#and if you want me to tag behind you on a train

[jiminiecrickets]

KILLER? I BARELY KNOW HER! FUSHIGURO TOJI / M!READER

summary. shadows of your past catch up to you – but you're the strongest, and there's nothing you can't handle.

wc. 5.5k

tags. smut | top reader, bottom toji. mentions of underage drinking. sorcerer + teacher reader, enemies-to-lovers (with extra steps), sorta sugar baby toji/rich reader, doggystyle + missionary, mentions of exhibitionism + filming, unprotected sex, brief degradation (r. receiving), brief breeding kink, implied shower sex

notes. every dark-haired male jjk character deserves a silly and illogically powerful best friend with whom they have romantic tension :3 you're him. literally.

The pleasant chime of the doorbell echoes throughout your home. You're not expecting anyone.

You know you should be careful. In fact, you shouldn't be staring at the back of the front door at all. Opening it would ruin the carefully put-together façade of the closed-curtain windows and dark rooms.

Maybe you're tired, and you forget, moving on instinct. Maybe you're bored.

Maybe you're hopeful.

The door inches open, and a man looks up from where he'd been staring listlessly at the flower-spotted bushes lining the patch of green between the entrance and the driveway. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, and his eyes are dark, flickering with an emotion you can't quite catch before it flutters away.

"Toji?" you say, the surprise in your voice teetering on warmth. "Hey..."

"Hey," he replies – exhales, really, something like a hum. He reaches up by his shoulder, the action too familiar for you not to stiffen, but he just rubs the back of his neck, stretching out the cricks of his body. "So. New place, huh?"

Your hand rests behind the door. He knows better than to expect it to be empty. "Old, technically. It was my first property purchase."

He tilts his head. "Yeah? When did you get it?"

"Fifteen. A birthday present for myself – a gift for surviving another year of high school. And curses, I guess. Surviving them was way worse because getting their blood in my mouth made me want to die."

He scoffs, and the raised scar over the corner of his lips shifts with his amusement. "Fifteen... And what does a teenager do with a house?"

You shrug. "Drink. Party. Pirate movies. The usual."

"Hah. Sounds like you were a fun kid." Toji scuffs the toe of his sandals against the ground absently. Then he rolls his neck and sighs. "Look, I didn't come all the way here to talk history. Long-ass way out, too, so just let me in."

Lifting an eyebrow, you give him a once-over that feels keener than it should be. "Are you here to kill me?"

"What, you think I'm here for that bounty? Who do you think I am?"

"Don't blame me. You seem very well aware of it."

"Isn't worth the effort for the price. 'Sides, you've given me more than that over the years, haven't you? I like to keep my options open, and it seems to me like it's a better investment to keep you alive."

"You talk as if you could kill me at all," you mutter, a little disdainfully, but it dissipates swiftly when Toji cracks a smirk, so familiar and entwined deeply with your favourite memories. The breeze stirs lightly, and Toji's hair ruffles, almost blue in the sunlight.

"Couldn't I? You're the one who runs away."

"Yeah, after immobilising you. Not a lot of fun to be had if you're dead as a doornail. Say – how deep are you in the jujutsu world? You must be rusty. I'd be willing to help you train."

"You'd help me kill your fellow sorcerers?" He chuckles and arches a brow. "I'll have you know I'm looking at a contract worth thirty million from a bunch of religious crazies."

"Peanuts." You wave a dismissive hand. "Now that I mention it, I'm getting complacent, too... I could use the challenge. Keep in contact with me and I'll pay you double."

"You're paying me to use my body?"

"Your words, not mine."

He holds your gaze steadily for a while, and despite his airy voice, his eyes are thoughtful. "Let's not talk business on your doorstep. Lost your manners, have you?"

Finally, your shoulders loosen, and the tension in your body vanishes. With a soft chuckle, you pull the door open further and step aside. "Don't make me regret this."

"Please," he says, slipping out of his sandals and into your home. "You never do."

Zenin. Fushiguro. The Sorcerer Killer. All of his names, all of his history, and yet, to you, he is just your baby – your Toji. It'd be embarrassing if he cared enough to be embarrassed, he thinks as you draw him into a rib-shattering hug. Instead, he feels smug.

Before that Gojo kid, there was you. It wasn't a position you were born for – like the kid was – but you trained your way up and eventually found yourself most suited for the role, all but waltzing into it – because what youth wouldn't want to be number one? It was almost gross, your selflessness and single-minded ambition, and Toji knew how that sort of mindset made the people in power feel. They commissioned him for your death at one point, after all.

It was fun. You were both so young: dancing around each other's weapons as if it was all a stage, chasing each other's clues like a couple of dogs running after a bone. Still – you were society's best, the cream of the crop, and for you to be his, of all people, was a selfish triumph he indulged in too many times to count.

His hands creep up beneath your baggy shirt as he leans up to kiss you, tongue slipping between your lips to share in the taste of some expensive whisky he can't name. He hums – a low, rumbling sound, like a tiger chuffing – as his fingers bump over thick, warm muscle.

Blood and bone. That's what you all are, when it comes down to it.

"You should wear tighter clothes," he murmurs against your lips. "Less to grab in a fight."

The backs of his thighs press into the edge of the kitchen bench, where a forgotten glass of water sits – the remnant of your half-hearted attempt at being a good host while his lips found your neck.

You huff. "A 'fight', huh? I wasn't expecting one."

"You should always expect a fight. While you're at it, always expect to lose. Stops you from being disappointed."

"Sounds pessimistic."

"That's the price we pay for being good at what we do."

"As if you pay for anything, Toji."

He chuckles. He drops the hem of your shirt before sliding his palms up your chest – what a tease – and cupping your face. His hands are warm, callused, thrumming with lifeblood. He sweeps his thumb absently over your cheek, committing every pore of your face to memory. You have the urge to pull away, look down, like a schoolboy with a crush – but Toji's hands are firm.

"C'mon, at least look me in the eye before we kick this off. You that ashamed of me?"

Startled, your gaze flicks up to his. Instead of the half-wry look you expect, he smirks and pulls you in to meet his lips. His fingers interlace loosely at the nape of your neck, caging you in place, and you have no choice but to bend to his whim.

"Stupid," you mutter against his lips, mostly to yourself. "Stop playing with my feelings, Toji – that's manipulative. You're breaking my heart here."

Rather than pulling away himself, he pushes you away, a palm flat on your chest but without any real power. It remains there as he leans back against the stone countertop. "My bad, baby. It's just funny."

"Funnier than you calling this," you gesture between your chests, "something to 'kick off' after... how many years? If you weren't all over me seconds ago, I'd think you came over for a beer and a game."

He lifts his hands in teasing surrender at your accusatory tone. "All right. We'll fuck, then. Maybe include some heavy petting for the B-roll, if you're up for it. Sound good?"

You cross your arms over your chest and muster up a suitable amount of annoyance for a glare. Toji finds it hard to take you seriously – what with your dumb jokes and ridiculous inclination towards flashy fighting – so to him, it's more of a pout. "So, you got lonely without me, huh? Yeah, nah. We're not filming ourselves."

"Hm." It's not a yes, but it's not a disagreement, either. "Why not? It'd be hot."

"I'm a teacher, Toji," you remind him, clicking your tongue when he shrugs, one hand on his hip. "I don't want that kind of thing to exist. If it got out..."

"So you are ashamed of me," he mutters. He steps forward to grab your hands when you start to protest, visibly distressed. He snickers. "Kidding, kidding. Fuck, it's fun to play with you. You don't care about the other one, then? The one from the abandoned restaurant?"

"Well—" Your breath stutters when Toji absently compares hand sizes and laces your fingers together. You watch as he aligns four of his fingers against your ring finger specifically, one at a time as if comparing again, but this time...

"Well?" he prompts, his grin broadening. His shaggy hair falls across his eyes as he tilts his head.

"Well, I don't look like I did ten years ago, and as far as I know, my face isn't in it..." All logic scatters like leaves in the wind when he looks up at you through his lashes, that playful, pretty smirk of his tugging at your heartstrings just right. It's like the years never passed. You swallow. "I-It was different," you finish lamely.

Toji's eyes flicker down to your lips. With a flick of his wrist, he twists a hand in your collar and tugs you down so that your faces are inches apart. Your chests collide roughly. He doesn't seem to care, his gaze trained on you with a heavy, smoky intensity. "Fine. If you won't let me film it, you better make it memorable. I'll decide later if it was worth coming here for."

—

Toji should have known you were serious when you pulled the bedframe about six inches out from the wall. He'd laughed at first, insulting you for such uptight behaviour regarding something as boring as walls, but you'd just dragged him to the bed with a roll of your eyes.

With how loud he was moaning, you could only be glad that he didn't find you at your apartment property.

"Toji," you breathe, your gaze trapped on the tight, firm ass ricocheting off your hips. Your grip tightens. "Toji."

"Fuuuck," he drawls as his cock throbs, prying his eyes open to narrow them at you over his shoulder. Lust has turned the usual green of them nearly black. "What?" he bites out.

"I missed you. Missed this. Fuck, baby, you're so fucking tight."

He lets out a throaty chuckle, turning back around to rest his head on his forearms. With a shift of your hips, your cock punches his prostate, over and over, and his eyes roll back briefly, a pleased groan rumbling from the depths of his stomach. His dick pulses and swings uselessly between his muscular thighs.

"M-Men are all the same," he grumbles. You click your tongue, though you don't miss the way an involuntary moan makes him stutter.

"Awful way to greet an old friend, you know. I thought you were smarter than that. Try being nicer," you slam your hips forward, making his eyes fly open with a gasp, "and you'll get what you want."

His skin prickles when you glide a warm hand up his side and come to rest it upon his shoulder, holding him down with just enough strength to make his muscles flex to fight it. Your thumb rubs little circles into the back of his neck, tracing the dips of his shoulders until you find what you're looking for. You dig into the taut muscle, making him wince.

"Stressed?" you hum, and your voice is gentle. Gentler than he deserves. "Is it money problems again?"

Something like guilt stirs in his belly, but a well-angled thrust has his thoughts unravelling. "No."

"No?"

"No," he repeats. You hum in response and don't push the matter further.

Your hand lifts from his shoulder, and already he can feel the stiffness returning. Damn those God-hands of yours. He finds himself arching back, bracing against the bed, in an effort to return your hands to their rightful place.

You hush him sweetly, pressing your chest to his back and burying your face in the crook of his neck. The angle has the shaft of your heavy cock pressed right up against his prostate and his body jolts with the fiery burn of pleasure, his knuckles turning white as he fists the sheets. "No need to chase me anymore. Not going anywhere. 'M right here, baby."

Toji manages to scoff, and his voice is steadier than he expects. "Not chasin' you, asshole."

"Yeah? Then what do you call showing up at my door as you did, unannounced?"

"Welfare check."

You roll your eyes. "I hate you."

You punctuate your sentence by yanking his hips back on your cock, the wet squelch of lube and precome making him shudder. Despite the rough treatment, a moan tumbles from his lips, and he laughs, loose and breathy.

"Fuck me like it, then," he dares, knocking his temple gently against yours.

One hand lifts to card through his hair. He groans softly as your nails scrape his scalp, but his eyes fly wide open as you grab a fistful and tug, wrenching him up to kneel. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip as you wrap your hand around his leaking cock, jerking him off at the same pace as you fuck into him – he swears he sees stars as your thumb and index finger twist roughly around his swollen tip. His cock squelches in your fist, bubbles of precome sliding down his tip and smearing across your palm.

"Fucker," he snarls, ceasing his split second of flailing to grip your hip and thigh. You'd consider it painful if you hadn't also had the pleasure of being stabbed, slashed, shot, and bitten. "Nngh – so fuckin' big—"

"Going back on our word, are we, honey?" you say slyly, twisting your fist up and down his wet cock. "Tsk, tsk, Toji... so forgetful. I'd say you're getting old."

You glide a fingernail up the line of his vein, making his hips stutter and forcing another curse to slip from his lips, and you dig the tip of your finger roughly into his leaking slit. He moans and his back arches against your hold as your throbbing cock easily slides deep into him, the harsh, rapid smack of your balls against his ass almost disorienting.

He shudders. The heat of his body pulls his skin too tight, makes his tongue heavy and clumsy. Your hands are not quite soft – years of weapons training and hand-to-hand combat would do that to someone – but they're sweet on him. Loving, nearly. Your warmth softens the rub of calluses and tough scar tissue, and Toji learns them anew.

"C'mon, baby... want you to talk to me. Love your pretty little sounds." You end the sentence in a whisper, patting his stomach with the absent sort of friendliness you had as a youth. You never shied away from touching him, rewarding him with your weight draped over his shoulders or entwining your fingers when he did something that pleased you.

