

Cozy by the Fire

Summary: You and your winter loves enjoy a nice evening by the fire.

Pairing: Stucky x Plus-Sized Female Reader

Rating: 18+ / Mature

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Kissing, Implied Smut, People Being Assholes

A/N: This is a request from @saiyanprincessswanie​. We’re pulling for you, girl! Dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics​.

Masterlist

“How do I look?” you asked twirling around in a Butterscotch sweater dress with a thick black dress belt. It was your boys’ favorite and you wanted to treat them to something special.

“Amazing!”

“You’re just saying that, Wanda.” Wanda telekinetically placed the last of the food on the table.

Somehow, you were able to convince Wanda to help you bake enough Butter Toffee Chunk, Glazed Lemon Ricotta Cookies, Black and White Spiral, and Peanut Chocolate Chunk Cookies to celebrate the Holidays since no one had the time (no one wants to go to the shed). You even spiked their hot chocolate with a few drops of Asgardian Mead (they love the kick).

“I’m not! You look amazing and those boys are damn lucky! Nat would totally agree.”

“Alright, alright,” you acquiesced, “Thank you so much, Wanda.”

“No problem,” Wanda waved the compliment, “They’re closing in, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks again!”

Wanda barely levitated out of your quarters before you heard their powerful footsteps.

“Ugh, fuck doll, is this for us?” Bucky exclaimed as he eyed the table.

“Of course!” you replied as you pulled him in for a kiss.

“You didn’t have to, sweetheart.” Steve pouted interrupting your passionate kiss with Bucky.

“Well, you said you missed having cookies by the fire during the holidays and I wanted to surprise you.”

“All of this for us, huh?” Steve asked incredulously eyeing the medley of luxurious Honey-Tenderized Boeuf Bourguignon, Creamy Mashed Potatoes, Spicy Honey Fried Chicken, Hearty Lasagne, Texas BBQ Brisket, Baked Ziti, and BBQ Ribs.

“I thought you would be hungry.” you reasoned smirking at their growling stomachs.

“Looks like you were correct.” Bucky conceded eyeing the lasagne.

“So, Wanda?” Steve inquired grinning at you lowering your head in embarrassment.

“Yes, but she used my recipes,” you huffed, “C’mon let’s eat before it gets cold!” you exclaimed skipping (yes, you read that right) towards the food.

“What did we do to get blessed with an angel like her?” Bucky wondered wrapping Steve in a side hug.

“I don’t know, Buck. I don’t know.” Steve cooed into Bucky before kissing him.

  It all started with probably one of the worst jokes by some of your former classmates. Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming.

Natalie, your former college dorm mate, told you that Jacques Becker, your college crush and total babe, was interested in you. Anwen, your best friend, said to get over it, but you couldn’t quit the fantasy.

You put on your best clothes, actually putting makeup only to have him text you saying that he would be a few minutes late. It was okay for the first twenty minutes, you chalked up to bad weather. Then twenty became fifty, eighty, and so on.

After two hours, the bartender passed you a shot of bourbon on the house. Your eyes started to well up with tears.

He stood you up.

To make matters worse, it was pouring outside and you forgot your umbrella. You made it about 10 yds (9.144m) before you tripped on an uneven sidewalk.

A flash of light went off, but you ignored thinking it was a car.

  To your absolute horror, Jacques posted the whole thing as a prank on Instagram. You could barely make eye contact at your place of work.

As if you needed another reason for everyone to hate you. You already felt out of place with everyone looking down at you for your apparent ‘lack of talent’ and ‘slovenly aura’ (?).

Patricia, your ‘hot’ co-worker, smirked at you while sharing the video with the whole floor knowing full well you wouldn’t do anything. Both your supervisor and the head of HR were always on her side and she knew this job was the best you were gonna get in this economy.

You went home in tears that day. Luckily, Anwen and Caterina came over for emotional support.

  It wasn’t until you decided to leave the house for a junk food run to Trader Joe’s did your luck change. You were in the mood for Sweet Plantain Chips and Scandinavian Swimmers and seriously need the pick-me-up. You were three blocks away when you bumped into someone.

Apologizing profusely, you raised your head to find the person was Wanda Maximoff, one of the Avengers. She was also having a shitty day if the puffy red eyes and tear streaks were any indications.

You handed her a tissue and recommended a bakery a few blocks away. You told her to mention your name and they’ll give her some free sweets.

You had worked there a few years back and created half the menu, so it was no big deal.

She thanked you for your kindness and discretion and went on her way.

You felt a little better making someone else smile.

  Unlike most people, you were satisfied with making an Avenger smile, which is why you stopped dead in your tracks while you were in the recommended cafe three months later.

Wanda, the Scarlet Witch, barged into the cafe with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes in tow. She insisted they try the cinnamon rolls.

The crowd parted in semi-reverence; some people took out their phones, someone even bowed (why?). Imani, the barista and an old acquaintance, almost dropped an espresso order at the sight of them.

You couldn’t blame her. They were the two of the most beautiful men on the planet towering over everyone in the bakery.

Wanda was about to leave when she spotted you in the corner booth. You wanted the ground to swallow you up you were so anxious. You didn’t need another reminder of how inadequate you are.

No one will ever desire a fat loser with no talent despite what your friends and sisters say.

So it came as a surprise that the two Adonises waved and strode towards you. Steve asked if you were the one who came up with the Butter Toffee Chocolate Chunk recipe.

You almost cursed yourself for your brain short-circuiting when Linda, the manager, finally got out of the restroom to proudly confirm that you came up with half of the menu. She even offered a tray of some of your creations.

Bucky grinned and said that the whole compound raved at goodies Wanda would bring during missions.

You peeped a thank you for the praise not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself.

Both of the devilishly handsome men chuckled and hoped they would see you again.

You smiled knowing that’ll never happen though you didn’t fail to feel the sorrow carve itself into your heart.

  Your sorrow was short-lived.

Somehow one of them slipped a piece of paper with Steve’s number on it.

You stared at it for what felt like hours thinking that if you blinked it would disappear.

You didn’t tell anyone, not even Anwen or Caterina.

You didn’t know if it was another prank; if it would end up like last time. But maybe, just maybe, they were being sincere.

With a huff of newfound confidence, you said fuck it and dialed the number.

  You were glad you did.

Being with Steve and Bucky has been nothing but a wonderful dream. They were incredibly attentive and loving, always giving you words of encouragement, leaving little gifts around your apartment, and not laughing at your dreams.

Especially after the ‘scandal’.

It seems that the fact that either Captain America or the reformed Winter Soldier wanting anything to do with a ‘fat slob who promotes an unhealthy lifestyle’ is baffling to the masses.

The tabloids and internet were strewn with horrible pictures of you from high school and college. The ‘prank video’ resurfaced to your ever-mounting shame. No matter where you went, you couldn’t escape the jeers, especially at work.

The final straw was when Patricia snatched your lunch and threw it in the trash and declaring that you didn’t need to eat such ‘fattening junk’ since you were already ‘ ‘such a blimp’. The worst part was that no one came to your defense. Some even sneered; whether it was envy or disgust, it still devastating.

You didn’t leave your room for three days.

Nat rushed your sisters and friends to your apartment for an impromptu ‘girls night’. Nat and Tony made sure to have a ‘chat’ with the leaker, and your WW2 hero lovers made sure you felt extra loved when they returned from their mission.

So much so that you didn’t leave their quarters for a week.

You gave as much as you got which was hard, but you tried your best. You made baked goods for when they returned from missions. You comforted Bucky whenever he had a nightmare along with Steve, and you cheered Steve up whenever he felt remorse about the time he’s lost.

  “Fuck, that was amazing, angel.” Bucky sighed patting his satiated tummy.

They devoured the food because of course, your super soldiers would have black holes for stomachs.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“How did your interview go, sweetheart?” Steve inquired masking a burp with his fist.

“Well,” you stood and grabbed a piece of paper, “I got the job!!!” You squealed. You vowed to get a new job after the scandal deciding that you’ve had enough of your toxic workplace. So you decided to go after your dream job, a creative technologist at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Your father had dissuaded you from doing it earlier saying it was a ‘fanciful occupation’.

You wanted to get on your own despite both Tony’s and your lovers’ protests, not wanting the tabloids to have yet another reason to attack you. It took some time, but you got an interview after tacking down a lead through Linda’s friend’s cousin.

And after three months of lying in wait, you got the offer.

“Congratulations, doll!!” Steve resounded as he lifted you and twirled you around their quarter’s living room.

“We’re so proud of you!” Bucky exulted as he tossed you into the air.

“Bucky, please, no more!” you giggled. Tears streaming down your face from all the laughing.

Bucky acquiesced to your cries and set you down on an ottoman. Both super soldiers gave each other a sideways glance and grinned.

“What’s going on?” you asked, a bit put off by their sudden silence.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” Steve requested.

“Okay…”

“Stop laughing! We’re serious!”

“All right, fine!” you chuckled as you closed your eyes wondering what shenanigans they would pull.

You soon felt a weight on your chest and ears as both your Brooklyn boys kissed the juncture between your jaw and neck.

“Okay, open your eyes, angel.”

“Oh...why...why’d you do this?” you gasped at what was before you. Both of them were holding a mirror showing you wearing a Winter Princess Snowflake Pendant and a set of Sparkling Diamond Tassel Earrings.

It was the nicest thing anyone’s ever gotten you.

“We wanted this to be your Christmas present, but we thought it would be best for this occasion,” Bucky explained.

“Don’t worry. We’re--what’s wrong sweetheart?” Steve queried noting the tears welling up in your eyes hoping they weren’t being too forward.

“It’s just...thank you for being so wonderful!!” you peeped, unable to hold in your happiness anymore.

“We just want to take care of you, sweetheart. You’ve been so good to us.” Steve purred into your skin as he made a line of kisses from your cheek to your collarbone between each word.

“You’ve comforted us whenever we had a nightmare, left us affirmation notes, always making us feel loved and wanted. It means the world to us!” Bucky hummed as he leaned in for a soulful kiss.