That familiar feeling jolts him back to reality. He glances your way – perhaps to say something, but he doesn't remember what about – and you capture his lips with yours, tilting your head and running your tongue over his lower lip.

He keeps them sealed, airtight.

You groan into the kiss and nip at him pleadingly, because you'd have to break Toji's jaw to get him to open up – and you couldn't do that to your favourite killer. Your name falling from his lips like a prayer is too sweet to pass up on.

Eventually, with enough petting and kisses, Toji relents, if only to see you perk up like a puppy tossed a bone. He groans softly as you explore his mouth, tongue curling around his and gliding over his teeth.

Your breath is hot and sweet against his, your lips shockingly gentle despite the quick and steady pace of your hips bouncing off his ass. He jolts every time your cockhead kisses his prostate, swollen and sensitive from your unrelenting pace. His dick bobs, dark red and pulsing hotly in your palm, and he groans like an injured animal. It's almost desperate.

Your shaft drags against his slick walls, which clench with a rippling squeeze as if he's trying to milk you dry. With each hungry snap of your hips, your tip punches the breath out of his lungs. His vision blots out, and he swears he can feel your cock in his damn throat.

Without warning, and without a word, he comes, his expression going lax with pleasure as he releases thick ropes onto his stomach. It's four hard spurts and two weaker pulses, the slow, measured tugs of your wrist twisting in a way that has his thick thighs trembling.

You coo softly, and Toji's face is uncharacteristically warm. Little kisses drift their way up his shoulder and neck and he sighs softly, eyes shut and head tilted back against your shoulder. You press your palm against his chest to feel the heart thudding beneath his ribs, the rise and fall with each shallow breath.

You cup his chest and squeeze.

He cracks an eye open, disapproval furrowing his brows. In response, you grin cheekily and nip at his earlobe as you smooth your fingers through his hair – a silent apology for being so rough.

To his credit, he lets it go. Doesn't even smack you for being an ass. He does, however, clamp down punishingly around your cock when he pulls off, making you hiss at the scrape. It bobs and you shiver at the cold air.

Thoughtfully, Toji glances down at it, still hard as rock and curving upwards towards your stomach. He reaches for it.

Your eyes widen when he slips a nail under the edge of the condom. "Wh-What are you doing?"

"Don't sound so scared. I know we're both safe. Said ya missed me, right?" He grins, dark and sharp, with eyes half-lidded – almost coy. "I'll let you finish inside me. For old times' sake."

"Contract-sanctioned stalking? I thought better of you, Toji." Despite your flippant words, your breath hitches, and Toji's grin widens. He tugs the slick condom off and tosses it aside – without even tying it up, the bastard – and before you can grumble about it, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him, and presses his lips to yours.

You groan softly as he parts his lips and allows you in. He shifts closer, his knee between yours, and grabs your hand. He brings it down between your bodies.

"Baby..." you whisper as he wraps your hand around your lengths, pressed together. He is hot and velvety in your palm.

"Mm." The sound is deep and content, and he blinks up at you slowly like a cat. "I know. I want it."

Then, slinging his arm loosely around your shoulders, he pulls you down with him.

You barely manage to catch yourself before crushing him, your instincts and reflexes dulled by familiarity and a dreamy languor. Not that you think he'd mind – not with that grin.

Toji spreads his knees and hooks his calves around your thighs. He guides your cock into him again, and he rumbles out a pleased moan as it buries itself hilt-deep into his slick warmth.

His head falls back against the pillows as you press your hips flush against his ass. "Ah, shit..."

"You good, baby?" you murmur, swallowing harshly as his gummy walls flutter tightly around you, as if he can lock you inside forever. Your dick twitches.

"Mmh, fuck, jus' sensitive. Move."

It's only natural that you obey.

Toji feels hotter now that you don't have the layer of plastic to contend with – hotter, wetter, hungrier. You thrust shallowly at first, but as his moans grow louder – less restrained – you allow yourself to move tip-to-base, deep and dirty the way he used to like it. Seems he still does. The rim of his puffy asshole catches on the ridge of your cockhead and his nails rake down your shoulders and back, leaving stinging raised lines in their wake.

Pride fills your chest, inflates your ego. An infamous assassin, the Sorcerer Killer, spread wide and inviting with his cheeks all flushed – he's certainly given you a thousand little deaths. You grip the meat of his ass and lift his hips off the mattress, fucking into his wet heat at a new angle that has him shouting your name.

Maybe it's because you can see his face – see all the pretty cock-drunk expressions that wash over his features – that you find yourself chasing the precipice of release embarrassingly fast. He locks his legs around your waist, thick and muscular, and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Why would you ever want to leave?

"Toji," you grunt, panting softly. "'M gonna..." Your breath fans against his sweat-slick skin, making him shiver and arch into your touch. He cups the back of your neck as you nibble and suck dark bruises into his tanned skin, his lashes fluttering as you shift his thighs on your lap and leave far too many deep red hickeys printed on his skin. You even scatter a few across his collarbones and chest, and you're only pleased when he looks like he was mauled by a bear.

He pants softly, his bitten moans making your cock throb even harder. Fuck, you're so hard – the shape of your teeth printed into his skin for all to see makes you prouder than you'd ever admit. You trace the marks gently with your fingertips and Toji's chest stutters.

Gazing up at you with lidded, unfocussed eyes, he laughs, freer than he had since you met him earlier. Your heavy cock plunges into his stretched hole, again and again and again like you're trying to make him take, and your grip on one of his thighs is tight enough to leave red crescents. He grasps your face, turning it down towards him, and offers a sleazy, roguish grin, breathless. His eyes trace the cut of your cheeks, the curve of your lips.

"You look less stupid than usual. S'all you're good for, ain't it? Fucking me nice an' deep with that fat cock of yours – f-fuck. S'mine, yeah? All mine?"

You shudder and groan, bone-deep, and Toji can feel the heavy throbbing of your cock leaking inside him. The slick feeling of you against his walls builds a hot ball of arousal in his lower belly. Your chest heaves against his and your stomach tenses, familiar planes of muscle firm against his hand. Excitement roars through him like a wildfire – eager and keening.

He yanks you down for a devouring kiss as you come, catapulting off the precipice into white bliss. You gasp into it. His ass clenches around you with his own release as he moans, his soft walls stroking you and sucking you in.

He's so fucking warm, so fucking wet. His body is slick with sweat and he shoves his tongue into your mouth like a man starved. Maybe he is. You groan, low and pleased, and his thighs tighten around you like a cage, possessive in his hungry, unyielding embrace.

Spilling into him is heaven. You've died and ascended, you're certain of it. He drinks you deep, as if he was made for it, and lets his head fall back against the pillows with a less-than-steady sigh as your balls tighten and pulse hotly against his skin. Dragging it out, you grind your hips into his ass in lazy circles, huffing and puffing against his throat as if you've run a marathon. Your fingers graze his own, fluttering in a way that seems almost... uncertain.

Hah. As if you knew what that word meant. You were unshakeable, infallible. The strongest. You'd hold onto that title for as long as you could; the burden was heavy.

Rather disappointingly, you don't choose to hold his hands. They glide down his waist and hips, making him shiver, and you slowly pull out, the solid but gentle grip on his thighs never wavering. You set him down as if he was made of glass and his body twitches as thick come leaks from his stretched hole, dripping and pooling white below his ass.

He tosses a lazy arm over his eyes, bending one knee and bracing against the bed. Another hot gush of come. "Ah, f-fuck... shit. You still come like a truck..."

Your gaze, once so dark and sultry as if you were about to eat him alive, now snaps to him, wide and kind and so embarrassed that Toji can't help but crack a grin.

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He rolls his eyes. "Other than the hickeys, no. Wouldn'ta minded it anyway," he adds slyly, peering out from within the shadow of his arm. "Pretty hot when you get creative."

Shuffling off of the bed with a soft chuckle, you pick up the discarded condom and toss it in the bin. You pull open the wardrobe with a flex of a wall of muscles that Toji watches keenly, spreading his knees to eye you through them. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip.

"Y'know, I was thinking," you begin suddenly, rifling through clothes and drawers.

"You can do that?"

"Shut up. I was thinking about you – your situation."

He closes his eyes and sinks back into your bed. "When'd you have the time? Not while you were fucking me, I hope."

"Just listen, Toji." You turn around, washcloth in one hand and a pile of clothes in the other. Dark, but loose and unremarkable – as he prefers it. You toss the clothes at the bottom of the bed and disappear into the adjoining bathroom, raising your voice as the faucet squeaks on. "I was wondering if you'd wanna... you know – catch up. Or at least let me help you."

You continue, "I could find you a place in a better school zone, get you set up legitimately. Honestly, actually, you wouldn't even need to work. You could just focus on your family and I'd take care of the rest."

Toji sits up, ignoring the pinch of pain and the mess between his legs. It'll ache later, so he'll deal with it later. "What?"

"I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, heard you the first time. But why?" He lowers his voice as you return to him and begin to clean him up. He meets your eyes and his mouth takes on the beginning slant of a smirk. "My ass that good, huh? You want me to be your sugar baby?"

Heat floods your cheeks. "You're not that hot, Toji. Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Wasn't talking about my face. Still – it's not like you to beg me to go on the straight and narrow. What's with that?"

"At the risk of sounding humiliatingly sappy after sex," you sigh, sitting back and dropping the cloth aside, "I still care about you. A whole fucking lot. I only want good things for you, Toji, and I have all this excess wealth that I can't donate fast enough, so if I can change just two more lives – I'd beg for the chance."

The desire to change lives without ending others'. He can understand the sentiment.

"What would you want from me?"

For a moment, you're taken aback by the tiredness in his voice. You blink. "Nothing? Like I said, the money would just vanish into a charity otherwise. Well – maybe I'd like to be invited over on the weekends, and maybe drop off-slash-pick up itty-bitty Megumi every so often. He's that age, right? Oh – and you gotta let me into the kitchen. I make a mean lasagne. Wonder if the boy would like it..."

He snorts. "That's a lot of conditions."

"Well, I am offering to let you live like a plump and happy housewife, so..."

He's quiet for a while, his hair falling over his eyes in a way that blocks your view of his face. You toss a rolled-up towel at his head, and he catches it without looking.

He lowers the towel. "You... don't seem to care that I left you."

"No, I didn't at all care that my friend dropped off the face of the earth without warning." You cross your arms and scoff, the smile slipping from your face. "I only heard about what happened months after you vanished, and by that time, there was nothing I could do to search for you. I had too many people looking at me to dig up old underground contacts and not enough time to comb through the country myself. You could have talked to me, you know," you say, your voice softening. "I would never turn you away."

He shrugs, noncommittal. "It's like you said – too many people looking at you. Would be alarming if I came strolling up to your door, wouldn't it?"

"You did today," you point out.

"Yeah, when there's a bounty on your head. I could be killing you right now."

You scoff, though the hint of a smile flickers across your lips. "You're impossible. But fair point. Just... think it over, okay? Come find me after all this bounty business is over and done with. You know where I live."

Toji chuckles softly, and he accepts your offered hand. You lead him to the large bathroom and he threads his towel over the rod next to what must be yours. He stares longer than he should, but the sight of the two towels beside each other – his green, yours blue – forms a lump in his throat that's hard to swallow around. His heartbeat quickens.

The sound of water hitting the tiles fills the bathroom. He raises his voice over it. "Hey."

Glancing over, your arm shimmering with water droplets from where it rests against the faucet handle, you tilt your head wordlessly.

"I should be picking up the kid in a couple of hours," he explains, "at six. As far as he and the childcare know, I work a normal nine-to-five like the rest of 'em. You could go."

Your eyes widen, and you let out an endeared laugh. "Toji, Megumi doesn't know who I am. The last time we met, he was a newborn. I'm not about to give everyone a heart attack by showing up on your behalf."

"It wouldn't be on my behalf, dumbass." His tone borders between disparaging and fond. "I'd go with you."

"Wh—?" Your throat bobs harshly. The shower seems forgotten, and Toji pushes you backwards into it with a palm on your chest because he's not about to waste the water. It pours onto your head, your hair beginning to stick to your face, and it still doesn't seem to register. A smile pulls at his lips as he reaches for your body wash, scanning the label while your brain putters out and short-circuits.

You didn't expect an answer that soon.

"You heard me," he says coolly, as if this is a normal Tuesday for him. He squirts a dab of body wash onto his palm. "Isn't this what you asked for? In my opinion, it's not that fun. I get a lot of women chattin' me up while we wait. Awkward as hell since I can't be rude or they might tell their kids, and then their kids won't like Megumi... ah, it's a big deal. You being there will help. You love to talk, so you can do it for me. Good game plan, right?"