And they meant it. So many women threw themselves at their feet, undeterred by the polite rejections. It got to the point that Tony had to screen the reporters after an undercover groupie tried to rush them.

You on the other hand actually cared about them, not the titles or the fame. You made them feel seen and they could never repay you.

“Thank you, doll. You’re our angel and there are no words that can describe how much you mean to us.” Steve declared.

  The rest of the evening was filled with your boys recounting tales from their childhoods, both of them taking turns being embarrassed.

Wanda had to rescue Sam a few times from being pummeled by Bucky for the crime of swiping some cookies from his pile even after you chastised him, but you couldn’t stay mad at him for long with those puppy dog eyes.

Both you, Wanda, and Nat pelted Tony for being obnoxiously off-key with his caroling.

All in all, it was a fun night.

  “Goodnight, Bucky, Steve,” you whispered laying between them by the fireplace under a luxuriously soft throw rug.

“Goodnight, angel.”

“I know he took my cookies.”Bucky started.

“Give it a rest, Bucky!” you hissed softly not wanting to have today be upended by Bucky’s pouting.

“Had to have been at least a dozen-”

“We made enough cookies to satisfy 50 people!”

“I’ll get him tomorrow.”

“No, you won’t. Because if you do, I’ll tell Tony what happened to his second favorite watch.”

“...Fine.”

“Good.” you ended smiling to yourself for never feeling so complete as this moment.

[ddarker-dreams]

Debt Collection. Yan Childe x Reader [SMUT]

Tags: Mild dubcon ?, hate fucking, power bottoming, creampie, dirty talk, AFAB reader and degradation.  Word count: 1.6k. Note: this could be considered apart of contractual obligations universe or something on the side. i’m not sure where it’d officially line up in the stories tl, i just wanted to write some sin .

This is the only plausible option left.

That’s what you told yourself when you walked into his office, what you told you told yourself when removing your clothes and when you climbed into his lap. He called it special treatment. Whispering huskily into your ear that you should be grateful he likes you so much, that anyone else would be dead in your position. The Fatui are not known for their leniency with debts. People go missing, their neighbors too frightened to question what might’ve happened to them.

Childe seems happy enough to remind you of this like it might make you feel better somehow. It doesn’t. All you want is for the stress on your business to be alleviated, for things to go back to how they used to be before him, even if it is wishful thinking.

Whatever his feelings are for you, you don’t care in the slightest. You’re doing this to get it over with.

“Mm, just like that,” Childe hisses out through clenched teeth, fingernails digging harshly into either side of your waist. “Take all of me in.”

Everything is so warm. His fevered touches, your face, every inch of your bare body. You do as he tells you, biting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Sinking down onto his dick, you despise the lascivious noises it makes from how terribly wet he’s made you. Childe’s gaze never falters from your own, watching unblinkingly as you take in every inch of his throbbing length. His grip on you tightens, steadying your trembling body, harsh pants leaving both of you.

You’re grateful for his lack of comments, already humiliated enough as is. The silence doesn’t last when he fills you completely, your walls slowly adjusting to his length. Even with the proper preparation, his considerable size causes mild pain. Each deep breath you take does little to steady your nerves. The weight of Childe’s stare is impossible to ignore.

Why is he looking at you like this? Why can’t he just silently get off and let it be over with? The passion burning in his ocean blue eyes is unmistakable, the waves of it threatening to drown you.

“Good girl,” he exhales, affectionately running a hand through your tousled hair. You let him do as he pleases. The odd intimacy behind what’s meant to be a tumble in the dark isn’t lost on you. “Now, you remember what I wanted, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, I do.” You confirm breathlessly, more blood rushing to your face upon remembering his vulgar instructions. Childe cups your face in his hands and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth when he moves away. This is the first time he’s kissed you, you realize, lips tingling. He does it with such ease, as if the two of you were lovers. The thought alone is enough to make bile rise in your throat.

“I’m afraid my memory is failing me. Be a dear and remind me of what you’re going to do.”

Of course, he’d make this as difficult as he can for you, you shouldn’t have expected anything different. The lascivious words discussed during your agreement reverberate in your head, and you push past your hesitations to repeat them. “I’m going… going to fuck myself on you.”

You feel his cock twitch excitedly inside you and shiver. He urges you on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And?”

“And… I’ll make you cum inside of me.”

“Get to it then.” Childe leans back into his chair, pleased so far with your submission. You take a deep breath, raising your hips up, wincing at how he stretches out your walls. When nothing but the tip of his dick remains inside you, you slowly sink onto him again, earning a low noise of approval. He really isn’t going to help you, is he? While full of him, you gyrate your hips, getting yourself more accustomed to his size. Childe’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, looking down at you through thick eyelashes.

“I didn’t expect for you to take your time like this,” he chuckles breathlessly, voice guttural and husky. “Not that I’m, ngh, complaining, I could watch this all day.”

You furrow your eyebrows, indignant at his comments. That’s the last thing you wanted...! You wanted to get this over with, to push past the embarrassment he’s inflicted on you. Spurred on by his comments, you raise and lower your hips onto his cock faster, the sensation of being stretched less painful than before. Childe lets out a breathy moan at your increased pace. No longer willing to hold himself back, he thrusts his hips up, throwing his head back at how good you feel around him. You can already tell the area he’s gripping will leave bruises. Hopefully, they can be covered up so questions don’t arise.

“Do you… do you know how much I think about you?” Childe breathes out, each word more strained than the last. The sound of skin on skin fills his office, a far cry from the normal business that goes on in here. Not that he cares in the slightest. You don’t want to know the answer, honestly, but he gives it to you regardless.

“Mm, I’ve thought about it even when we talk,” Childe confesses, head throwing back as he bucks himself up to meet your hips. “What you’d feel like… all the cute little noises you’d make when I made you pleasure yourself on my dick.”

Childe’s words strike a chord deep within you, your face getting even redder than before. You feel yourself getting closer to a release and feel frustrated by your lack of self-restraint. Childe’s chest rumbles with a low moan at how your walls tighten around him. He’s half wanting to fuck you against his desk, losing any shreds of patience that he’s somehow managed to hold on to. But knowing that you’re working oh so hard to make him cum is too tantalizing to pass up. He sees your reluctance fade into desire, no longer able to deny carnal pleasure. You’re enjoying this as much as he is but just don’t want to admit it.

He leans forward, wrapping his soft lips around your nipple and biting it gently, laughing breathlessly at the noise you let out. Childe’s hand that was on your hip goes to your chest, greedily playing with the soft mounds of flesh. He adores how you taste, how lovely and exposed you are before him now. All of the efforts that went into procuring you earned him such a ravishing sight.

Spurred on by his touches, you can no longer hold yourself back. Your movements get sloppier as you chase your own release, chest bouncing as you hold onto him for balance. Childe lets out a content noise at this. His strength is commendable, your hazy mind notices, as now he’s the one lifting you up and bringing you back down onto his cock. Strength all but gone, you lean forward, hoping to muffle your moans against his glistening neck. Your walls clench around him, a high pitch noise leaving your lips when you cum.

Childe wants nothing more than for you to remember this. For you to remember him. “That’s... right, [First]. Don’t ever forget that I’m the one who made you feel this good.”

You can barely register his words, mind far too foggy to think of anything. Curses start to leave his lips, from a foreign tongue which you assume to be his native language. His cock thrusts upwards inside you as Childe desperately seeks out his own release. Your energy is all but gone, leading you to feel silently grateful that he’s capable of getting himself off inside you without much help. A surprised yelp leaves your lips as he tugs your hair back, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“I want you to see this,” Childe manages to get out through gritted teeth. A throaty groan leaves him, hips stuttering. “Watch me as I cum inside you.” 

Childe releases himself inside you, thrusting up as far as he can before stilling himself. You feel his hot seed fill you up, Childe intent on dumping all of himself as far inside you as he can. He pulls you further down onto him, head thrown back and panting as your walls milk his throbbing cock. You wince at the foreign feeling, the implications of him cumming inside you nerve-wracking. Finally, he lifts his head, a slight flush on his own face. 

The room is silent, save for your panting. He keeps one hand on your already bruised hip and moves the other to cup your face. Childe’s eyes soften as you try your best to regain yourself. 

It feels hot, sticky, and humiliating. You look around, looking anywhere that isn’t at Childe. He lets out an airy laugh at your obvious embarrassment, much to your displeasure, and you shoot him a hopefully threatening look. It has the opposite effect as intended. Childe coos at the endearing sight, tracing his fingers over your body.

“That’s... all you wanted, right? Can I go now?” 

Childe shakes his head and you frown. “Mm... not yet, no. I’d say this only covers a portion of the debt, sweetheart.” 

You knit your eyebrows together, indignation flaring, and go to slap him against your better judgment. Childe snickers, catching your wrist with ease and places unexpectedly soft kisses against your knuckles.

“Relax, relax, I was kidding,” Childe winks and you roll your eyes. “Just know this won’t be the last time I fuck you.” 

“You’re... utterly shameless.” 

“Maybe I am, but what can I say? Now that I’ve gotten a taste of you, I might just be addicted.” 

[achillieus]

we’re fools (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, a lot of sexual references, but also a lot of fluff, bucky and reader are in love, also bucky gets cheesy and he hates it

(other parts)  (masterlist)

part 3/3:

Bucky thinks he fell in love on a Tuesday.

“This year, I’m gonna ask Peggy Carter out.” It’s the first day of their third semester and Steve is putting his black baseball cap in his perfect hair, checking his reflection on his phone screen. One of the freshman girls winks at him and he shyly half smiles.

Usually, Bucky would tease him about it, but now he’s attention is wholly on something else. Someone else.

A girl at the other end of the hall, holding a paper juice box, wearing a gaudy denim dress that stops right before her knees.

He’s certain he hasn’t seen her before and judging by the adrift look on her face he deduces she’s in her first year. Is she pretty? He can’t decide. She’s definitely something. And if he stares at her a bit longer than socially acceptable, well let’s say, it’s completely unintended.

“Buck, did you hear what I said?” Steve says at one point and Bucky isn’t sure for how long he has been lost in her figure.

“Yeah sure.” The girl starts walking at their direction -it must be your lucky day, Bucky-, clutching the golden heart jewel around her neck. She’s looking at the doors, she’s looking at the big campus map they have on the wall. She’s looking everywhere but at him and it’s almost offensive considering the amount of time he spent looking at her.

“I’m sorry,” And then she’s there standing a few steps behind Steve. Almost hidden behind his colossal demeanor. “I can’t seem to find the Admission Office.”

A small nervous laugh escapes her lips and Bucky watches the little wrinkles around her eyes, the subtle blush on her cheeks. She doesn’t look pretty. No. She looks consuming.

“Admission office is on the left, doll”. He replies a little too fast. He had to beat Steve. He had to talk to her.

She smiles at him and somehow, along that smile, Bucky thinks he fell in love. With you.

-

(bucky barnes has been in love with you for 563 days)

-

“Did you just kiss me?”

His voice is barely a whisper and his vision is blurry and it’s weird because suddenly he realizes how scared he’s of you. Of the power you have on him. An alarming craving. Every addiction he can’t control combined. Bucky isn’t afraid of many things, not exactly. But he’s afraid that you’ll take his heart and break it, if you want to. And he’s more afraid that he’ll just allow you to. He wonders, for the split of a second, if you have any idea how everything changed when your lips met his. How something inside of him shifted.

“I’m sorry,” You finally answer and he needs a moment to compose himself, “I’m so sorry I just thought-”

“Shut up, I’d died if you hadn’t kissed me.”

“What?”

It’s innocent and terribly oblivious, the way you ask him that and he half smiles, almost touches your palm before his mind stops racing. Ignores the alcohol in his body. Reminds him that he’s Bucky Barnes, that he’s clever and brilliant and a little bit narcissistic and that he doesn’t do love.  Not anymore. And that people adore him for that. And that he needs to uphold it. At least try to.

“I’m not repeating that soppy thing I said,” He drawls and smirks, his teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light of the hall. He has his mask back on. He’s playing his part again. And then he takes a quick step, opens his door and turns around, swift motions and hard grips and suddenly your spine hits the walls of his room. “But you can repeat that sexy thing you did with your tongue.”

Bucky isn’t stupid. He knows he’d perish and wither in a blast if you asked him to, yet he would never admit that. At least not so fast. And specially not to you. He has built his persona so carefully, wore it like an armor, it has become a second skin.

His chapped lips scratch soft against your neck, his hands play with the end of your dress and you observe the way his orbs are colored darker now. He knows what he’s doing. It’s a show he’s practiced. His touch is sharp, like a razor, cuts through your epidermis, comes close to your veins and the muscles of your heart.

And you’re ready to close your eyes, savor every minute of it, offer yourself like an altar and let him wipe the rationality out of you, but the moment his fingers find the wet silk between your legs there’s pain and your throat dries out instantly.

“Bucky, wait.”

“What’s wrong doll?”

“Can we stop?”

There’s the cruel split of a moment where the anxiety inside of you flares up dangerously and you fill like on the edge of a cliff, like falling and it’s horrible. And then you see his body relax, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing.

“Thank God you asked.”

“Barnes,” you hit him with your elbow, “You’re doing wonders for my self esteem right now!”

“You’re an idiot,” he replies with a grimace, “It’s just that I’m drunk and I prefer if I’m not drunk when we have sex. I want to remember the whole thing.”

A strange sensation tingles somewhere between your ribs and your stomach, something so pure and new, and it raises goosebumps all over you. And you smile at him.

And somehow along that smile, Bucky’s mask starts to fall.

/

Bucky Barnes, you learnt within your first month in college, is a year older than you, a proud boy that always asks the right questions and always gives the right answers, with charms and wits of a living god.

Bucky Barnes, you learnt the night you kissed him in the narrow aisle, may have a sharp tongue but he also has the sweetest lips, soft and liqueur like.

Bucky Barnes, you learn some days later, doesn’t want many people to know about you two, and sits three tables away during lunch.

/

“Are you embarrassed of me?”

Your mind is racing with dozens of hurtful possibilities, some more or less, and Bucky looks at you, eyes widen and surprised.

“Why would I be embarrassed of you?”

“I don’t know,” you take the tea cup in your hands, drink and stay silent for a while, observe the way he’s fidgeting with his fingers, “Why else would you avoid me whenever there’s someone else but Sam around?”

It takes some time before he walks closer, sits next to you by his bedframe and touches your hand, your skin freezing under his.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

Your heart almost stops, because Bucky is never scared, and his answer feels strangely heavy and bitter from his lips when he says, “I just don’t want anyone to ruin this.”

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even smirk like he usually does, just stares at you with narrow eyes and a quick breath.

“Bucky, I hate it to break it to you,” you say, a glint of amusement in your voice, “But I don’t think others care that much about us.”

You cup his face in your hands, guide him backwards, his back hitting the pillow and it’s the first time he has no choice but to comply.

“And even if they do,” you breath in, wet your lips and tease the corner of his mouth with your finger, “It’s not our problem.”

Bucky grabs the back of your neck, shifts even closer to you, his heart not missing a beat. And when you kiss him, he smiles. And somehow along that smile, Bucky becomes more of himself.

/

It goes like this;

People read it in his eyes. How his gaze never leaves you even while you’re writing a test and he needs to concentrate, how he looks mesmerized when you braid your hair while scanning the textbook in front of you. How he could find you even in the middle of the biggest crowd.

People see it in your reactions. How your fingers always wrap around his wrist, almost instinctively, before he leaves, and you kiss him one time on the lips, and then one more on the cheek. How your voice changes as soon as he enters the room. How you’d know he’s here even without looking.

You really have to try to be oblivious to love.

/

(text messages between classes)

(10:26 AM) bucky: hey does taylor swift have to be playing in the background when we have sex

(10:27 AM) you: it’s not even noon bucky what the hell

(10:27 AM) bucky: i went through your spotify and APPARENTLY you have a  “🍆🍆🍆” playlist

(10:27 AM) bucky: and it’s just taylor swift and hozier???

(10:27 AM) bucky: who the hell wants to have sex with a taylor swift song playing

(10:28 AM) you: I’m gonna kill you

(10:28 AM) bucky: nah <3

/

It’s surprisingly easy, dating Bucky Barnes, and by the end of the first month, you feel at home, at ease.  He talks a lot, way more than you expected him to, he shares his favorites, the way he always underlines quotes he likes in the books he’s reading or how he never eats anything that has soy in it. He shows you everything about him, not just who he is, but who he’s ever been. And it’s beautiful.

And you observe how he breathes easier now, smiles more. He doesn’t keep his guard up, doesn’t flinch when nobody’s looking at him.

/

He thinks it’s weird.

He thinks it’s weird, because kissing has always been an act of foreplay to him and he never paid much attention, but now, with you, he could spend his whole life kissing you.

But when you start pulling at the buttons of his black expensive shirt, well, it’s not like he’s complaining. He presses his body against yours, his hands almost shaking, his fingers burying in your hair, slowly tugging.

“Bucky,” You breath in his neck, “I may be bad at this.”

“What?” He whispers as he leaves wet trails all the way to your chest.

“I haven’t done this before, so I may be bad at it.”

He stares right at your lips, notices your sweet cherry scent mixing with the sharp notes of his aftershave, touches the spot under your eyes and smiles.

“Guess we’ll have to do it over and over again then.” He’s half laughing, half kissing your shoulder and you can feel your cheeks flush and your entire being tighten.

And then his cold fingertips draw circles on your inner thighs and you close your eyes, and Bucky forgets how to breath.

/

“I probably sound like a fool but, I’m in love with you.”

You didn’t plan on saying it that early, but he’s here, warm and glistening and in your arms and you can’t go another minute without hearing the words out loud.

“And I probably sound competitive but, I’ve been in love with you since God knows when.”

/

(AH IT’S FINISHED BUT YAY THEY’RE IN LOVE)

tagging: @tonystankschild @osterfieldshollandgirl​ @roguesthetic @buckyjms​ @ohladymacbeth​

[libraryofloveletters]

A June Wedding

Evan Buckley x Reader 

Warnings: alcohol and the consumption of 

Category: Fluff 

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: idk what this is, I opened the doc and just started typing, so yeah // the flashbacks are set two years ago, when y/n meets Buck. The end is back to the present

---- 

From B: I was thinking about you.

From B: I miss you. 

The phone sat in your hand, you stared down at the message on the screen. It had been months, maybe longer since you met him-  2 years to be precise. 

The two of you had a weird friendship to say the least. One of those “will they, won’t they?” kind of things. Everyone seemed to notice how the two of you were in love except the two of you. 

Your story starts in a hole in the wall coffee shop two years ago, when Buck comes in after his first shift at the station. 

*Two Years Before* 

Tired and hungry was a typical look you saw among the folks who came to your shop. It was downtown LA and there were a lot of businesses around including station 118. 

Among your typical morning crowd, there were people in suits and ties, the few hippies/skater crowd and your favourite, the fire-fighters. 

They were your favourite not because they always had larger orders but they usually left big tips and were super sweet. 

It was around 9 in the evening when the bell on the door chimed as it was pushed open. You were closing up for the day but the ‘come in, we’re open’ sign still hung on the window that was ideally supposed to be taken down an hour ago. 

Pulling a tray of cookies from the oven, you were startled by the door considering that you thought you locked the door. Peering from the doorway of the kitchen, there was a man by the counter, staring up at the menu board. 

“Hi,” you smile, hesitantly stepping towards the counter from the kitchen. He glances down at you and smiles, mumbling a hello. 

“Uh, we’re actually closed right now.” you inform him. 

His brows furrow, glancing over his shoulder at the window. “But the sign-” “I forget to take it down.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ll- okay, I'm gonna go.” he looked.. disappointed. He pulls a phone out his pocket and sighs. You take that moment to study him. A grey sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, there’s a hat sitting backwards on his head and a duffle bag tossed over his shoulder. As he turns to leave, you notice the 4 letters written on his hat in bright red - LAFD. 

“Hey!” you call out, “You’re a firefighter ?” 