"Toji, I..."

"The fact that I'm talking more than you worries me."

"You said pick-up's at six, right?" you say suddenly, the glint in your eyes intensifying.

He arches a brow, glancing up at you. "Yeah."

"That means we have an hour." You lean in, trapping him against the glass of the shower. There's a hint of mania in your gaze, starved with a vehement zeal. "I'm gonna fuck you, now."

His eyes widen. A feral grin spreads across his face. He laughs against your throat and moans when you press your thumb roughly into one of the many hickeys littering his neck and chest. "You're crazy. Fuckin' crazy – oi."

It's disturbingly easy for you to lift him by his thighs and press him against the cool glass. His skin prickles as he grips your shoulders and mutters, his breath mingling with yours: "If you drop me, I'll kill you."

"Promise?" you ask with a breathless grin.

He crushes his lips to yours. No one else gets the privilege of taking your little deaths.

[petersasteria]

That's That Me Espresso - G-Dragon/Kwon Ji-Yong

Pairing: Senior barista!Ji-Yong x New barista!Reader Summary: Coffee shop AU. Haters to lovers.

A/N: HEAVILY inspired by my life bc i work as a barista and it's my first job and i've been a barista for like a year and 6 months

You're a fresh graduate with a degree of hospitality and restaurant management. You've always wanted to start your own business, but you wanted to have enough work experience first. Lucky for you, your favorite coffee shop near your apartment is hiring. After you did your chores, you got ready and went to the coffee shop.

Upon opening the door, you were immediately greeted by the warm welcome of the baristas there with an award-winning smile. Of course, you smiled back as you approached a man behind the counter. He smiled, "Hi! What can I get you?"

"Um, hi," You squinted and read his nameplate, "Ji-Yong! I saw that you were hiring and I was wondering if that position has been filled already?"

He looked at you and smirked, "No, it hasn't been filled yet. Though, if it were up to me, you can start today and I'll personally train you. I've been a certified barista trainer for 5 years." He looked very proud of himself. You scrunched your face a little bit before saying, "Anyway, I'd like to leave my resume here." You handed him your resume and he gladly took it from your hand.

He skimmed through everything and nodded a few times with an impressed look on his face. He glanced at you and said, "Cool credentials." He placed your resume on the counter and looked at you, "Listen, I'm like the second senior barista here so I'm basically like a supervisor at this point."

Why was he telling you this?

"Um, okay. Good for you." You said. He chuckled.

"I'm telling you that info because I was going to let you know that you can sit down and I'll tell the manager. It's a bit of a slow day, anyway. I'm sure she can give you an interview today." He smiled.

"Oh, that'd be great! Thank you, Ji-Yong." You gave him a curt smile.

"Maybe next time, you'll call me 'baby' instead." He flirts and winks at you before disappearing in the back office to talk to the manager. You shook your head and sat down on one of the tables near the counter.

After about a minute, you hear footsteps approaching you and you look up to see a different barista holding a tray with a cup of warm latte adorned with a beautiful, simple latte art. "Here's your complimentary latte, miss." He smiles.

"Thanks you..." you trailed off. He didn't have a name tag.

"Oh! Sorry. My name is Daesung."

"Thank you, Daesung! I'm Y/N." You both shook hands and conversed a little bit. You learned that he only started working there the week before and you were quick to learn that he's quite funny. After a quick chat with Daesung, he went back to work after Ji-Yong told him to come back and help make drinks.

The manager walks out of the back office, sees you, and smiles. She walked over to you and said, "Y/N Y/L/N?"

You nod before standing up. You reached out your hand for her to shake, which she did, and said, "You must be the manager."

"Yes, I am. Let's take a seat and talk about your application."

-

Needless to say, the interview was a success. Today's your first day and you were excited and nervous at the same time. It's your first job, after all. You dressed in a simple outfit and when you arrived there, your manager was quick to inform you that Ji-Yong would be your trainer.

Oh, how you found him annoying as hell.

Since he's your trainer, all your breaks are scheduled together. Every chance he'd get, he wanted to be close to you. It started with small things. He would stand next to you and guide your hands to steam the milk correctly, he'd sit next to you on your break time and take a peek on who you're messaging, he'd take a bite of your food before running off laughing. You'd always roll your eyes and just let him be. It was clear that he wanted a reaction from you and you didn't want to give him that satisfaction.

After a pleasant month of working at the cafe, Ji-Yong decided that it was finally time to train you on the ins and outs of working behind the register. You were extremely nervous. When you asked him for advice, all he said was, "Just don't press the wrong thing."

One day, your manager didn't come in for work because her son was sick and didn't have anyone to take care of him due to her husband being away for business. That would mean Ji-Yong had to step in and play the manager role. After all, he was currently on store manager training.

Throughout the day, many people came in and out of your store and at one point, the line reached the door. Daesung was absolutely busting his ass off making drinks as fast as he could, Taeyang was quickly calling out people's names for them to claim their drinks, and Ji-Yong was jotting down advanced orders and placing them down next to the register for you to see while he heats up the pastries customers bought to quickly hand it to them as they wait for their turn to pay.

And you? Well, you were doing your best. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, you wanted to have a mental breakdown. But you sucked it all up because you were NOT going to cry today. Especially not now when your trainer, Ji-Yong, is stressed. Of all the days the manager's son could've gotten sick, it had to be on a busy weekend. Ji-Yong was on his wits end.

There were actually two registers, but Ji-Yong decided that since you're under-staffed, that would leave Daesung the only one left to make drinks if he made you and Taeyang transact customers. He had enough compassion and empathy to know that it wouldn't be nice for Daesung to be left like that. That's why he chose you to transact customers as part of your training.

'Taeyang got off easy.' You thought to yourself.

Ji-Yong was quite intimidating and scary. You've never seen him like this before. He was usually fun and relaxed. Not today. He moved so quick. When he joined Daesung to make drinks, he got the ice blended drinks while Daesung worked on the simple hot and iced drinks. In the span of 5 minutes, Ji-Yong was able to make 20 drinks all by himself (tricky promotional drinks included). Daesung was only able to make 10 drinks. A bit irate by that, Ji-Yong sternly said, "Taeyang, you know Daesung's only been here for only a month and he's not that quick yet. You've been here for a year and you know it's a rushed day. Switch."

It was chilling to hear. Taeyang and Daesung immediately switched places, not wanting to be killed by Ji-Yong's intimidating gaze. If they were nervous around him, they can't imagine how scared you are of your trainer. It was at this moment you wanted him beside you because when he left to help make drinks, it felt chilly and you were scared.

After he was done with the ice blended drinks, he wiped his sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, wiped his hands on his apron, took a deep breath, and walked towards you. By now, the line is shorter, but it's still a lot of people.

"How are you?" He quietly asked as he looked for his notepad; preparing to take advanced orders.

"I'm hanging in there." You replied meekly. He snorted before taking advanced orders again. You glanced at him as he plastered a fake smile on his face while conversing with customers to make them less irate. He was quite charming, even though you hated to admit it. You were grateful for him despite the annoying shit he does.

Eventually, peak hours were over and it was now time for a break. Coincidentally, there were no people left. Just then, Ji-Yong did the unthinkable.

"Everyone, gather around." He called out. You, Taeyang, and Daesung left your posts and walked towards him. He was standing by the pastry case, his hand on top of the glass as he leaned over, deep in thought.

"What I'm about to do, shall never reach our manager. I trust you all and I know you guys have trust in me. I wouldn't be here if you didn't." He said quietly. It was almost dramatic like in some Captain America movie where he's going to sacrifice himself or something.

"What're you gonna do?" Taeyang asked, curious about his actions.

He removed his hand on the glass, turned around to face all of you and said, "I've decided to close the store for an hour to get our much needed and long awaited lunch breaks. Because of all your hard work and commitment, I bought all of us lunch and you're free to get your complimentary drink. I'll make a sign that says we'll be closed for an hour. Until then," He trailed off.

He looked at you, "Y/N clear the register. Make sure nothing's on top of the counter, not even your Sharpie. Wipe the pastry case's exterior with glass cleaner and replenish what is needed in the pastry area."

You nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Well? What're you waiting for, Christmas? Go!" He said and you hurriedly did what you were told.

"Daesung, replenish what is needed in the production station, clean them, replenish the milk in the fridge, and for god's sake replenish the beans!" He said and Daesung immediately did that.

"Taeyang, you've always been really quick at lobby duty. You know what to do." Ji-Yong said coolly.

Taeyang nodded, "Yes, sir. Clear the tables, sweep the floor, mop the floor, and throw the trash."

"Good job, now, go." Ji-Yong said as walked to the back office. "I'll make the sign now and once you're all done, remove your aprons and put it in your lockers, wash your hands, and get settled on the table. I will join you shortly."

When all of you were done, you all watched as Ji-Yong taped a sign that said: "BARISTAS ON BREAK. COME BACK AFTER ONE HOUR."

Just as he placed it there, a delivery boy came and Ji-Yong immediately paid the guy as he got the food. Ji-Yong locked the door and made his way towards you with a big smile.

You all decided to share a table because it made no sense to separate. He sat next to you and he distributed all your food.

"Thanks, Ji." Taeyang said as he took a bite.

"Thank you." You and Daesung said at the same time. You all ate in silence when Ji-Yong asked, "Just wondering, how am I doing so far? Y'know, as the manager for today's shift?"

"Ji, you're very skilled." Taeyang started. "You wouldn't be running our shift today if you weren't. You're doing great. I'm actually pretty glad that you're not like our manager. I mean, she's nice and all, but she just stays in the back office the whole day until she decided it's time for her to go home. You stuck with us and ran the shift effectively as you see fit."

"You were quite scary." Daesung admitted. Taeyang chuckled at his confession and Ji-Yong laughed.

"Daesung, I'm only scary when I need to be. I can't be your buddy-buddy barista forever. I'm on manager training now. There are boundaries I have to put if I want our shift to be smooth. However, I'm still your friend and you can still count on me if you make a mistake and want to keep it a secret." Ji-Yong said with a real smile. He turned to look at you, "My wonderful and beautiful trainee... how did I do?"

"You're a natural born leader, that's for sure. I agree with Daesung; you're quite scary, but now I understand why." You said.

"Thanks, guys." Ji-Yong grinned.

After lunch break was over and your table was cleared, Ji-Yong waited for all of you to settle in your stations before removing the signage he put. To his surprise, a long line was waiting. He turned to all of you and said, "Long line again! Be your best selves. Our goal for this part of the shift is to not get a complaint about behavior and attitude. We all just ate, so we have all the energy." He turned to face the customers waiting as he unlocked the door. Immediately, people came in.

Time passed and it was now near closing time. Taeyang was already on his planted position in the lobby area. He was spraying unoccupied tables, wiping them down, and flipping the chairs. Daesung was already cleaning one of the espresso machines and he already shut off one of the blenders in the station behind him. Ji-Yong was removing the empty plates inside the pastry case and removing the signages of food that isn't there anymore. You were transacting the last customer of the day.

"I'd like 5 of your ice blended mocha with 5 additional pumps of salted caramel syrup on each. I'd also like 6 slices of your cheesecake and 5 cookies." Your customer said with a vibe you didn't like. This customer was so full of it. Ji-Yong and Daesung didn't start preparing anything because you didn't endorse anything yet.

"Um, sorry to ask, what size will you be getting for the ice blended mocha?" You asked nicely.

"Ugh, are you stupid? I said large!"

You swallowed the lump on your throat and asked, "As for your food, um, you never clarified what kind of cheesecake and cookies you wanted. For the cheesecake, we have New York cheesecake, blueberry cheesecake, and cookies and cream cheesecake. For the cookies, we have chocolate chip cookies, red velvet cookies, and oatmeal cookies."

"What did I say earlier? I said cheesecake, right? Which means it's plain. It also means that I meant it's the New York cheesecake. As for the cookies, are you really THAT dumb? What's the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word, 'cookie'?? It's obviously chocolate chip. Can you stop being dumb?!" The customer shouted.

The other customers looked up in shock, even Taeyang stopped mopping the floor. Daesung put a hand on his mouth, not knowing what to say. And Ji-Yong? Well, he's had enough. You were his trainee and you happen to be his work crush. No one treats his trainee and work crush like that. He looked up from what he was doing and coolly walked towards you.

"What's going on?" He asked sternly.

"This cashier girl is stupid! She-"

"I heard you the first time. What I meant to ask was, what's going on and why's your underwear in a twist, huh? You think shouting at people who work in customer service is good? You think so highly of yourself, is that it?" Ji-Yong asked with a raised eyebrow.