The blonde smiles and nods, “yeah, I started today actually. The guys at the station were talking about the coffee shop down the street. I didn’t get a chance to come during the day so I thought I'd come now- but I can come back another time, you’re closed”

Waving off his statement, you pick up a cup from the counter. “Nonsense, I'd never turn away one of the city’s finest.” you smile, he chuckles. “The city’s finest is more of a cop thing.” he tells you. 

“Is that so ?” asking, you begin looking through the fridge to see if there was any milk, he hums. 

“I think you’re pretty fine yourself” you mumble, standing straight when you realize what you’ve said. Your back was to him, a blush burning up your face. 

What you didn’t know was that Buck was blushing too, a pretty person like you calling him fine was surely going to make him blush and that it did. 

Clearing your throat, you turn to face him again. He was looking anywhere but at you for the moment. 

“What can I get you ?” 

“What do you have right now ?” 

“Just about everything, except for baked goods. I usually put those in the oven in the morning but I do have a tray of cookies if you’re interested.” 

“That sounds good,” he smiles at you. “I’ll take a cookie and uh-” glancing up at the menu, “whatever is your favourite drink” 

Humming, you turn and head to the kitchen to get two cookies for him and then begin mixing some coffee and creamer in a cup, along with ice and some caramel sauce. You ended up making two, one for him and one for you. 

The man was sitting at one of the stools by the window. He was watching the cars drive past. “Here,” you slide the plate over to him and set the cup beside it. 

He smiles, “thank you. How much do I owe you ?” he asks, reaching for what you assumed was his wallet. “Oh, don't worry about it. The register is locked and it’s your first time here, I wouldn’t have charged you anyways” 

“You don’t charge first time customers ?” 

“Only the firefighters, y’all hold a special place in my heart” you laugh, he smiles once more. 

“Are you in a hurry to leave? I can take it with me if you are.” 

“No, you're alright. The cookies are warm, I just took them out when you got here.” you sit beside him, taking a sip of your drink. He also takes a sip of his, you watch as his face twists and he smacks his tongue to try and figure out what it is. 

“I call it the y/n special” filling him in, his brows furrow. “It’s basically just caramel ice coffee” a small laugh passes your lips as you take another sip.

“I’m y/n by the way.” “I’m Buck” he smiles.

--

From that day, Buck was a regular in your shop. You made him a regular coffee before his shifts, 2 cream and 3 sugars - you've come to realize he had a bit of a sweet tooth.  After work, he’d stop by for an iced coffee and a cookie. You’d always keep some in the back for him. 

This became a routine, you asked him for his number so he could let you know when he was on his way to work that way you’d have his coffee ready if he was running late. 

Most mornings you’d just get an ‘coming’ or a little fire truck emoji letting you know he’s on his way to work. 

Over the next year and a half, the two of you became close. All the guys that came in from the station always teased you about your “boyfriend Buck” although he wasn’t your boyfriend. 

The two of you were close, you hung out all the time - when Buck had days off, he’d still stop by the shop for coffee or just to see you even though he lived in the opposite direction. He would also pick you up after work when you could walk home because you lived down the street. 

You often stopped by the station when you knew they were on a 24 hour shift. Buck would text you hourly with whatever he was thinking about, especially during the nights when most of his team was asleep and he couldn’t. During those 24 hour shifts, the last few hours kicked their asses, everyone was tired and too lazy to move to do anything about it- those were the days that you headed into the shop early to get some stuff together to take over for them. 

Over time, the affection between the two of you became clear to everyone but the two of you. 

You only really noticed you liked him after his unfortunate run in with the fire truck and his promotion which you decide to celebrate with him. 

There you were, a bottle of champagne in one hand and a bag of Thai takeout in the other - the perfect thing to celebrate his new- temporary as he kept reminding you- position. 

He had invited you over to watch a movie but life was short as was recently reiterated after Buck’s “getting stuck under municipal equipment” phase as the two of you joke. 

“Hey!” he smiles at you when he opens the door, immediately noticing the bottle of champagne in your hand. 

“The nice stuff,” he hummed, stepping aside so you could come in. You set the bag on the counter with the bottle before venturing further into the kitchen to find glasses. 

“What are we celebrating ?” he watches as you tumble through the cupboards. 

“Y/n?” “What ?” 

“What are we celebrating ?” he asks once more. 

“Do you not own any champagne glasses ? All I can find are solo cups and those ugly ass mugs you have.” sighing, you grab the solo cups knowing his answer already. 

“Y/n/n, I'm a 20-something year old guy living by himself-” “What makes you think I have such things?” finishing off the sentence for him which makes him laugh. 

Setting the cups down on the counter, you push the bottle over to him. “Would you be so kind as to do the honours?” you hop onto the counter. Buck peels the casing from around the top and then shakes the bottle. 

Your brows furrow, “that’s going to make a mess-” before you finish your sentence, the bottle pops. 

The cork ends up somewhere in the apartment whilst the very expensive champagne is sprayed everywhere. Buck just so innocently titled the bottle your way, soaking you in the liquid. 

Laughing, you pull the bottle away from him. He's standing in front of you when you grab his chin, pulling him towards you. Your left hand is cradling his jaw and leaning his head back to pour some of the champagne in his mouth. You over poured and split it on his shirt. 

The two of you were a laughing, sticky mess and the bottle was already half way empty. He held the cups out for you, letting you pour some into each cup before handing you one. 

“Okay, now will you tell me what prompted the champagne showers ?” he smiles, leaning against the counter next to you. 

“Well, life is short. You’re a fire Marshall now so, I’m here to celebrate.” 

Buck smiles at you, he wasn’t the biggest fan of his new job to be honest. Sure he liked it, but he’d do anything to be back out in the field. 

Your arm stretched out, “So to you Mr. Evan Buckley, wait should I say Fire Marshall Buckley ? Anyways congratulations my love, you deserve the job but if the power goes to your head, I'm putting you in your place.” laughing, you bump your cup to his. 

“To a speedy recovery and hoping for your return to the field soon because you’re driving everyone mad. Cheers!” 

Both taking a sip before Buck hops up onto the counter beside you. He shifted slightly, making a gap between the two of you and pulling the bag of takeout to the spot. Dinner was had on the counter, eating straight out of the containers.

“Bobby would be so upset if he saw us right now.” Buck mumbles, his mouth full. 

“Mhm but he’s not here. He doesn’t have to know.” 

A few moments later, his phone began ringing. He pulls it out and his eyes widen. There’s a confused look on your face, waiting for him to give you some context or tell you who’s calling. Finally he shows you his phone. 

Bobby is calling. 

“You summoned him!” Buck shouted. You resisted the urge to laugh. 

“Answer the phone!” 

You watch as Buck answers the phone, holding back his laughter at the conversation moments ago. He looked happy, you loved seeing him like that. The way his eyes glimmered when he smiled that million dollar smile of his, how his curls showed when his hair was wet or if he hadn’t cut his hair in a while. 

It was the little things that made you fall in love with him. 

He was still on the phone when you decided you’d find something to change into. 

He watched as you made your way to the bathroom, coming back out shirtless with a towel in your hand, drying off. He noticed the way you took a step every two steps like he does. He could hear you humming from upstairs, the way you went up in pitch when you saw something you liked or how you’d stop in-between to start whistling. He smiles to himself as he ends the call. 

He too had fallen love with you somewhere along the line. 

----

You watched as the little bubbles popped up on the screen on and off for the next few minutes. 

Today was your wedding day. 

You hadn’t spoken to him all day, things had been hectic. You promised to see him before you got married but truthfully, you had been so consumed with planning and making sure everything was ready that you didn’t get a chance to. 

Your friend comes in, sticking their head in and smiling at you. “You ready ?” they ask, you hum before taking one more look at the phone. 

“As ready as I'll ever be.” 

It was a hot summer day in June, you and your fiancé had decided on an outdoor wedding considering you had always wanted a June wedding. 

Standing at the end of the aisle, each side of the yard was filled with people you loved and cared about but your love was smiling at you on the verge of tears at the altar. 

Resisting the urge to laugh at him, you smile as the music begins playing - your cue to make your way down the aisle. Making it to the end without tripping, you smile at him. 

“Hey,” you smile, reaching for his hand.

“You look beautiful” he smiles, he leans forward to give you a kiss when a hand against his chest stops him. 

Bobby gives him a disapproving look, “I’ll be fast but you gotta wait to the end to kiss them, Buck.” The statement earned him a laugh from the crowd. 

The heat was getting to everyone including the two of you so Bobby skipped over the unnecessary parts, letting the two of you say your vows. 

You started, your hand giving his a squeeze. “The day you walked into the shop, I thought ‘damn, I'm gonna die. Why do I always forget to lock the door?’ but little did I know, it was going to be the love of my life walking in. From the moment we sat down and started talking was the moment I knew you were the one- you made me smile, laugh, gave me butterflies but you also made me feel safe, like I could tell you anything and you’d always be there for me. I watched you walk out with the promise of coming back in the morning and I knew then, we were gonna have a June wedding.” you laughed. 

“You taught me what love was, how to be happy, to never give up no matter what life throws my way because for the last 2 years, that’s what I've watched you do and I'm so incredibly proud to be marrying you. There’s no one else for me. It’ll always be you.” you smile, blinking back the tears. 

“How am I supposed to compete with that ?” he hums, giving you a grin. 

“Everything about you is.. perfectly imperfect, in every single sense of the term. You strive for perfection, but you come up with a slightly different version every time and I love that about you- like when you run out of breath while singing you start whistling so you don’t lose the melody, it’s the little things that make me love you. You hold the stars and the moon, you’re my whole world y/n, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You make me a better man and I could never thank you enough for that.” Both of you are about to cry, looking at each other with the most love and adoration in your eyes. 

Bobby cuts to the end, both of you now impatient and waiting for him to announce that you were officially a couple and the moment he does, Buck pulls you towards him, kissing you like it was the last time he was ever going to. 

The sound of clapping and cheering filled your ears, making you both smile as your made you way back down the aisle officially as the Buckleys. 

---- 

taglist: @advicefromnixxxx @dralexreid @keenmarvellover @beth-winchester21 @fernandaweasley2 @yikesyikesyikes95 @hotchsdarling @duhbar1975 @hailsstormthings @averyhotchner @captainxholmes @venusrosepetal @luke-alvez @looney-literature @caitsymichelle13​ @artemishunter18 @multibuckley 

[mxchellesworld]

swim

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings; smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, degradation, light choking, creampies, slight thigh riding

Synopsis; during a night out with your friends you spot a tall man in a dark suit with an even darker look in his eyes

a/n; this is literally just smut with very little plot lmaoo uhh i’ve been struggling in my smut writing/writing in general so here’s this, hope its not completely trash and you enjoy!

fic inspired by swim by chase atlantic, bc god knows i can't write anything original sdhfdh

***

It was 10 o’clock when your girlfriends rounded you up for a night out, hopefully full of sweet drinks and good company. By 11:30 you were happily buzzed and the feelings of warm bodies around you brought a heat to your lower stomach. Maybe tonight you’d go home with someone, wake up the next morning with that delicious sense of soreness between your legs. The only task at hand was finding a companion.

Once the current song ended you walked over to the bar grabbing a water and taking a seat next to your friends.

“How are the prospects lookin tonight y/n/n?” Jessica, the short brunette you’d known for years asked. Being around her had rubbed some of her boldness onto you. Hopefully that could make an appearance tonight.

“No luck so far,” you sighed “but my eyes are wide open.” You brought the straw to your lips, gulping down the cool water as you looked around the dimly lit room.

“Woah check out suit and tie over there. He’s been checking you out for a while,” chimed Erika. While she has happily taken, that didn’t stop her from going out with you guys and pushing you into random laps.

You looked up to see the darkest pair of brown eyes on yours. Maybe it was the lighting but here was something in them. Lust perhaps? His eyes travelled down your frame as you stood up. The tight lilac dress you had on hugging each of your curves perfectly.

"I'm gonna get some air, let me know if you guys wanna head out," you said never letting your eyes drift away from the handsome stranger a few feet away.

Once outside you let your back hit the brick wall. The music from the building could be felt vibrating through the cracks. You looked up seeing the stars barley visible through the city lights.

"Contrary to popular belief you can never see millions of stars, they simply aren't close and bright enough. On a really exceptional night, with no moon and far from any source of lights, a person with very good eyesight may be able to see 2000-2500 stars at any one time."

You turned to see the same man from inside. He was gorgeous, a light stubble grazing his cheeks, long hair falling past his ears. He was a lot taller than you had thought probably taller than 6'0 but all that made you think about was him towering over you.

"Did you make that up off the top of your head? Or do you approach all your conquests with astronomy facts?"

"That depends do you usually let strange men corner you behind bars or am I just special?" he said walking closer to where you stood.

"Touche Mr."

"Doctor actually."

There was a brief pause where you both let out a giggle. The dark eyes from before seemed lighter and you cold almost make out a blush on his cheeks. The lack of alcohol on his breath told you it was from the conversation, though there was nothing to be flushed about yet.

“But seriously a pretty girl walking out to a back alley late at night is just a recipe for disaster,” he finished scanning both ends.

“Well do you plan on hurting me doctor?" you said coyly. You did you best to flutter your lashes looking up at him.

"Is that what you want?" he said letting one of his hands tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. That same hand ended up resting loosely around you neck making you gulp.

"Yes," you breathed out, "please doctor."

He wasted no time in crashing his lips to yours. You moaned into his mouth as he slid his thigh in between your own. His unoccupied hand went down to your hip, slowly guiding the pace of your frantic rutting.

Your lips parted as your head tilted back onto the brick wall. A symphony of whimpers leaving your mouth.

"Look how desperate you are for me. I haven't even done anything and you're already such a mess," he said leaving wet kisses, cooling on your scorching neck.

"Oh fuck doctor," you said clinging onto his arms, "need y'to fuck."

The power he had over you turned your brain to mush. It was sad how quickly he had you melted in the palm of hand without even doing much but kissing. At this point you didn't even care. The only thought swimming in your head was having him inside you.

A pout formed on your lips as his hands dropped from your frame. However it was quickly wiped away as you heard the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling.

"Is this what you needed baby? You need my cock to stretch you out?" he said pulling your hips closer to his.

You looked up at him for permission before you reached forward to pump your hand along his shaft. He lifted your right leg, hooking it over his arm as he pulled the thin material separating the both of you to the side.

Guiding his length to your glistening folds was a sight you'd want engraved in your brain forever. The first intrusion of his fat tip in your tight hole had you mewling a mix of curses and his title.

All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life as his thrusts gained speed. The sound of your skin slapping luckily wouldn't have been heard through the door with the loud music playing inside. But anyone who walked by the alley or decided it was time for a breath of air would surly be in for a show.

"Fuck you're such a good little whore for me," he said gruffly against the skin of your shoulder, "letting me fuck you out here where anyone could see."

Your pussy clenched at his words and your moans amplified as he continued to pound into you. The curve of his cock hitting the spot inside of you that had you seeing all the stars in the sky contrary to what he said before.

"More doctor! Please wanna cum," you whined.

He made a noise of disapproval before pushing you back farther into the wall. At this point you and the red bricks were one. You were sure to have crescent marks on how hard he was holding up your thigh.

"Greedy little whore aren't you," he gritted out, "You take whatever I wanna give you."

"Please I need it! Need t'cum please please please," you rushed out bucking your hips to meet each one of his thrusts.

His hold on your hip got tighter as he started drilling into you. You could feel his heavy breathes on your shoulder and the way his cock was throbbing inside you ready to fill you up.

Your mind was dizzy. It felt like you were in a bubble of him, the scent of his cologne trapped in your senses. Your nerves were on fire, any pressure on your neglected bud would be sure to set you off.

It was as if the gods had answered your prayers when he spoke, "I can feel you clenching around me baby. Go ahead and touch yourself for me," he rasped out.

Reaching between yourself you felt the slippery mess where you both connected and started rubbing at your stiff clit. Your fingers sent lighting strikes through your body, breaking the damn that was building in your lower tummy.

"Gonna cum! I'm oh god cumming doctor," you all but yelled out. If people walking around the corner were unaware of the spectacle they sure would be now.

"That's it.. such a good girl."

Your arms around his neck let up as you pulled him in for a sloppy kiss. His lips swallowing the moans you let out as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

"Where do you want-," he tried to speak out but you cut him off.

"Inside," you begged, "Need to feel you cum inside." His thrusts turned frantic as you spoke against his lips. Pleading for hum to fill you to the brim with his seed.

You sighed as you finally felt the warm liquid coat your walls, his thrusts continuing to pump into you.

He pulled out stepping back to watch the creamy mess spill down your center before be swiped it away with his fingers, bringing them up to your awaiting mouth.

Happily you took his fingers in your mouth, moaning around them at the salty taste of your mixed release. You looked up at him keeping your gaze on the sliver of brown around his dilated pupils.

_

Walking back into the bar Jessica and Erika's eyes nearly popped out of their heads as they took in the limp in your walk and your disheveled hair.

"You whore!," Erika screamed out greeting you with pats on the shoulder.

"Shut up," you said looking down feeling the heat rising to your cheeks.

Jessica giggled handing you her compact mirror, "Yeah I bet we're not the only ones who called her that," she finished with a raise of her brow.

Looking back up across the bar you saw the same dark eyes from before staring at you with a smug smile, proud how much of mess he left you in. If the little business card tucked in your bra told you anything, it was that the stunt from outside would be far from the last.

[thatblackboianarchist]

Partial Q-Force Review

Still watching the show (on S1E9), but spoiler warning for the entire first season. I did my job and warned you, so moving on.

--------

It’s very common in traditional social justice circles or conventional social justice circles for the goal to be assimilation into the wider, problematic culture. For example, during the Civil Rights Movement, there was a huge push for Black people to be allowed into all corners of white society and granted the same opportunity to succeed in that society, versus understanding that the problem is white society itself, which needs to be dismantled and replaced with an explicitly multiracial and then post-racial society. We want to seek acceptance from the powers at be and define our successes on their terms. That was the flaw with racial integrationism and that is often the flaw in conventional LGBT+ movements in the modern day.

This show was following a similar trope of a group of queer spies seeking recognition within a fundamentally queerphobic government institution (the AIA), but it subverts the trope near the end by refusing to participate and going against them.

The show also has great foreshadowing for this subversion in the first few episodes. Twink wants to impress Buck, a straight dude who was being verbally abusive towards him, and puts a lot of work into doing it, until he realizes that he doesn’t need the validation of this straight man and validates himself instead. Steve does something similar when he begins to realize this at the party with some of the head executives when he notes that it wasn’t as good as he thought it was.

This mirrors the group - Q-force - they start off trying to get recognized by the Buck of an organization, the AIA, and then realize that the AIA is corrupt and horribly abusive towards queer people (with the whole Greyscale subarc) and thus realize they no longer need the AIA’s validation.

----

The “it’s promoting harmful stereotypes” point

It’s actually not, there are legit people like that. There are fem boys like Twink, there are power vers like Steve, there are cold and calculating guys like Chasten, there are coders like Stat, etc. You can make an argument that that kind of representation is played out and there should be more variety in representation and that’s fair, but also, there are legit gay people like that and there is nothing wrong with that being the case, nor is there anything wrong with portraying that in media.

It is a similar problem, a lot of people try too hard to assimilate into wider cisheterosexual culture with all its phobias and bigotry that they forget about the things that make our community special and unique. We don’t have to earn the approval of this culture, FUCK this culture, they are the ones who need to change, not us. You can never win true acceptance by being a lie, you have to be unapologetically yourself and wait for people to change on their own. And if they don’t, well, fuck them, it’s not our responsibility to pander to homophobes or try to educate them.

I think if a homophobic person sees this show and thinks “See, I was right about them fucking queers” they were always going to have that reaction, even if it was “less stereotypical” or “respectful representation”, because the problem they have is with the fact that there are queer people on their screen, not with the fact that the queer people dress or talk differently.