"She's my trainee and people I've trained are not stupid. Every barista you see on duty right now, I've trained. They turned out fine. She's just doing her job like I taught her how to. I heard everything. You never said the size you want for your drink, you never said what kind of cheesecake you want, and you never said what cookie you want."

"I'm a regular here! She should know my order by heart!"

"I've been working here for 5 years. I've never seen you before. If I have seen you before, I would know because I would've warned everyone here about your shitty attitude, so don't come here pretending like you own the place because you don't. If the barista says you're not being clear, then you're not being clear. How are we supposed to do anything right, if you can't order properly?" Ji-Yong argued. He wasn't holding back at all.

You looked at him. His veins were popping on his neck and his forehead. Oh, he was MAD.

"How dare you talk to a customer like that?! Where's your manager??"

Ji-Yong smirked, "That would be me."

The customer looked in horror and said, "I'm leaving! I don't want to order anymore!"

"Good! We don't need a customer like you. You're the only customer with many demands that aren't clear. So, yes, do us a favor and go home." Ji-Yong said with a proud look on his face. The customer scoffed and left.

-

As Ji-Yong double checked all the stations, all three of you were outside of the cafe, waiting for him.

"That customer was intense, no?" Taeyang said. Daesung nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I thought the customer would bite your head off, Y/N. I mean, thank god Ji-Yong was there to speak."

"He's always had a smart mouth." Taeyang snickered. "I wouldn't put it past him to do shit like that, especially if he's going to be a manager now."

"He was so quiet in the back office. It was weird. I mean, thank goodness the dishwasher made white noise. Otherwise, I'd go insane." You said. You closed the backroom area and you'd glance at Ji-Yong from time to time. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he typed away on the store's computer.

When Ji-Yong was done checking the stations, he closed the air conditioner and the lights before exiting the store. He looked surprised, "Oh, I thought you guys left me already."

"Ji-Yong, you bought us lunch and became our star barista of the day. Of course we'll wait for you." Daesung said with a smile. He's always so positive and joyful.

Ji-Yong's cheeks flushed in a pink color when Daesung mentioned that he was a 'star barista'. He smiled to himself as he locked the door of the cafe. "If you guys want to leave already, you can go now." He said. He looked at the three of you, "Thanks for trusting me today. I hope I didn't let you down. I'm very open to feedback and if you have some feedback for me, well, don't hesitate to send me a message. It's been a pleasure manning our shift."

You all thanked each other and just like that, Daesung and Taeyang left. He looked at you expectantly and asked, "Aren't you leaving?"

"Well, I just wanted to thank you for standing up for me back there." You said in a small voice, afraid that if you spoke louder, you'd cry. His face softened and pulled you in for a hug.

"Aww, it's no problem." He pulled away and looked at you as your tears start clouding your eyes. "You're not stupid because if you're stupid, then you're trainer's stupid. Lucky for you, I'm your trainer and I'm not stupid." He playfully winked, making you chuckle.

"You did great today at the register. I half expected you to cry. I was ready for you and Taeyang to switch places and I know he can transact customers 10x faster than you." He confessed.

"Well, why didn't you?" You questioned.

He shrugged and gave you a boyish grin, "I believed in you. If you trusted me enough to know that I won't fail you as your trainer, I should also trust you not to fail me as your manager. This is a give and take thing, Y/N. Just like how you trust Daesung to make drinks correctly or how you trust Taeyang to give the customers their orders correctly. So, don't be so hard on yourself especially when you're still getting the hang of it. You'll get there eventually."

You nodded, speechless by his encouraging words. "Thank you, Ji-Yong... for everything. I'm learning a lot from you."

"I'll be absolutely terrified if you don't learn anything from me." He laughed. "I'll walk you home. It's not safe to walk this late. Which way are you going?"

You pointed in the direction you usually walk on and he nodded, "Oh, I use the same route too. Where do you live?"

"I live in the apartment nearby, actually."

"...Is your apartment building beige with a random blotch of blue paint?"

"Yes... how did you know?" You eyed him suspiciously as you both started walking.

"Two reasons. One: it's a weird design and two: I live there too." He laughed. "What a coincidence."

"Wow, it's like I can't escape work." You joked, causing him to laugh really hard.

"Wow, and she jokes!" He laughed, kicking a random pebble. "You really are something, Y/N."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I like you, Y/N."

You stopped in your tracks and he stopped too. Neither of you looked at each other.

"Um, sorry for saying it like that. I just-"

"Well, that's that me espresso." You shrugged and continued walking. He chuckled and jogged a little bit to catch up with you.

"What was that?" He chuckled.

"I just mean that you liked me for me, I assume. So, that's that me espresso." You giggled. "I will admit that it does sound silly, but it makes sense to me."

He smiled, "So, would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Isn't it bad to date your co-workers?" You questioned, both of you entering the apartment building.

"Lucky for you, I won't be your co-worker for long." He trailed off sadly. "No one else knows this yet except our manager, but I've submitted my two-week notice three days ago. I got a job offer to be a manager at a bigger cafe and the pay's better."

"Well, in that case, I'll be sad to see my trainer go, but I'll be happy very happy to see you when we're going on dates." You flirted as you pressed the elevator button.

He stared at you in surprise and exclaimed, "So, is that a yes?!"

You shrugged, "I don't have a trainer that's stupid."

"Wow, using my words against me." He laughed. The elevator doors opened and both of you entered. He watched as you pressed the floor number you're going to and said, "I'll take you out when I'm not working at the cafe anymore."

"That sounds fine to me."

"In the meantime, can I call and text you?"

"Ji-Yong, we live in the same apartment building." You snickered. The elevator dinged. Both of you got off on your floor and walked to your door. "You know exactly where I live. You can just come over."

"Yeah, I know. It's just that I want to start off on a good note... preferably, not when I'm your superior. That's not going to look good, especially on me."

You pulled out your keys, unlocked your door, and hummed. "Okay. We can call and text, but since you want to start off on a good note, maybe we can call and text as friends? Y'know, just until you're settled in your new fancy schmancy bigger and better cafe."

"Sure." He laughed. "It's been a pleasure to walk you home, beautiful. Good night, Y/N." He took your hand and kissed it before dropping it gently.

"That's not very friendly." You smirked.

"I know. I just wanted to give you something to remember me by in hopes that you'll miss me tonight." He winked before walking away. "Good night again, Y/N." He called out.

"Good night, Ji-Yong." You smiled to yourself before entering your apartment.

-

A/N: this took me two days to write holy shit WAHAHAHAHAHA lmk if you want to be in a GD taglist! 🤍

[seellove]

Counterfeit Shrines // sukuna x female reader

Masterlist

Chapter 4 - Playing with Fire is Such a Cliche // (6.0k words) // 18+

\|/ AO3 - Chapter 4 | << Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 >>

You're a late bloomer when it comes to cursed energy, entering Tokyo Jujutsu High partway through the 4th year on the support student track. Because of this, you get paired with the only combat track sorcerer without a partner for obvious reasons, Ryomen Sukuna. He's had a tragic upbringing as a human that is part curse with dark expectations for how to live his life. However, after meeting you, he slowly starts to see the possibility of a different path with someone he might love.

Content Tags/Warnings Throughout Work: Reader and Sukuna are Jujutsu Sorcerers in a JJK AU, explicit smut, violence/blood/injury, dubious consent, dubious morality, drug and alcohol use, falling in love, angst, comfort, fluff, happy ending

You were starting to fall into a routine in your new home, finally feeling settled and comfortable with your new life. You and Shoko would go to the cafeteria every morning, then walk to your classes together. Some days Geto and Gojo would join you both, but a lot of times they were away on missions. 

You and Sukuna would meet up to work on your project some nights along with homework from your shared classes. He was often away as well, so you’d make the most of the time together to divide the workload. This caused his harem of fan girls to give you angry looks at times, in their eyes you were taking him away from their time with him. As if you had any say in this, you two had been partnered up against both your wills.

You had been cleared to go back to your combat sessions a few weeks after your hospital stay. That afternoon you and Shoko make your way to the training grounds after lunch. She is complaining about the chemistry test you had just gotten grades back on. 

“I don’t even know why we need to learn this shit if we are just going to be sorcerers,” she groans. 

“If you want to be a jujutsu doctor, chemistry is important to know!” you tease back. She pushes you jokingly in response. You both take a seat in the bleachers, continuing to bicker as friends do.

“Alright partner, I'm ready when you are,” you jump as you hear Sukunas deep voice behind you. Where the hell did he come from?

“What’s up stranger,” you respond. To his annoyance you’d been referring to him as that since the day you started the history project. You took great pride in annoying him, pissing him off greatly when you made fun of him instead of matching his angry energy. Seeing him get all butthurt was entertaining and worth it though.

“She just got back to normal, don’t go being a hard ass again,” Shoko growls at him. 

“Relax, she’ll be fine,” he waves her off. He leaps off the bleachers and stands beside you as you finish lacing your shoes. He leads the way to the far corner of the training grounds near the forest. 

“Can you hold my water bottle for a second, I need to put my hair up,” you say as you walk together. He puts his hand out to take the bottle while you pull your hair up into a messy bun. 

“How’d you do on the test?” he breaks the silence.

“Got an 88, I made some silly mistakes.”

“Ha I beat you this time, 97.”

Your competitive side causes you to respond with an annoyed huff, but deep down you aren’t mad. He’s smart so if there’s someone you’d rather lose to, it was him. All the more reason to do better next time. 

“Gonna have to try harder next time sweetheart,” he teases you, throwing your bottle back at you unexpectedly. 

“Excuse me? Sweetheart?” your voice rises as you throw the bottle back at him, making him leap to the side to avoid the projectile. 

“I said what I said,” he turns around and walks backwards, tauntingly looking at you with his hands behind his head. “Also I’m not getting that,” he gestures towards the bottle now laying out in the field.

“God you are so annoying,” you stomp away to retrieve your water.

“You flatter me so much, thinking I’m a god now,” he chuckles.

You look at him and shake your head, but you can’t help emitting a giggle of your own, trying to fight back a smile. You make your way back over to him. 

“Let’s sit,” he states as he lowers himself to the grass, patting the ground next to him. You follow suit, adjusting yourself to face him. “What kind of training have you had with cursed energy?”

You take a moment to think. You hadn’t been able to detect or manipulate it until the spring of this year. You realized it when you were walking home from school one day and saw a terrifying creature that it seemed no one else could see. You had freaked out, tearing up a sidewalk in the process of it all. After telling your dad, he showed you how to sense it in the earth and push it through voids, but you didn’t truly know how it all worked. 

You explain this to Sukuna who has a very serious expression on his face, absorbing every word of your explanation. 

He shifts to rest his elbow on his knee, his face leaning into his palm. “Hmm, I see. Well the first goal I have for you is to incorporate your cursed energy into your martial arts. But to do that, you need to master distributing it throughout your body.”

He holds up his hand in front of you. “Put your hand against mine.”

You press your palm against his, noticing the huge size difference between you and him. His fingers could fold over yours if he wanted. Suddenly you sense heat in his palm and feel it coursing through his fingers, almost like water being sucked through a tube. 

“You’re controlling this all on your own?” you ask in awe. 

“Yes, I'm taking the source of my energy in my chest and directing it to my hand. Think of it as a pump, pushing the energy through the voids in your body to where you need it. You can use this to enhance physical moves like punching and kicking. It’s the simplest way of using cursed energy for combat,” he explains. 

“First I want you to focus on your chest, I want you to become aware of the source, actually recognize how it feels when it flows through your chest and surrounding areas. I can sense where it is in your body, so I’ll help you feel it out.”

You close your eyes and focus your senses inward, trying to feel a glimpse of the heat you felt in Sukuna’s hand. You think you feel it, it reminds you of being in the shower, feeling water run over your skin except it feels like it's flowing under your skin. 

“I think I feel it, it feels like water flowing inside of me, like a whirlpool in my chest.” 

“Point to me where you feel it.”

You point to a spot just below your breast between your ribs.

“Yep, I can sense it there. Now try to direct it to your stomach area, it should be a combination of pushing it from your chest while pulling it to your stomach. Think of it like a combination of a pump and a siphon.”

You struggle to do this, feeling like the energy is just ricocheting off your ribs and surrounding area. It gives you a feeling like heartburn.

Sukuna can sense your energy beating up your innards. “Stop for a moment, let me demonstrate,” he says shortly as he suddenly pulls his shirt off and tosses it on the ground. 

You have been trying to take this seriously, but you are a woman who appreciates a sculpted man at the end of the day, and boy was there one right in front of you. Tattoos emerge from his shoulders and wind over his chest down to his waist, disappearing to what lies below. His muscular chest and rippling abs accentuate them even more, the sharp ridges making your core clench for a second. Chiseled V lines disappear into the waistband of his pants which are dangerously low on his hips. 