Pretty much anytime a new queer show comes up, a sea of queer people come out and say “This show is promoting harmful stereotypes!” when in actuality, it’s shining light on a specific part of the queer community. Like Queer as Folk talked about gay sexuality, difficulties with gay hookup culture, the experience of being old and gay and being on the dating/hookup scene, and all the problems therein. That’s a real part of being gay for lots of people and it is worthwhile to investigate that in media. I don’t interpret that as promoting harmful stereotypes, since there is nothing about that media that inherently suggests that “all gays are like this”.

I think if you look at a piece of media in that context and take away that “all gays are like this” or “they are saying that all gays are like this”, to be honest, you might just be projecting your own insecurities onto the text, because there seems to be this subconscious fear that is very close by that says “I don’t want to be associated with THOSE gays”. I’m not saying that queer media NEVER promotes harmful stereotypes, but most of the time, from what I’ve seen, yeah, it just seems to me like people are projecting their internalized queerphobia onto queer media.

[jeongvision]

make a wish

synopsis. jaehyun loves you very much; so much that he came over to your place at midnight to wish you a happy birthday. meanwhile, you also love jaehyun very much; so much that you think that he deserves a very special present from you even on your birthday.

pairing. boyfriend! jeong jaehyun ✗ fem! reader

genre. smut, fluff if you squint a little, established relationship au

word count. 2.9k

warnings. cursing, sexual themes (marking, fingering, choking, grinding, dirty talking, degradation, cum play, power play), some religious analogies

author’s note. make a wish english ver. is making me feel some type of way and jaehyun looking expensive in the mv is not helping me so i had to let it out somehow, so enjoy this thirsty work of art lmao

Today is your birthday, and all Jaehyun planned was to come over to your apartment at midnight with cake and sing you a happy birthday. After that, he’s all yours for the day. You’re free to do whatever you want, whenever you want with him for 24 hours. He was thinking maybe all you wanted to do is just stay in and cuddle while binge watching some netflix shows. Maybe order takeout if you’re feeling a little lazy to cook, and perhaps a few makeout sessions together here and there if you were feeling it. He could tell from your voice how exhausted you were from your work schedule based on the past couple phone calls.

What he did not expect however, is for you to be straddling his hips as you mark his neck up with purples and blues right after you blew out the candles.

And neither did you.

But that’s what makes it all fun, right?

You arrived at your apartment earlier close to 11 at night. work was tiring today. You work as a full-time cashier at a huge department store down the street. It was decent pay, enough to pay for your expenses and live life a little. You didn’t mind how demanding it could be sometimes, how customers can go from being exceptionally patient with your work to customers being absurdly rude to you for just breathing.

However, some of your coworkers called out for a week due to ‘personal reasons’, whatever that may be. Because of that, your manager has been scheduling everyone to work more to make up for all the missing shifts, including you.

You honestly didn’t mind it.

The only time you do is when it doesn’t allow you enough time to regenerate your social battery that you’ve been draining every night for the past two weeks. And every night before your shift ends, without fail, you always think to yourself how much you can’t wait to go home, take a nice, warm bath, and drift off to sleep, only for you to repeat the cycle again the next day. Oh, and maybe call up your boyfriend, if he was still awake, and talk about each other’s day for a bit.

But today is a little different— you finally get a day off to yourself.

You did your nightly after-work ritual: dinner, shower, bath, doze off a little, rinse, dry up, all that good stuff. But once you got dressed and finished blow-drying your hair, your doorbell rang exactly at midnight. You weren’t expecting any visitors this late, so it was reasonable that you were suspicious.

Who the hell? You were on high alert when you walked over to your front door, a wooden baseball in hand. When you went to take a look through the peephole, there was nothing but confusion all over your face. Why is Jaehyun here? As you pondered on, you noticed he held a beige box in both of his hands. As you peered closer you caught glimpse of the familiar label on its right side: it was from none other than your favorite bakery shop.

And that’s when it hit you.

It’s midnight.

You boyfriend is standing right outside your door, holding a box from your favorite bakery shop.

It’s your freaking birthday today.

You didn’t expect Jaehyun to be at your doorstep with a box of cake in his hands. In fact, you didn’t expect to see him at all on your birthday. You remembered him mentioning he had to work on your birthday. He felt bad that he couldn’t spend time with you. There’s always another day, love, you said to him.

And here you two are in the present: the candles have already been lit, birthday song have been sang, and the tiny smoke from the candles wafts through the air after you blew them out. Jaehyun told you that he called off work to spend the day with you and you were free to do whatever you wanted to do with him. You initially thought that spending the whole day inside lazing around would be the most perfect idea ever after all those strenuous hours at work.

But you had another idea in mind, an idea that stayed in the back of your mind after he sent you a scandalous text last week, stating all the things he wanted to do with you behind closed doors, away from public’s view. Of course he had to conveniently send it during your work shift and your nosy coworker just happened to peer over your shoulder reading the contents. It was all pure jest, my love, he said to you.

A joke it may be, but there’s no harm in making them come true, right?

Your arms are circled around his neck, legs stationed on either side of his legs with your ass planted firmly on his lap. You’re both sat on your living room couch, bodies pressed against each other with the cake long forgotten on your coffee table behind you. His hands are tucked underneath your shirt, caressing your soft skin.

As you continue to nip all over his neck, marking him up, he maneuvers his hands down to your rear, giving them a light squeeze. You sigh at his touch.

“Baby girl,” he grunts, “just what do you think you’re doing?”

You nip at a particular spot on his neck and he groans out loud. God, just the sound of him is enough for you to wet your panties. After licking down on his skin, you pull away from his neck and look down at your creation— there are blue and purple galaxies all over his throat, his lips are red and had a little swell to them from your sloppy makeout session earlier, and the eyes he looks at you with are filled with nothing but carnal lust for you.

You can’t help but feel pride burst in your chest because you did that. You made him, Jung Jaehyun, your boyfriend, look like that.

You gave him a lopsided grin, and he thinks to himself how he can’t wait to wreck you apart inside and out. “What does it look like I’m doing?” you cooed. You can feel his clothed erection poke at your thigh, pulsating underneath, so you grind on it teasingly, watching as his eyes roll back with his mouth open. “I’m just doing what my boyfriend wished for me to do through our text messages the other day. I wanted to show how appreciative I am that he came over and wished me a happy birthday.”

You face moves closer to his, your lips a breath away from his own. You lower your voice down to a whisper, “Is that wrong for me to do?”

He releases a throaty groan. You can feel him bucking up to gain some friction on his dick but you lifted your hips up a little from his lap. “Fuck,” he grunts.

You giggle softly at his reaction. You were never the one to take charge in bed. Jaehyun was always the one to initiate something and follow through with it. You didn’t mind it. In fact, you loved it. but the power you felt over him now was But you feel drunk on the feeling; you savored it, you felt intoxicated, and you wanted more.

Fuck it, screw those text messages. Let’s change it up a little, shall we? How about you take charge for the night?

But little did you know, that is exactly the opposite of what he was going to give you. It may be your birthday, but there’s no way in hell that you’re going to top tonight. You already mentioned those text messages he forgot about, and there’s no way he’s going to make you turn your words back on it.

Before you could even register anything, his right hand that was planted on your ass moves to your front where he cupped your clothed sex. You gasp, eyes blown out, hands now gripping onto his shoulders.

“O-oh!” you mewl.

And so, the reins have been handed over to him. As it should, he thinks. He smirks a little. His fingers rubs against your core at an agonizingly slow pace just to tease you a bit. He could feel the heat radiating off your body and wanted nothing more than to bask in it.

Just as he was about to move his hand away, you grab his wrist to hold it in place.

“Mm.. more..” you quiver.

He clicks his tongue. “Dirty little whore.”

After feeling how your thin shorts were starting to get drenched, he pulls his hand away from your grasp and shoves them inside your panties. Immediately, he can feel you dripping, his fingers and palm collecting all of your essence. His fingers deftly circle your clit before gliding them back and forth on your soaked folds.

Your mind is in a spiral.

“Holy fuck!” And holy, his fingers are, especially when he inserts two fingers inside your pussy. “O-oh my god, Jaehyun-n!”

He sadistically thrusts in and out of your entrance, his thumb stimulating your nub, your moans getting more fervent. “Acting all spoiled just because I’m letting you do whatever you want with me for your birthday. Just who do you think you are? Should I remind you who’s the one in charge here?” he growls.

You whimper at his words, shamelessly grinding yourself onto his hand as his other wraps snugly around the back of your neck.

He grins, face dangerously close to you now. “Now look at you, all fucked out from only my fingers. This pussy just can’t wait for me to fuck you nice and deep, huh? Is that what you want?”

You didn’t answer him, your mind too preoccupied from the bliss his fingers are giving to you. The sweat forming on your skin created a glistening sheen on your exposed collarbone, and all he wants to do is to just ravage it.

And he just might.

His hand wrapped around your neck tightens a little, sending more pleasure through your body and core.

“Answer me, slut.”

You cry out a little, “Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?”

You fail to swallow back your moans. “I-I want you to.. fuck me nice and- oh!”

His fingers hit that delicious spot inside you, your body jerking in response.

“Fuck you nice and what?”

Your sighs come out shakily, “Nice a-and.. deep, with your c-cock- oh my god!”

“God can’t save you now, fucking slut.”

He feels you tightening around his fingers, sending him to fasten his pace. Your grip on his shoulder intensifies, enough to painfully indent his skin. After a few more thrusts from his fingers, a coil inside you snaps, stars blurring your vision as a shockwave overtakes you. You did nothing to suppress your screams as your juices flowed out your core. His fingers continue to thrust in and out of you throughout your orgasm but finally stops as he sees you start to calm down.

Your breathing is erratic, trying to catch up after that earth-shattering orgasm you just experienced. After he feels you relax in his embrace, he lets go of your neck and rests it on your waist. He pulls his fingers out of your pussy and you shuddered at the loss of contact. Your cum slowly drips out of you onto your panties and shorts, some of it gliding onto your thighs where he can visibly see it.

God, does he want to have a taste. You’re definitely going to need some new shorts and undies now. With your half-opened eyes in a complete daze and your breathing evened out, he brings his fingers to your lips, staring dauntingly at your orbs.