Oh lord, he’s fucking hot, because of course he is. You can’t deny this as you feel your body flush and swallow deeply, trying to ground yourself. 

“As much as I appreciate you eye fucking me right now, I do actually want to finish this lesson,” he laughs smugly. He abruptly reaches for your hand, yanking it towards him and placing it on his chest. You feel light headed, forgetting to breathe momentarily, the world almost dimming around your peripheral.

Pull yourself together dammit. How could you expect to be a decent sorcerer if you are so easily weak in the knees. 

You feel his rock hard body below your hand, but you also can sense the swirling heat inside. It feels very controlled though, unlike the chaos you felt within you. Your heart is pounding, can he hear it? Can he feel it through your hand? 

“You feel that right?” he snaps you back to reality.

“Ye-yes, I can feel it flowing, counterclockwise?”

“Correct,” he moves your hand to his upper abs now. You are convinced you are going to just die right here, you are going to stop breathing altogether and just forget to replenish the oxygen. You can feel the energy flowing down his body towards his stomach, sensing a sucking motion pulling the energy down while his chest pulses, pushing the heat south.

“Oh I do feel it,” you murmur, concentrating on the feeling. “I think I can do that-“

“What the fuck are you all doing??” a shrieking voice jolts you out of your trance, startling you. “Get your hands off of him you whore.”

You turn to the side and see a girl in all black and black hair storming towards you both. Her face is contorted in anger, the rage emanating off her in waves. 

“It’s not what it looks like! I was trying to feel his energy, wait, are you his girlfriend? I’m so sorry!” you stumble over your words, putting your hands at your side and jumping away from Sukuna. 

“No Yorozu is absolutely not my girlfriend, just a girl I fuck,” his voice dripping in anger and disgust as he side eyes her. 

“Don’t you dare!” Yorozu yells back, “we are exclusive, you said so the other night.”

“Psh, and you believed that?” he responds in a mocking tone. 

“What is this about being exclusive with her,” another voice yells from behind you. It’s Kiko, the blond you recognized from your first day. “And why did you have your filthy hands all over him?” She points at you, her eyes shooting daggers. 

What the actual fuck, you think to yourself. You did not want to get in the middle of whatever this is. 

“I’m just trying to learn about cursed energy, I don’t want anything to do with Sukuna in that way,” you shout at them, trying to make yourself heard.

“Please, I’m already aware you are nothing to him,” Kiko harshly says to you. “Yorozu, quit being a homewrecker.”

“I’ll be over here practicing,” you look at Sukuna, not bothering to wait for a response, your main goal to get the fuck away from this love triangle. You move closer to the trees, intent on practicing channeling the cursed energy through your body, using your hands as a guide similar to what you and Sukuna were doing. 

You can’t help but overhear Yorozu, Kiko, and Sukuna arguing. Well it was more so the girls shouting over each other with Sukuna just standing there with his hands in his pockets. What was so special about him that had these girls acting insane over him, especially when he seemed to treat them poorly. Must have out of this world dick game, you laugh to yourself. 

You feel yourself succeeding with your practice when you see Sukuna reappear, now alone, and no longer shirtless. He doesn’t say anything, just observes you. You can now get cursed energy to flow controlled into your hands and to your waistline. You are tired though, not realizing how it takes a toll on you both mentally and physically. 

“Why don’t you take a break,” he finally breaks the silence. You nod and join him as he sits on the ground, obviously moody now. He fidgets with the grass, twisting his finger around and ripping blades out of the ground. 

“You sure do have a way with the ladies,” you tease him. “One girlfriend is hard enough, let alone two.” 

He smirks, still staring at the grass, “I’m not committed to anyone, I make that very clear to them and anyone I sleep with.” 

Your mind wanders, imagining him sleeping with multiple girls, surely there are more than just these two. “Do you like one more than the other?”

“I don’t like either of them. They fulfill a need and that’s it. If they disappeared tomorrow I wouldn’t care,” he bluntly responds. 

You are taken aback by the harshness. You know that’s just how some guys are, but it’s different hearing it said out loud. “Do you think you’ll ever find someone you would want to be committed to?” 

“I guess eventually, I have never really considered it. I have a certain standard of what I’d want in a partner, sex is just one facet of that, important but not that high on the list.”

“Mhmm,” you hum in response. “Well what I was going to say was that I am not trying to insert myself into…whatever that all was, I value you as a friend and mentor, and am not trying to negatively affect your love life. But I guess it's not very much reciprocated by you,” you chuckle.

He perks up at your words, “Oh, have I graduated from being a stranger?” 

You laugh as you return his gaze. “Yeah I think you have, I’ll get you a cap and gown. Might not fit on your massive ass head though.”

He crinkles his brow in annoyance at your comment as he stands up, holding out his hands as a signal to pull you up. 

“Food?”

“Yes please!” 

***

You and Sukuna have never done anything that isn’t school related alone together. You recognized and valued his intelligence, so you preferred to do school work together. While chatting happened, it was usually short lived to focus on the task at hand whether it be studying, tag teaming homework assignments, or working on your group projects. Most interactions consisted of him making rude jabs at you while you would mock and tease him much to his annoyance. 

There was a sense of comfort though when you were around him. Like you knew what you were getting and you didn’t need to worry about his intentions. His bluntness was refreshing in a way compared to your previous school where someone could get along with you one day but hate you the next, for no apparent reason.

Eating together however was a new activity. It didn’t constrain the conversation, there were no math problems or cursed energy manipulation to hide behind. You two would either converse, or sit in silence. How and what you talked about would be up to you and Sukuna. 

You weren’t embarrassed to be seen with him, it was no secret to your friends that you two would work together, and he was your combat partner after all. Shoko would egg you on about becoming his next fangirl, but you would shut it down by saying you were friends with a common goal, and nothing more. 

Sukuna and you drop your bags off in your rooms and make your way to the dining hall. You see him texting on his phone, a twinge of annoyance on his face. That’s nothing out of the ordinary for him though. His face might permanently be that way with the consistent scowl he seemed to display.

He speeds through the line, already knowing what he wants to eat while you linger longer to scope out the options. 

“I’m going sit, don’t take too long,” he says gruffly as you wave him off. You decide on a chicken salad with a side of fish and rice. You definitely eat a lot more here compared to the past, as using cursed energy wrecks your body. Scanning the room, you spot the top of his pink head and neck tattoos peeking out of his shirt.

Placing your tray across from him, you go to grab a drink. You love the selection of fruit sodas and decide on a peach flavor today. 

Sukuna makes a face as you place the drink down, “you would drink that.”

“What does that even mean Sukuna? Hating on random drinks now?”

“Yeah I am, that shit is trash.”

You take a big gulp and let out a dramatic sigh, “well good thing you don’t have to drink it. Just drink your milk like a child.”

“Milk is not childish, brat. It builds strong bones. Maybe you should drink more of it considering you broke your hand on my face.” 

“Tch,” you roll your eyes, not giving a response. 

“Do you have any siblings?” Sukuna abruptly changes the topic.

“Yes, I have a younger brother and sister. They are elementary school age. What about you?” 

“I have a younger brother, different dads though.”

Swallowing a spoonful of rice, his words perk your interest. 

“Oh what’s your brother like?” you question, being nosey now. It's the first you’ve ever heard about his personal life.

He points across the room to a table with a black haired boy and brunette girl with a bob. “Those are his friends, not sure where he is now, but he has pink hair like me. He’s a first year student.” 

“Oh cool, that must be nice for him to have an older sibling here.”

“Psh he’s too soft. Needs to toughen up if he wants to be a good sorcerer.”

“You can be a good sorcerer and not be an asshole,” you retort. 

“It’s better to not have feelings and attachments though. Makes it easier to focus on your goals without stupid distractions.” 

“So what are your goals?”

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Well I do have goals that are personal to myself, but what I can share is that I want to be the strongest, a master in understanding and wielding cursed energy.” 

Your eyes widen a little. “Goals personal to you huh? What does that mean?”

“It means you don’t need to know the details,” he snaps back. 

His vague answers leave you feeling a little uneasy, but you decide to let it go for now. “Are your parents sorcerers?”

“My dad is. He taught me everything and has been training me since before I can remember.” 

“Sounds like a tough childhood. I spent most of my time just playing sports, exploring the neighborhood with friends, typical kid things.”

“Sounds incredibly lame,” He says dryly, looking bored. 

“What do you do for fun that doesn’t revolve around jujutsu?”

“Well I do like video games, reading, watching food shows and trying new foods, fucking-“

You practically spit out your drink at his vulgar answer. He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his eye, “what’s wrong? Do you not like it?”

You feel your face flush. You’ve never done more than kissing and feeling up with your ex, and you would not be able to handle having a conversation like this with Sukuna of all people. 

“I think it’s fine, just not something I expect to hear in a conversation in the cafeteria. Are you just trying to get a rise out of me?”  

“Maybe, it seems to be working. So who are you fucking around here?” He challenges you, placing one elbow on the table and resting his head on it. He seems very engaged in the conversation now, reveling in your discomfort.

Shit what should you say? You know next to nothing about sex, so he’ll know if you’re lying, but you don’t want to give him a reason to ridicule you. Fuck it, you’ll be honest, if he makes fun of you for it, that’s his problem. You are a grown woman and confident in your choices after all. 

“Nobody, doesn’t really align with my goals right now,” you meet his gaze, awaiting his response. 

His grin cocks to one side, nodding his head slightly, “hmph, interesting.” 

You are shocked he doesn’t push the issue, “that’s all you have to say? I was expecting something more on brand from you.”

“I respect your convictions, even if they might not be for me,” he shrugs. 

“Well thanks for not roasting me for once,” you laugh. 

“I’m sure I’ll make up for it later,” he says with a mischievous look. 

You both finish eating and linger for a little longer, engaged in a heated debate on the best super smash bros character.

“Well we will just have to put it to the test and play with each other sometime,” you laugh. 

“Sometimes there are tournaments in the dorm common area,” he says.

“Oh so you want to lose in front of a crowd?”

“Please brat, being delusional isn’t a good look.”

***

A week passes and you can now consistently control your cursed energy throughout your body.

“Let’s try some sparring now,” Sukuna announces to you as you sit on the ground. He’s looming over you, his massive figure shielding you from the sun.

“Okay don’t send me to the hospital again,” you retort, only half kidding.

“I’m not going to do that, can you all just let it go?” he snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“No I can’t, you literally broke my ribs and punctured my lung.” 

“Quit whining brat, you got over it.”

You stand up now and look at him expectantly, awaiting further instruction. “Ok so how are we doing this?”

“You come at me like you while channeling cursed energy into your blows. I’ll block and dodge only. Oh, and come at me with the intent to kill, it’s the only way you’ll stand a chance,” he grins as he bends his legs, standing on the balls of his feet.

“So confident aren’t you,” you roll your eyes at him. You start to walk away from him, creating some distance. 

“Yeah I am, you have no idea what I’m capable of,” he says coldly. You briefly wonder what he means by that, feeling a little intimidated, but you quickly come back to the task at hand. All you can do is trust him to not hurt you again.

You channel cursed energy into your feet, propelling yourself at him at increased speed. You wind up, powering up your fist, and swing at Sukuna. He lifts his hand up, letting his palm absorb the impact. He makes a face, brows lifting in surprise. 

“Damn that was a nice one, more like that,” he looks on excitedly, lips curling into a smile. 

“Can I use my technique,” you ask as you attempt to swing a kick at his lower legs, your hands planted on the ground as you lash out towards him. He jumps over the move and you quickly deliver a blow to his stomach, catching him off guard. 

“Yes, I said to come at me to kill.” He rubs his stomach after the impact from your hit. You felt him move cursed energy to that spot just before impact to block the hit.

You channel energy to your hands and quickly push it through the earth, trying to grab onto his feet. You notice it feels a lot easier now, as it’s similar to pushing the energy through your body. 

You quickly continue sending cursed energy through the earth as you sprint at him again. You both spar with hand to hand combat, Sukuna dodging and blocking all hits, not trying to land any on you. You pull the cursed energy towards you that you sent into the earth and lock onto his feet, immobilizing him enough to land a kick on his shins, releasing him from your technique.

He hisses through his teeth at the impact, not able to hide that you did cause a bit of pain. You continue your sparring until you wave the white flag, flopping onto the ground in exhaustion and a slight headache from all the cursed energy manipulation. 

Sukuna stands over you, not even breaking a sweat. He drops your water bottle next to you and sits down at your side.

“I think you are ready for missions,” he announces to you. 

“Oh I forgot about that,” you stare wide eyed as fear settles over you. 

“Yeah, you have to apply what you learn brat. Combat students are supposed to take support students on 2 to 3 missions a month. They are for very low grade curses though, nothing to worry about. Plus I’ll be there.”

“What grade are you?” you question him. You hadn’t actually seen him try very hard yet.

“Grade 1. I’m the strongest, brat, believe me. I won’t let anything happen to you,” you see his eyes soften and you know he means it. You relax a little. 

“When do we go?”

“Probably tomorrow,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Tomorrow??” you exclaim, “that’s like no notice.”

He chuckles and crosses his arms, “Do you think curses just wait to appear when it’s convenient for you?”

“Shut up no that’s not what I meant,” you huff as he looks at you, amusement in his eyes. 

He begins walking away from you back towards the campus buildings. You rush to catch up, falling into step with him. 

“What do I need to do to prepare for the mission?” 

“You’ll need an overnight bag for sure. Other than that you don’t really need to do anything. We will get driven to the site and we just get out the car and exorcise the curses. Then the driver will take us to a hotel or inn for the night, then we come back the following day.” 

“Do we all get separate rooms,” you blush at the idea of sharing a room with Sukuna.

He snickers at your question, “yes we will be in separate rooms. Nothing is stopping you from letting me in yours and vice versa.”

“Ha ha good to know,” you laugh fakely. That doesn’t last long though as you find yourself face first in the dirt after Sukuna trips you.

“Watch your step brat,” he has his hand over his mouth trying to suppress his laughter. 

“You are insufferable,” you yell at him. Thankfully you two are the last ones out here, so no embarrassing moments for the whole class to see. 

He keeps walking and stops to wait for you against a tall decorative brick wall that lines the walkway back to the campus. Dusk is rapidly approaching with the days getting shorter. Crickets had begun to chirp, signaling the sun going down. 

You catch up to him again and find him leaning against the wall. You stop in front of him, waiting for him to keep walking. Instead he licks his thumb and presses it against your cheek. “Got some dirt on you here,” he teases.

“Hmm wonder how that happened,” you try to wince away, but his fingers squeeze your cheek, not letting you move.

He rubs small circles on your cheek. They become gentler and you feel the backs of his fingers graze along your jawbone, trailing along your skin until they stop to rest on the back of your neck. Your breath hitches and goosebumps run down your arms at his touch. Your eyes dart around nervously as his fingertips push down firmly on the back of your neck, beckoning you closer to him. You can smell his cologne mixed with musk, a result of you both sparring for hours. He moves his hands to rest on your hips, guiding you so now your back is now against the wall, the sharp points of the brick digging into your spine. 

Your heart is racing now, feeling like it is going to spring out of your chest. Your lips part slightly as you look up at him, he looks ethereal in the dim light. The glow of his eyes give him the look of a predator looking down at his prey. 

Sukuna leans one hand against the wall above your shoulder as he lowers himself to your face. His eyes are half lidded and their usual blazing red begins to darken. His other hand comes to rest on your hip, pulling your body flush with his.

His face hovers in front of yours and it feels like an eternity. You want to close the gap between you, but you hesitate as nervousness sets in. Your eyes look down at his lips, then back up to his gaze. They are gorgeous, morphing into a deep red like hot coals as the tension intensifies.

Fuck it, you finally decide. You loosen your jaw and close the distance between you, your lips landing on his. Your mouth doesn’t move at first, body practically in shock at what you just did. The world is suspended temporarily as you dissociate from yourself, a dizzy feeling starting to consume you. You slowly start to regain feeling in your body, noticing his soft lips, the harsh grip on your hips, and the soft brush of his nose against yours. His lips are softer than you expected given his rough demeanor.

Sukuna’s tongue runs along your bottom lip, which causes you to part yours in surprise. He takes this opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips, meeting yours as he groans into your mouth. Your noses brush against each other clumsily as you figure out each other's rhythm. 

He nibbles at your lip, coaxing your tongue back into his mouth. You wrap your arms around his neck for support, threading your fingers through his fluffy hair. He tilts his head, allowing you to probe deeper into his mouth, exploring the inside of his cheek as he rolls his tongue against yours. He hums, lowering his hands to grip your ass, pushing his body against yours until you are pinned against the wall. You can hear nothing but the symphony of crickets in the twilight and the wet sounds of his lips on yours. 

You break the kiss, desperate for air, making a popping sound as your lips disconnect from his. Your breaths come in gasps as you try to steady your breathing again, coming back down from your high. He presses his forehead against yours, eagerly awaiting your lips on his again. 

“You kissed me,” you say in a bewildered voice. You almost can’t believe it. It’s something you truly never thought would happen, even though you have fantasized about doing worse with him before. 

He smirks at you with lidded eyes, his voice a low rumble, “technically you kissed me brat.”

“Whatever.” You attack his lips again with more force than the last. He matches your energy with a hunger you weren’t expecting, forcing himself back into your mouth, finding the insides of your teeth and sucking your tongue, eliciting a sharp moan from you. You push your hands beneath his shirt, hands running along his abs. The ridges and dips of his muscles are apparent, squeezing them with your nails as you grasp onto him, attempting to ground yourself. 

You can feel him hard against you, throbbing with your every moan he captures in his mouth, clearly enjoying this just as much as you. He pulls back this time, staring deeply into your eyes. His crimson gaze is intense with hunger, almost like he could devour you on the spot. You blush profusely, and emit an awkward giggle.  

“Did you like that?” Sukuna’s husky voice asks as he tries to not so discreetly adjust himself in his pants. 

“Mhmm yes, you’re a good kisser,” you stumble over your words. Why would you say he’s a good kisser? You cringe realizing your brain short circuited in its recovery from the intimate moment.

“Hmph,” he hums, feeling smug. You both tidy up your clothes and hair, attempting to hide the evidence of the heated make out session you had just partaken in. 

He leads you back to the dorms in silence, both of you not daring to speak as he walks you to your room. “I’ll text you the info for the mission either tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Ok sounds good,” you unlock your door and push it open. You look back at him, your eyes locking with his longing gaze, “good night Sukuna.”

He swallows hard as he stares back at you, his mouth forming a tight line, “night.”

You close the door as he walks away, the mirror on the wall revealing a massive grin plastered on your face. He’s an asshole. A hot asshole who wanted his tongue down your throat. Probably a one time thing, but then again, playing with fire is such a cliche when you’re willing to get burned.

Sukuna POV

I make a beeline back to my room, trying to hide the bulge in my pants I’d failed miserably at subduing. My pants are so damn uncomfortable, constricting my cock which is desperate to be freed. I fumble for my keys and finally unlock the door, slamming it behind me. I know if I don’t take care of this I won’t be able to focus the rest of the evening.

Entering the bathroom, I turn the shower on to warm up the water and strip my clothes off. My hand immediately palms the thick head of my cock and as I groan with relief at the friction I was so desperate for. What am I even doing? So gone off of a kiss and nothing more.

It was so hard to stop with you earlier, I wanted to take you against that wall and fuck you senseless. I step into the shower and lean against the wall, water running in rivulets over the contours of my muscles. Stroking my full length now, my mind goes back to you and that wall. Pre cum spills from my thick tip, giving me extra slick to pump my shaft. The image of holding you up, legs locked around my waist as I drill into you, stuttering my name between moans has my dick throbbing as I imagine burying it inside you again and again.

My grip tightens around my shaft, pumping faster now as you shatter beneath me, your walls gripping me so snugly. I lean my head back against the shower wall, my hand sliding up and down my hardened length with urgency as I feel the orgasm looming. The final image of you crying my name as I fuck you through your climax pushes me over the edge. I groan loudly, eyes shut tight and body tensing up as spurts of cum begin to coat the wall of the shower. 

As the waves of pleasure finally cease, I open my eyes and sink to the floor, not caring that the water is now pelting me in the face. Allowing myself a few minutes to come back to earth, I can’t recall the last time I came so hard from jerking off. Finally I stand back up and quickly finish washing my hair and body. 

I stride across the room to my computer to check mission assignments. As a grade 1 sorcerer, I check the website multiple times a day to see if anything perks my interest. This time though, I filter by low grade assignments for your first mission. 

An abandoned home in a neighborhood 3 hours away is reportedly haunted according to kids breaking in. Grade 4 max. Sounds perfect for you. I mark it taken and type both of our names in, noting it as support training. Looks like the driver will pick up at 9 AM tomorrow. 

Me: we leave at 9AM tomorrow. Plan to eat before we leave. I’ll meet you out front beforehand.

You: Okay sounds good. Anything specific to pack?

Me: a change of clothes for afterwards is a good idea, fighting curses can be messy. 

You: got it. Well cya tomorrow, have a good night! 

I close the computer and flop onto the bed, a twinge of excitement coming over me. I honestly can’t remember the last time I kissed someone and that was it, but for some reason I can’t get it out of my head now. I get back up and fish out the half open bottle of whiskey from under my bed. Hopefully that can help calm me down and get some rest.

<< Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 >>

Masterlist

[immortalsins]

ough the way my friend in my house was insisting that it's best to go to a beach in another city along the coast (to celebrate another friend's birthday) but five of us could go in her car and one would have to take the (expensive, long) train alone (with beach stuff), instead of just going to the smaller but closer beach that we can all get to on the bus together. she stood there and said 'we'll get to the beach quicker in my car than all on the bus' ok five of us will. and the other will not. but that doesn't matter to her

[ssreeder]

Ollo! I was tagged by @transboysokka to post my last line written! thank you!

I am in the midst of editing the last part of the next chapter of ITF, so this is just randomly in there somewhere but it was the last line I tinkered with:

Jee found it endearing how he felt the need to share his joy with Zuko, and Jee was astounded by how patient and docile Zuko was with the other boy.

(as you can probably tell we have successfully made it to the market, and Sokka is happy)

I don’t know who to tag so… @erisenyo (i know youve been tagged but I know youve got more lines to share lol) @witchering10123 @y-s-t-v @somethingfoamy & reverse tag @transboysokka your turn, & anyone else who wants to play!

[crossbackpoke-check]

tagged by ko @tofumilanesa for wip wednesday! big shout out to writevember for making me feel like i can actually call any of these works in progress… your guide to my emoji code under the cut

wip!

🪻🐈‍⬛ - the doc title is still just. YOWLING but i am like 7/8 of the way done with omega yamo fic and hopefully salem isn’t reading this so i can just drop it over a year later with no warning <3

🫃2️⃣ - DEWEY^2 P2!!!! she is almost done (i am lying) but she is so close i can almost taste it. sorry to my pwp that grew its own feelings baby

😇🤭 (🕒 -> 🕜) - rip i’m not telling you about this one until it’s posted but it IS complete aside from being ao3 formatted and the eight billion edits i inevitably do right before full-sending it

☁️💧 - cloud petey fic, which exists mostly as an embarrassingly large tag on a different blog and is condensing into a narrative about as well as water at 30° N/S. the time loop fic also falls under this description

eternally in progress (short list)

🌑🐕 - tyler borzoituzzi exists… there is an index of scenes/plot points… it plays like a movie in my head…

💯❕- fantastic! ‘verse

👁️👻 - stevie brandon seeing ghosts au, which has eight different (now nine i guess but you haven't seen the mustache adam post yet) plots. sorry

just. rotating like a microwave

🍎 - because they didn’t have a pomegranate emoji, this is what i used for the fic that feels like it should be a 50k connor bedard character study hanif abdurraqib/cathal kelly thesis about legends and mythmaking in sports and eating your young. yes i know pomegranates aren’t actually pomes and apples are but it’s fine

🦈 - the one cat da fuck they doing over there meme but about the sharks just like. in general. more on this at five

tagging @colap1nto, @songsandswords, @whitenikes, @gordiemeow, @acheronist, and anybody else who wants to share!!