“Suck.”

And you obliged. He pushes his fingers past your mouth and you suck on his fingers, tasting yourself. Your tongue swirls around his digits, all while maintaining eye contact with him.

He gravely groans at the sight. “So naughty..” He pulls his fingers away and takes hold of your chin, ravenously capturing your lips with his own, tasting a little bit of you in the process. Your tongue glides past his as he dominates your mouth whole. Your arms wrap around his neck once more, pulling him closer to your soul. His lips are always soft, and yet he kisses you as if he wants to devour you up until your knees buckled.

He breaks away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting the two of you, and he maneuvers his way down to your throat.

Now it was his turn to paint your neck pretty.

“So fucking naughty for me,” he moans. As he assaults your neck, you rack your nails through his hair, gently pulling on its ends. You could feel him sigh onto your neck as a result of it. He honestly loves it when you pull onto his hair, almost a little too much.

After he was satisfied with his artwork, he looks back up to you and delicately pecks your lips. The corner of his mouth lifts, his dimples now on full display. “Happy birthday, baby.”

You tiredly giggle at the complete change in his demeanor. You were so in love with this man, and you would do anything to make him happy.

“Thank you, my love.”

He grins at you. And he was so in love with you, he would do anything to keep you happy.

He kisses you once again, this time with much more passion and purpose. He held onto your waist as you held onto his neck, enjoying each other’s presence. Afterr staying in each other’s embrace for some time, foreheads touching, a thought popped in Jaehyun’s head.

“You know, you never told me what you wished for.”

Oh, but what is there to wish for when your present is right in front of you?

You shrug your shoulders, “It’s nothing really.”

He tsks out loud, “Baby, we both know that’s a lie.” He moves away from you and leans forward to the side of your face. And all of the sudden, you feel him nibbling your earlobe, kitten licks in between.

You bite down on your lip, struggling to keep your composure together. Surely, you were still recovering from your last orgasm— the attention he was giving to you got you feeling aroused for him again.

He snickers gravely.

Oh how fucking sinful the sound of that is.

“Come on, baby girl. Just tell me. Maybe I can make your wish come true.”

The moan you just released was lecherous to him.

“Answer me, then you shall receive.”

The devil works hard, but Jaehyun works harder.

You quiver at his command. No matter how many times you were intimate with each other, you could never get used to all the dirty talk. Jaehyun was always clear-cut about his wants and needs, but you never were. Mot until you’re pushed on the spot like now.

You swallow down your embarrassment and meekly respond. “I-I.... suck you..”

He stops his teasing and backs up to look at you. “Hm? What was that?” His smirk returns. “I didn’t quite catch that. Speak up, baby. Use your words.”

You refuse to answer, but he pays no mind. You’ll eventually cave in, you always do.

“Baby, I’m waiting.”

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “I didn’t wish for anything.”

“And why is that?”

You eyes opened up but you look away from his gaze, humiliation all over. Hou stammer over your words, “B-Because.. you’re my birthday wish.”

He lazily grins, bringing his left hand to cup your cheek. That’s when you decided to look up into his eyes. “And what do you wish to do with me?”

You gulp. “I want to.. suck you.”

“Suck where exactly?”

Fucking hell. He’s enjoying this way more than you are. Just who is getting their birthday present here? You groan out in a frustrated manner. To hell with this.

“Your cock. I want your cock in my mouth. O want your fucking dick in my mouth and I want you to use my mouth and fuck it like your own personal toy.” After realizing that you just said, you gasp and covered your mouth with both of your hands. You’re now embarrassed out of your mind, completely wanting the ground to just swallow you up.

You just said that to him, but Jaehyun found it quite adorable that you were capable of saying such things.

And so, he removes your hand from your face, grips on your wrist, and kisses you, a loud smooch throughout the room. After that, he places one of your hands onto his prominent bulge, painstakingly waiting for you attention this entire time. “Baby, you don’t have to say it twice.”

And you couldn’t have been quicker. You step off of him, assuming position with your knees on the floor. He hastily stands up from your couch and works on unzipping his jeans with your help. After pulling his dick out, your mouth waters. Veins aligned along its sides, red at the tip with precum leaking out.

He chuckles at you. “Aren’t you an eager little whore?”

Your eyes shoot up to his, eyes sinfully taking you in. “Just can’t wait to have my cock in your mouth, huh? Greedy little whore. zi bet all you want is my cum in your mouth.” He clicks his tongue.

With one hand on his member and the other holding onto the back of your head, you look down at his shaft. You feel him guiding your head towards him. With your mouth wide open, tongue splayed out for him, you could hear the grin in his voice.

“Happy birthday, baby girl. Now make a wish and blow.”

[plush-rabbit]

Corruption Kink + All Might - Headcanons

Request: Hey! I dunno if you're still taking requests for all might, but if you are and you have space, could i request a pre-injury all might x f!reader fic? I was thinking the reader could be significantly younger than him, with like a bit of a corruption kink and a lot of guilt for Toshi. I thought that one shot you wrote for him was adorable! Take care, bunny :)

A/N: Headcanons seem easier for me since I’m still new in writing Toshi (im also not sure if this is entirely corruption but i hope you like it)

-

To the public, All Might is the Symbol of Peace, he’s everything that children and heroes want to become. However, you know him better than that. Or at least, you know him in a way that others don’t and some that possibly wish they did. Toshinori is much older than you, everything about him screams of authority and power that you wish for. The public can approach him, ask for pictures and smile beside him. They can hold his hand and stand beside him, but you, on the other hand, can't do that. What you can do is more intimate, more than what anyone can wish for.

He’s an older man, and he’s a hero. He’s supposed to know what’s best; he’s supposed to be the responsible one in whatever relationship he’s in. You’re the complete opposite from him- you don’t have to worry about the status of being a hero, you don’t have these gruelling responsibilities that he has. While you two are together, he has yet to formally announce to the public about the relationship, which you don’t particularly mind. You know how it would look if he was seen out with a much younger partner. You could already picture the headlines and the comments that would appear, the slander that would go towards your partner. You’re okay with just playing the secret partner; if you were to be honest with yourself, you actually welcome the secrecy, the little bits of love and knowing that you’re the only one to see him in such a light that is anything but the hero face that he shows.

Due to the secrecy in the relationship, most dates are held at home. However, the idea of at-home dates that you both have are quickly depleted and repeated. Frustration plays a part, something heavy and thick in the air. You both are consenting adults, one that is just frustrated at being stuck at home with their partner and the other that holds the weight of the country on their shoulder. It’s only natural that the frustration would turn into something more primal and raw, that you two would comfort each other and become stress relievers to each other. You’re both still fairly young- despite the age gap that puts you at a much younger age than him- and couple that with stress and ansty feelings about the relationship, it leads the two of you to explore a rather more sexual aspect.

The Symbol of Peace is something that is untainted in the eyes of the public. He isn’t necessarily pure- often asked about the features that he seeks out in potential partners- but he is someone who is held to a high standard. He’s a savior to the people, the reason for the lack of crime. He’s the Symbol of Peace and you get to corrupt that. You get to twist his image behind closed doors. He comes from heroism, he holds the image of the golden boy well. On the other hand, you don’t have to worry about the image you hold, you can only hope to make time for your personal life and not make a bad impression on the people you meet. You get to see him in other ways that people could only dream of; you get to see him beg on his knee, his iconic grin ruined, stuffed with a gag and drool covering his chin as he bows before you.

His shoulders are weighed down by the country, by the responsibilities that he has to bear. He’s so used to being admired, to be the number one hero, that when you come along and tilt his head, your lips curved into an almost sadistic smile, he’s willing to listen to you. Even when he's on top, he’s doing what you tell him, listening to every command that you have to say, he’s opening his mouth and suckling on your breasts whining with your pert nipple his mouth as his hand desperately latches onto your body. His cock will be naked, rubbed against your thighs as he begs for release, whimpering about how it all hurts too much. He lets you take the lead, he does whatever you tell him to do, too drunk on lust to actually do anything more than whine and buck his hips into your greedy cunt.

Always in his All Might form, he has yet to reveal his smaller size to you. Perhaps it comes from trust issues or that he wouldn’t know how to bring it up so far into the relationship, but he’s always big around you. At first he felt a twinge of guilt of having you take him in his bigger form, to thrust his cock inside of your cunt and hear you yelp in pain, but if he were to be honest the sound of you in pain added with how your nails would dig into his skin, turned him on in a way that he hadn’t ever thought about. While he gets drunk off of lust from having you take control over him, he also has this more lustful nature to take control over you. He wants to witness as his bulging cock enters you, to hear you cry his name and arch your back to fill his hand with your soft breast and wipe the beading tears away from your eyes. He wants to know that he’s the reason that you’re crying, that it’s because you simply couldn’t handle his cock.

Corruption isn’t something that he wants to say- it leases a bitter taste on his tongue that doesn’t wash away so easily. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s corrupted, he doesn’t want to think what that word means when he’s out on patrol. He wants to rescue people, to help others and be the hero that he want to be rather than think about how soft the inside of your sex is and how it seems to mold to his shape. On certain nights, he’ll visit you when he’s supposed to be out on patrol. He’ll knock on your door and claim that he’s doing an inspection- something that he says for him, just to find a worthy excuse to actually leave his patrol- and he;l lock the door behind him. His moans aren’t loud enough to drown out your words, how you claim how he’s grown idle in his responsibilities- that he would prefer to have his cock sucked on rather than go out and patrol the area. But he is your hero, and you have to at least thank him for taking care of you for the time being that he is there, asking him with his cock in your hand and a devious smile played on your lips if you’re just special or if he does the same with others.

As a hero, he has built his stamina and you welcome that with eager arms and lips. Even after he’s reached his climax, he’s still hard, thrusting lazily into you, begging you to make him release once more. He’ll hold you close to him, his arms thick with muscle and littered with scars, his lips pressed against yours, his tongue thick as it fills your mouth. He wants to keep you close, to hold you and keep his cock buried inside of you until either you or him are too overstimulated to actually continue. You welcome it, you want him to say, to have him pleasure you and think about your needs for the day. Your lps will press against his neck, leaving a bright make in its place. Your words are alluring, asking him to stay the day with you, to ignore his responsibilities for the day and stay nestled inside of you. You promise him that if he were to stay the day, that you would try whatever he wanted, tightening around him and kissing his lips.