[nymphoniah]

p links with logan howlett part 3

as always: nsfw, mdni! 18+ only! (part 1) (part 2)

content/warnings: somnophilia, breath play, impact play, p-in-v sex, anal, bdsm themes, spit play, gagging, oral sex, manhandling, public sex

i found an account that posts clips from pascal’s ss so expect me to go a bit feral this week…! :3 anyways, all links are on twt, so in order to open them make sure you’re logged in!

you decide to take a shower after going at it for hours, but logan decides to hop in for round two

logan lets you tag along while he’s chauffeuring around the city, and during his downtime, you ride him and give him some sloppy head

trying out breath play with logan for the first time. also some pussy slapping at the end :3

logan training your cunt with his fingers to prepare you for his dick

you get bratty with logan, and he has no other choice but to put his girl in her place

logan is set to leave for a long mission and will be gone for a week. the night before he leaves, you decide you want to film something to keep you company for when he’s gone

logan can’t help but stare at your ass while you’re prepping dinner in the kitchen. he can’t ignore you, so he decides to bend you over the counter

size kink with logan as he practically uses and handles you like a fucktoy, sliding you up and down his cock with ease.

logan pinning you down with his body as he fingers you (and you thank him for the treat by giving him head!)

anal with logan, then later overstimulates you while fingering you (also some spit play)

consensual somnophilia with logan—he wakes up with morning wood and doesn’t wanna bother you so early in the morning!

you and logan are sent out on a mission, but logan gets exposed to sex pollen. being the kind girl you are, you decide to help him out

logan talking you through it as you ride him

rough sex with logan and deepthroating and gagging around his cock

logan pushing your head down into the mattress while he fucks you from behind

you’re a whining mess as logan splits your cunt in half with his cock

wearing logan’s white button-up while he fucks you senseless

lazy morning sex with logan

hope yall enjoyed <3

[flowersforbucky]

where the lines overlap

logan howlett x reader (dofp!logan x mutant!reader)

word count: 8.7k

summary: no one gets under your skin quite as much as logan howlett - and he knows it, too. sex pollen trope.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, sex pollen so dub con, frenemies to lovers? they aren't enemies but logan and reader don't really get along, reader is a mutant with pyrokinesis, reader is afab, reader is described as being smaller than logan, no use of y/n, wet dream, fuck or die situation, oral, pet names (bub, princess), brief pain kink for logan, unprotected p in v, cream pie

author's note: takes place after the events of days of future past - so everyone's alive, charles is old af, and logan has a pretty streak of silver in his hair. not proofread super well so please ignore any errors.

There's certain things that you like to think about when you're pissed off. It’s a coping mechanism that you learned in therapy at the ripe age of eleven.

Go to your happy place or whatever.

For you, that's the mansion's courtyard after a fresh snowfall, and having the library all to yourself on a rainy day, and the comfort of your bedroom on one of the rare days that you aren’t teaching, or training, or on a mission.

At this point in your life, you’ve forgotten just about everything you were taught in that therapist's office. It's not like you had wanted to be there, but your parents had been worried and scared – and rightfully so. With the unexpected emergence of your pyrokinetic abilities came multiple accidental house fires born out of preteen angst.

So they did the only thing they knew to do at the time – stick you in therapy in hopes you would acquire some anger management techniques.

These days, you have a pretty good handle on your powers. With a lot of time and effort, you learned to control them – and not just control them, but yield them in a beneficial and productive way.

All of that progress comes dangerously close to going out the window anytime you're in close proximity to Logan Howlett.

Maybe all is an exaggeration – but no one else makes your fingertips burn hot with fire that threatens to break through the barrier of your skin quite like him. From his bossiness to his arrogance and attitude, you’ve clashed heads since the first day you met him.

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault.

You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him.

You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass.

A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

He looks at you with an amused expression. “See? Too much force.”

“I didn’t know that having giant forks for hands made you an expert on throwing knives.”

He exhales a breathy laugh, staring at you for several seconds before turning to pick the dagger up from the ground. He then proceeds to collect the rest of the knives that you had previously thrown from the body of the practice target.

In heavy silence, he struts over to you with the daggers in hand. He turns to face a wooden target board, finding the balance point of the knife before sending it flying through the air.

Bullseye.

“A long time ago, when I first joined this team, Charles made me practice a non-power related method of self-defense, too.” He pauses, lining the second dagger up with the practice dummy. To no surprise, it’s another perfect throw.

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

“How to annoy someone by sneaking up on them and giving them unsolicited advice while they are minding their own business?”

You position your feet once again, holding the knife up in preparation to take aim. Your eyes dart back and forth between the blade and the target ahead of you. You hesitate, feeling nervous under his gaze.

Logan moves from standing beside you, to standing behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as his large figure looms over you. If he were to took a step forward, his chest would brush against your back.

He uses the tip of his boot to nudge your heel forward half an inch, adjusting your stance. He takes your right hand in his, and you have to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

A wave of annoyance washes over you that he’s able to fluster you so easily. It makes you as pissed at yourself as it does him. He’s barely touching you – his hand dwarfing yours is the only point of physical contact, but you’d think that he were pinning you up against a wall with his body.

You tell yourself the sudden light-headedness and increased heartrate is because of the newfound closeness, and nothing more. You’re used to being around Logan – the two of you live together and work together. His general presence is nothing new. But the intimacy of your current predicament is.

And maybe the fact that notes of tobacco and bourbon are infiltrating your senses doesn’t help.

“As unsolicited as my advice may be,” he says lowly as he pulls your hand back slightly, “I give it because if there is ever a situation where someone's trying to hurt you, and you’re unable to light them on fire for some reason, I would really hope that you could at least impale them.”

He tightens his hold on your hand, and then snaps both of your wrists forward. Surprisingly, your brain registers to release your grip just in time. When the tip of the blade impales the center of the target perfectly, he drops your hand.

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

“Much better. Now come back upstairs. Charles needs to see all of us in his office.”

••••••

You and Logan are the last people to enter Charles’ office.

Storm, Scott, Jean, Marie, and Bobby have all found places to sit throughout the small room. Logan chooses to lean against the door that clicks shut behind him, while you exhale in relief at the sight of an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, next to Marie.

“Ah, how nice of you two to join us,” Charles greets. “I was starting to think that Logan got lost on his way to retrieve you.”

You force out a laugh, earning a side-eye from Marie as Charles launches back into whatever he had been in the middle of before you two interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Marie murmurs to you. “You looked a little sick when you walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug her off without looking at her. You keep your eyes on Charles. “Yeah, I'm just tired. Been training all morning.”

What were you supposed to tell her? That you were thankful to be wearing a tactical suit so that Logan couldn’t see all of the goosebumps that bloomed across your skin when he was practically breathing down your neck less than five minutes ago? Or that the walk back up to Charles’ office was filled with a loaded silence in place of your usual bickering and banter?

Marie might be one of your closest friends, and you trust her, but Logan is something of a fatherly figure to her. There’s no way you’re letting her hear those words come from your mouth.

You try your hardest to focus on all of the information that Charles throws at you. You’re all to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning. When he explains where you’re going and why, chills run down your spine.

Alberta, Canada – more specifically, Alkali Lake. All of your friends seem to tense up at the mere mention of the place.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the urge to sneak a glance to try to gauge Logan's reaction. You’ve never been to Alkali Lake before, and you’re far from excited about going – you can only imagine how he feels, given his history with the abandoned military base.

After no word of any activity surrounding the base for years, Charles had been made aware that the recent disappearance of a group of young adult humans had been traced back to Alkali Lake – to a modern day subsidiary of the group Weapon X.

The same group responsible for Logan’s skeleton being made from adamantium.

This, of course, is where all of you come in.

After a detailed rundown of the goals for tomorrow – the main one being safe extraction of the humans – Charles dismisses all of you to rest for the remainder of the day.

When everyone stands up, you finally risk glancing at Logan, but he’s already opening the door to Charles’ office and strutting away.

••••••

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs.

His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly.

You're putty in his hands.

“I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

You can only guess that the sounds he’s referring to are annoyed sighs and you telling him to shut the fuck up, but right now, you don't care enough to ask for any clarification.

“Yeah?” You yelp when his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. “Maybe if you spent less time pissing me off you’d get to—”

You're cut off by him plunging the tip of his index finger inside you. You writhe against him, your walls constricting around the digit.

“Less time pissing you off, more time letting you fuck my fingers and face. Got it.”

The slamming of a door somewhere outside of your room causes you to bolt upright in your bed.

You open your eyes to darkness except for the red glow of the numbers on your digital alarm clock that read 12:26 in the morning. Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and your skin is clammy with a thin layer of sweat. You throw your covers away from you in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck—”

You whisper the three words to yourself over and over again until your breathing resumes a normal pattern.

You’re alone, of course. In the comfort of your private room, where you had fallen asleep several hours ago. The difference between now and then is an uncomfortable pool of wetness between your legs, soaking your underwear.

You can’t even recall the last time you had such a vivid sex dream. It felt utterly lifelike – you reach down between your legs, trailing your fingers over the skin of your inner thighs where you had felt his beard tickle and tease you.

How the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, when you’re having to work together to rescue humans from Alkali Lake? How are you supposed to come up with smart-ass remarks for his endless taunting and teasing when you’re going to be trying your hardest to not replay the images of his hazel eyes looking up at from between your thighs?

“Get a fucking grip,” you whisper hiss to yourself.

It’s Logan. The same Logan who acted like he was too good to say more than ten words to you the first half a year that you were with the team. The same Logan that tries to get you benched for the dumbest, smallest reasons he can think of. The same Logan that condescendingly calls you kid or princess every chance he gets because he knows it gets under your skin.

You need a glass of water. And some fresh air, and a cold shower—

You start by picking up the pair of sweatpants that you’d discarded before falling asleep a few hours ago. You step back into them, deciding to trek to the kitchen for some ice water. Your mouth feels as dry as cotton.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away.

Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

You clear your throat to announce your presence, not quite trusting your voice to speak. He looks at you over his shoulder, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips.

You walk over to the cabinet beside him, keeping your eyes off of him entirely as you get a glass.

“What's got you awake at this hour?” He closes the fridge, leaning back against the edge of the countertop. The only light in the room now comes from the small, dim bulb above the sink.

If he only fucking knew, you think. If he only knew that the real reason you are out of bed right now is because you’d just woken up from an extremely graphic, jarring dream of you riding his face.

You fill the cup up with cold water from the kitchen sink and take a large swig before once again turning to face him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” you answer with a vague gesture to his half-dressed form and beer bottle.

He takes in your appearance, too. His eyes trail from your exposed feet, to your baggy sweatpants, and up to your even baggier t-shirt before settling on your face. You feel particularly vulnerable under his gaze right now. You compare how you look to how he looks – with his stupid abs that look like God himself chiseled them from stone and his sweatpants that hang just a little too comfortably.

You sip on your water just to keep from biting your lip.

“Guess we were both thirsty,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Guess so,” you hum, and because you don’t want to fall into an awkward silence and it’s the only thing you can think to add, you say, “Nervous about the mission?”

His expression darkens and posture tenses at your question. “I am,” he admits. “And if you knew as much as I do about that place, you’d be nervous, too.”

You huff. Your grip tightens around the glass in your hand at the mere insinuation that he knows your feelings. “Who says that I’m not?”

“If you’re going, you’re not nervous enough.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, knowing damn well the direction that this conversation is headed. You’d heard it all from him before – anything to keep you as far away from him as possible.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—”

You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over.

“Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

“I’m very aware of how long you’ve been with this team, bub,” he says calmly, which makes you all the more heated.

“For three years you’ve spewed every bullshit reason you can think of to keep me on the sidelines,” you laugh. “I wish you’d fucking admit that you just don’t like me. It’d be a lot more respectable than acting like you’re worried about—”

Logan’s gaze drops to the glass in your hand, making you come to an abrupt pause. You follow his stare, realizing that you’ve managed to melt the glass where your fingertips grip the glass. Water begins to leak out from the holes, spilling onto your sweatpants and the floor below you.

There’s no visible flames emanating from your fingertips. Your anger hadn’t progressed to full on fire, just intense heat, but still. No one else makes you come as close to losing control as him.

No one. And he seems to know it, too. You can tell by the smug look on his face.

You dump what little liquid is left into the sink before chucking the distorted glass into the garbage.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his.

“Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

You rip your hand away from him, an exaggerated look of disgust on your face. Your recent dream pops into your head and you have to remind yourself that he’s not Jean or Charles – he can’t read your mind.

“You're lucky that you've got those handy healing powers,” you spit as you once again begin exiting the kitchen. “If I thought there was a chance of it actually shutting you up, I’d burn more than just Charles’ vintage glassware.”

You hear him say your name, but you’re already speed walking back to your room and playing your list of happy place thoughts on a loop in your head.

The soup that Storm makes when everyone at the school seems to get sick at the same time. One of your younger students picking you a flower. The smell of fresh laundry, the crisp pages of a new book.

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

You would have been better off just enduring the discomfort of a dry throat, you think. You don't know what's worse – not being able to sleep because you're rattled from a wet dream about him, or not being able to sleep because you've once again allowed him to get under your skin.

You crawl back under your covers, hoping that when you close your eyes, you don't see his face again.

••••••

Logan doesn’t make any more appearances in your dreams for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t stop him from being the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in the morning.

And as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, the only thing on your mind the entire flight from New York to Alberta.

From the tension that filled the air when he corrected your knife throwing technique yesterday morning to the warmth of his calloused hand when he grabbed you by the wrist in the kitchen last night, you're fighting a losing battle with no one but yourself.

As far as you can tell, he’s utterly unaffected. The fact that he chose to sit directly in front of you on the jet instead of any of the other empty seats says as much.