You encourage him to stay home by playing on his status. The streets are much safer thanks to him, he’s the reason for everything good right now. Just the mere sight and mention of him is enough for criminals to stop in their tracks and return home with their tails between their legs. He’s allowed to stay home, he’s allowed to take a bit of time for himself to just rest his cock between your thighs and fuck himself between your thighs. It’s during these times that you’ll grip his hair and have him kiss at your sex, pressing your thigh against the side of his head. You’ll tell him how he’s such a good boy, doing all the dirty work that other heroes would rather not do, running your hand through his hair and telling him nothing but sweet things.

There’s pleasure that you take, having him nestled so close to you, almost dependent on emptying himself inside of you. You were the one to reduce the number one hero into a puddle of goo. You were the one to see Toshinori as a sweaty mess, to have him nurse on your breasts and suck on your sex as if it held the sweetest nectar that he would ever have. You convince him to stay. You sit naked on his thigh as he wears his hero outfit, your sex pressed and leaking in heavy arousal onto him. You know that when he goes out, he’ll carry your mark on him. He’ll remember the way that you taste, how you bite into his shoulder and how he humped your leg like a dog, his semen dirtying the inside of a costume. You were the one to reduce the hero to nothing but some sort of lust-filled man who can only muster the thought that he had to release himself inside of you, to fill you with his cock until you’re leaking with his seed.

[shemarmooresfedora]

If the World is Ending, I Want to Fuck You First

Summary: You need to do one last thing during the zombie apocalypse.

Pairing: Kyle Orfman (MGG character in Life After Beth) x Fem!Reader

MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)

Content/Warnings: swearing, smut, blowjob, praise kink, sub!kyle, gun violence (used against zombies), vaginal sex, choking, fluffy ending (let me know if i missed anything)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: okay i know this is a lesser famous mgg character but i beg of you to give this fic a try because i think it’s my best smut yet and i love the ending. you don’t need to have watched the movie to understand (i give a few visuals).

Masterlist

“Open the goddamn door, Jacob,” you pounded on your ex’s door, “I want my shit back.”

A car with sirens pulled up in the driveway. Great, you thought, the cops. But when you turned around, it was just an old tan sedan with ‘Briarwood Security’ written on it.

You turned back around, “Jacob, I know you’re fucking home, you cheating son of a bitch.

“What seems to be the problem here?” a tall, lean man with a slicked back undercut dressed in a beige security uniform approached the front door.

“My cheating ex won’t give me my stuff back,” you continued to pound at the door, “I have a laptop in there!”

He sighed and spoke quietly, “This is technically still trespassing because he didn’t necessarily steal it but let me see what I can do.”

“Jacob Peterson,” he knocked on the door, “This is Briarwood Security. I need you to open the door or I have the clearance to break it down.”

He whispered to you, “I actually don’t,” and you giggled.

Jacob swung open the door with your bag of stuff.

“Take your crap and go,” he shoved the bag into your arms.

“Gladly, asshole,” you checked to make sure everything was in there.

You nodded to the security guard and Jacob slammed the door once again.

“Do you need a ride home?” he asked, noticing your lack of a car.

“I live like a mile away so I just walked here but yeah, if you don’t mind, that would be great,” you accepted.

He opened the trunk for you to put your bag of belongings inside.

“Kyle,” you hummed, looking at his little name tag.

“And you are?”

“Y/N,” you stuck out your hand for him to shake and he accepted it.

“Kyle, I have a proposition for you,” you said as you entered the passenger side of the car.

“Okay…” he looked at you.

“Let me suck your dick.”

Kyle stared straight at you for a minute, not moving.

“Hello?” you asked, waving your hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, what did you say?” he snapped out of his daze.

“Let me suck your dick,” you repeated, “I don’t want his,” you pointed to Jacob’s door, “to be the last dick I sucked and I want him to see your car still parked out here, knowing exactly what we are doing. Plus, you get an orgasm out of it.”

“I’m on the job,” he tried to resist.

“If you really don’t want to, that’s okay. I’m not trying to pressure you. I just think this could be a mutually beneficial agreement.”

Kyle nodded, putting the car in reverse and starting to back out of the driveway. He made it about halfway before he braked and put the car back in park.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Please,” he begged.

You looked down and as your eyes adjusted to the evening darkness, you could see the obvious bulge strain in his khakis.

You leaned over the center console, untucking his uniform and unbuckling his belt. You slowly unzipped his fly to tease him as he squirmed underneath you.

“Patience, my sweet boy” you hummed and your warm breath fanned out across his dick.

His needy whines were beautiful. You sat back up and removed your shirt, leaving you in just a lacy bralette.

“Please,” he pleaded again.

“Because you asked so nicely,” you leaned back down and licked a long strip up from the base of his dick to the tip, swirling your tongue at the top.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands moving to your hair.

“Hands off,” you ordered and he whined but complied.

You took him in inch by inch. He was certainly the biggest you’ve ever been with. You gagged when he bottomed out in your throat.

You could feel him using all his self-control to restrain his hands to his side.

You bobbed your head up and down, taking up a quick pace. His melodic groans filled the car.

“I’m gonna-” he panted, “Can I please cum?”

“Yes, you’ve been such a good boy for me, baby. Let go. You can touch me now,” you spoke.

His hands moved to your hair just as his hips bucked up, shooting his load into your mouth. You accepted it all with a moan and swallowed.

You took a few more gentle sucks before releasing him from your mouth. As you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, Kyle stared at you adoringly.

“Ummm, thank you? I’m not really sure what to say,” he finally spoke.

“Just drive,” you laughed.

-

You woke up to a loud crashing sound coming from downstairs. You reached for your cell but it was dead even though it was plugged in. The power must have gone out. You grabbed your emergency battery-powered flashlight from underneath your bed and your bottle of pepper spray.

You quietly snuck down the stairs but when you turned the corner, you came face-to-face with your old kindergarten teacher who died a couple of years ago. She was definitely dead but still walking somehow. You screamed as she tried to grab you as you ran for the door.

You burst out of the door to see the street crawling with zombies of dead people you used to know. You ran towards the direction of the police station. You got about a half a mile until the deceased retired high school football coach tackled you to the ground.

You fought and kicked and screamed, trying to avoid him biting you. You thought it was over until you heard the sound of a gunshot and the zombie limply collapsed on top of you. You pushed it off with a yelp.

A hand reached down to help you up, you looked up to see Kyle standing there in a slightly bloody orange jumpsuit.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded slowly.

“We should get off the street but I’ve cleared this whole neighborhood so we should be okay,” he grabbed your hand.

You looked down at your interlocked hands, “I don’t know if it’s just the adrenaline talking but if the world is ending, I want to fuck you first.”

Kyle smiled softly, “It would be a hell of a last memory but I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He pulled you towards his house and jumped the fence to his backyard.

“I don’t think zombies can climb,” he said, looking up at his childhood treehouse.

“This is a first,” you laughed softly as you headed up the ladder with Kyle right behind you.

“I can feel your eyes staring at my ass,” you said as you climbed the ladder.

“It’s right in front of me! Where do you want me to look?” he defended himself.

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing,” you smirked.

Immediately upon crawling into the treehouse, your lips were on his.

“How do you want it, baby?” you whispered into his ear.

“Ride me, please,” he whined.

You put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back onto the wooden floor. You unzipped his jumpsuit hastily, ripping your shirt and shorts off in the process.

You released his dick from the confines of his tight black boxers and stroked it a couple of times.

“You ready?” you asked as you lined yourself up above him.

“Yes,” he nodded enthusiastically.

You sank down on his dick, adjusting to the feeling of him inside you. Kyle’s head fell back in pure pleasure.

You wrapped a tentative hand around his neck, only applying more pressure when his moans increased in volume.

His hips were bucking up to meet yours at a ferocious pace.

“Ah fuck! I think I just got a splinter in my ass,” he yelped.

“Shhh baby, you can take it. You’re fucking me so good, my sweet boy,” you continued to ride him and guided his hands up to your boobs.

Kyle groaned at the praise, “I’m close-God, I’m so close.”

“Give me a few more seconds. I know you can, baby,” you frantically rubbed your clit in order to finish with him.

“Okay, fill me up like a good boy,” you whispered into his ear.

Kyle’s hands grappled at your hips as he bucked up into you one last time. As you both came down from your highs, you collapsed on top of him.

The two of you just laid like that for a while. Catching your breath while soaking up the skin-to-skin contact.

“You know I was going to go back to your apartment and ask you on a date? You know…before the whole world went to shit. Besides giving me the best blowjob of my life, you just seemed like a really cool, beautiful girl,” Kyle admitted.

“Too bad you didn’t get the chance, I would have said yes.”

“Can I leave you here for just a second?” he asked quietly.

You hugged him closer, “I would prefer it if you didn’t.”

“Well, I would prefer it if you stayed up here where I know it’s safe. I need to get supplies and I’m armed,” he reasoned with you.

“Promise you’ll come back,” you had tears in your eyes.

“I promise,” he held out his pinky and you wrapped yours around it, both of you kissing your fists.

You and Kyle got redressed and you watched him climb down the ladder and head into his house with his gun fully loaded. And then, you waited. You counted the seconds. You were at 381 when he finally returned.

“Thank god,” you let out a sigh of relief.

He started to unpack the bag he brought with him. He pulled out a blanket and set it on the floor for you both to sit on. Then, pillows. Next, he pulled out leftover cold pizza.

“Ah, gourmet,” you jokingly smiled.

He pulled out red solo cups and placed one in between you both, putting in a rose he plucked from his mom’s rose bush.

Finally, he pulled a very expensive bottle of whiskey from the bag and filled your cups.

“My dad was saving this for a special occasion, I think zombies coming back from the dead and the world ending qualifies,” he grinned.

The world didn’t end. In fact, you were just starting your new life with your future husband.

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