Not even ten minutes into the flight, you're staring at the tufts of his hair and his broad shoulders when you have to remind yourself that there's two telepaths occupying this jet with you. Though you trust both Charles and Jean to not read your mind without cause, the mere possibility of either one of them accidentally tuning into your thoughts and seeing a replay of your most recent dream or hearing you think about what it would be like to tug on those stupid fucking tufts of hair that resemble kitten ears is enough to mortify you.

You find yourself grateful that you brought a book and headphones with you to distract yourself for the duration of the trip.

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath.

“Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water.

It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

As much as he infuriates you, you still care about him. You wish you could say that you didn’t, but the fact that you feel the urge to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze makes that pretty hard to deny.

That urge dissipates as quickly as it comes over you. The bitter chill of the mountain wind and your teammates voices pull you back to reality. You awkwardly fiddle with one of the daggers strapped to your thigh instead.

“Jean and Scott, the two of you take the west side of the building,” Charles instructs when the group nears the discreet entrance. “Bobby and Rogue, clear the east wing. Storm and I will be keeping watch outside to make sure that no one tries to escape with the humans.”

“What about us?” you ask with a slight nod towards Logan. The fact that neither of you had been given instructions yet leaves it to be assumed that you’ll be paired up together.

You and Logan working as a pair was nothing out of the ordinary, and although that typically comes with a lot of annoyance, right now you can’t help but feel a little relieved by it.

Even if you are still irritated at him for his behavior and choice of words in the kitchen last night and even if you do think of him between your thighs every time you look at him for more than five seconds, he’s still more familiar with this place than anyone else here.

And no matter how much he makes you want to tear your hair out, there's never a time that you feel unsafe when he's near.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk.

“I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble.

“No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

Logan snorts, earning curious glances from everyone other than you and Charles. He does get a nasty side-eye from you – a silent promise to deliver on last night’s threat to find something to burn other than vintage glassware.

Your teammates split up into their respective groups upon entering the base, leaving you to follow Logan's lead towards the lower levels.

It’s unsettling just how silent it is. The only sounds are that of yours and Logan's boots against the ground. You'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the building.

And it's cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones ache. You instinctively flex your fingers, focusing on the warmth that radiates from the tips.

As the two of you make your way through the dark, seemingly endless basement, checking each room for signs of life, you can't help but think of Logan being here under much different circumstances.

You don't know the full extent of his time here – even he only remembers bits and pieces. But you know enough to know that this can’t be easy for him.

The fact that he's being uncharacteristically quiet only reaffirms that. He makes none of his typical taunts and jabs, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

You find yourself damn near wishing he’d make some snide comment about how you’re walking too loudly and how being partnered up with you feels like babysitting duty – if he did, maybe then you wouldn’t feel this annoying, persistent worry over his mental well-being.

“Logan,” you begin quietly as the two of you approach a large set of hospital style double doors at the end of a corridor. “I know being here can't be easy for you. I'm sorry that you have to be.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, not meeting your eyes as he slowly pushes one of the doors open, peaking into the room before stepping inside and holding the door open for you.

“Just part of the job, bub,” he sighs. “I know what I signed up for.”

You enter, walking past him into the dark room. You shine your flashlight around the cramped space. Right away, you can tell that it’s vacant, as all of the other rooms you’ve checked have been. But it’s different – whereas most of the rooms have been completely empty, this one contains multiple twin sized beds. No frames, no pillows, just plain white sheets on each one.

“I know you do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and he shines his own flashlight around the room from right behind you.

“It’s okay, princess,” he snorts. “I’m a big boy. You don’t gotta pretend to be worried about me.”

Princess. Your fingertips tingle as soon as the pet name leaves his lips.

“I’m not pretend—”

The sudden, loud clicking of a deadbolt echoes through the room, silencing you. You and Logan stare at each other for a brief moment, startled and confused, before he turns around and pushes on the double doors to no avail.

He slams the full weight of his body against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

“What the fuck,” he growls in between repeated strikes against the doors.

“Logan and I are locked in a room in the basement,” you say as you click on the communication device in your left ear. “The door automatically locked after we came inside. We can’t get it open—”

You’re met with white noise.

“My fucking comm isn’t working.” Panic begins to set in as you yank the device out of your ear to inspect it. There’s a small green light indicating that it is on, but for whatever reason, it isn’t getting signal.

“Scott? Storm? Can anyone hear us?” Logan says as he messes with his own communication device. “Nothing,” he grunts after a moment of silence.

“Professor? Jean? If either of you are listening, now would be a great time to poke around in our brains and let us know.”

Nothing indeed.

“Okay,” Logan says as he backs away from the double doors. “Blast them.”

“Blast them?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “They’re industrial metal doors. They’re like two feet thick. These walls are made out of concrete.” You bang your first against the rock solid wall for emphasis. “What the fuck do you think fire is—”

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

“How about not setting the room we are trapped in on fire? Only one of us has regenerative—”

A loud hissing noise sounds from above, causing you and Logan to both point your flashlights up towards the ceiling. You squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Large vents make up well over fifty percent of the ceiling, releasing what appears to be a fog like substance. It quickly transforms the air above you into one large, milky looking cloud.

“Charles! Storm! Scott – we need help. Quickly, we need help. I don’t know what’s going—”

You continue to shout into the communication device while Logan alternates between punching the door with his fists and throwing the full weight of his body against the metal, but all of your efforts are futile. The doors don’t budge, and you hear nothing but static from the comm.

You frantically glance around the room, looking for another escape route. There’s no other doors, and no windows. You’re completely enclosed by the four concrete walls and the impenetrable metal doors.

“Hold your breath!” Logan shouts as the fog descends upon the two of you, but it’s too late. The sickeningly sweet smelling mist encompasses you, making it impossible to see anything other than the thick silver vapor. It infiltrates your nostrils, causing you to gag. You cough, desperately trying to clear your airway of the substance.

It burns – your throat, your nostrils, your eyes and skin. Anywhere that it comes in contact with you feels like pins and needles.

You’re vaguely aware that Logan is somewhere to your left, asking if you’re okay in-between coughs and gags of his own. You can’t catch your breath well enough to answer him.

His hand clasps around the top of your arm. Your vision goes fuzzy and you collapse into him, light-headed from the profuse coughing.

“I think it’s dissipating,” Logan whispers in a strained voice, still supporting you so that you don’t fall to the floor. You risk cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, and realize that he’s right. There’s still a veil of mist surrounding you, but it’s no longer so opaque that you can’t see even two inches in front of your face.

You take deep breaths, making no effort to step away from him as you attempt to regain control of your breathing. Your lungs feel like they are on fire and your throat feels like you haven’t had any water in days.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice comes out as a croak.

“Can you stand?” he asks you. You nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace.

As soon as he steps away from you to see if the doors are still locked, the momentary relief that you felt when the fog began to dissipate is replaced with renewed terror. The room, which was previously dark except for the light from your flashlights, suddenly glows a deep red color from the ceiling that now emits crimson fluorescence.

You open your mouth to call out for Charles or Jean again, when a throbbing sensation radiates throughout your gut. You clutch your hands over your abdomen, gasping at the sudden and awkward feeling.

Logan turns his attention away from the doors and back to you as soon as he notices how you’re hunched over. You stumble over to the bed that's closest to you, the world blurring around you in shades of red.

“Something is wrong,” you gasp out. You know you're stating the obvious – something has been wrong since the moment that the doors locked behind you.

He's next to you in two long strides, kneeling beside the bed and looking up at you in concern. The ache in your lower belly seems to worsen with his close proximity. Your skin feels feverish, making you want to peel your tactical suit off of your body.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he demands. Other than obvious confusion and fear, he appears physically fine. You piece together that whatever that shit was, it’s effecting you much differently than it is him – undoubtedly due to his healing abilities.

You can't form a coherent sentence – all you can focus on is the way that the discomfort in your abdomen travels down to your groin, making you clench your thighs together. You have the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull him to you, as if having him as close as possible to you is the only solution for every uncomfortable thing happening to you.

“You gotta talk to me, bub. Tell me what’s going on,” he says when you don’t answer him. He puts a hand just above your knee and you have to hold back the whimper that threatens to break through your lips. He notices your pained expression and quickly withdraws his hand from your thigh.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand in yours out of desperation to maintain some level of physical contact with him. “I – I don't know how to explain what’s happening. Just – I just need you to keep touching me. Please. Whatever that fog was, it’s making me feel like…”

You trail off, realizing that you must sound every bit as insane as you feel. You don’t know how to begin articulating what’s happening to you, because it makes no sense. When the silver mist first started to rain down from the ceiling, the last thing on your mind was Logan pinning you to one of these mattresses and railing you until you until you see stars. Now, you think that if he so much as stops holding your hand, you'll fucking die.

A look of clarity washes over Logan’s face – with a hint of something else that you can't quite pinpoint, too.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself.

“I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—”

“What is it?” you implore.

His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs –

“It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

You let his words sink in. It’s not something you’ve ever heard of, but you don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. How could you, with the way that your pussy is throbbing at the mere sound of his voice? Under normal circumstances, you might not read too far into that. But right now? On a mission, locked in a creepy basement, unable to get in contact with your teammates?

“Weren’t able to fight it,” you repeat slowly. “You're saying there’s only one way out of this.”

He doesn’t answer – just looks at you with sympathy. With pity.

“No,” you shake your head. You yank your hand from his grasp and move back across the mattress as the gravity of the situation hits you. To distance yourself from him feels like ripping air out of your own lungs, but the alternative is borderline unthinkable.

“I can’t – won’t ask that of you,” you declare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that laughs at you, as if saying it’s cute that you think you have a choice. The pain and longing grow with each passing second, threatening to consume you from the inside out.

“You’re fine. It would be different if it was both of us. But you shouldn’t have to do this just because you're stuck here with me.”

“Have to? You make it sound like it would be a punishment for me,” he chuckles darkly. He finally rises from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. He stands beside the mattress, looming over you in the maroon lighting.

“Let’s not overcomplicate this, princess,” he murmurs. He grasps your face in his palm and tilts your head to look up at him. His touch is a balm – it feels like running a burn under a cold stream of water.

“I'm gonna take care of you, and then you can go right back to tolerating my existence.” He runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of the singular digit against your flesh.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?”

Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist.

He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink.

As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

You’re past the point of finding it in you to care about consequences. You’re no longer thinking about how you’ll be able to look him in the eye when this is over, or how you’ll pretend like everything is perfectly normal when the two of you are back on the jet with your teammates.

Maybe you can fight this drug, or maybe he’s right and there’s no point in trying. Either way, you’ve decided that you're going to have him before you leave this room.

You drop his hand, bringing yours to the zipper at the neckline of your tactical suit. You slowly tug it downwards, gauging his expression as he watches you expose your chest and stomach.

For once, he’s all out of smart remarks.

A part of you feels a sense of satisfaction and wants to continue taking your time with undressing yourself, just to keep him looking at you like this – but every fiber of your being is screaming at you for more.

You waste no more time with shoving the restrictive Kevlar material down your arms, leaving you in only your bra from the waist up. Logan unfreezes at the sight, crawling onto the bed on his knees. You maneuver yourself so that you’re laying flat against the mattress, pulling him down with you.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth.

His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

Your complaint dies in your throat when he slates his lips over yours.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way that he kisses you. He slips his tongue past your lips, moving his lips with fervency and urgency – like he needs this as badly as you do.

You buck your hips up into him, desperate for any amount of friction. He grinds down against you, his erection evident even through the thick material of both of your tactical suits.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss to unzip your suit the rest of the way down. He peels it down your thighs, only stopping to discard your boots. When you’re left in only your underwear, he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So, what exactly was I doing in your dream to have you saying my name like that, huh?” he asks as he toys with the waistband of your panties.

You roll your eyes, your patience growing thinner as the ache in your belly grows stronger. He can tease you about that all he wants when you’re back in the safety of the mansion, when you’re no longer under the influence of potentially life threatening chemicals and capable of thinking of a proper comeback.

“Shut up and eat me out.”

His smirk only grows, but he doesn’t tease you any further. He tugs your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He lowers himself onto his stomach, still fully dressed. Under less dire circumstances, you would’ve been eager to get him out of his clothes, too – but right now, your highest priority is feeling his mouth on you.

No wet dream could have prepared you for how euphoric it actually feels for his teeth to nip at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, or the way that his tongue draws lazy circles at your hole before his lips lock around your clit.

You writhe against him, chasing the release that you’ve been desperate for since the second the vapor first came in contact with your skin. He’s more than generous, expertly nursing at your swollen bud as he eases a slender finger inside your cunt.

One finger – that’s all it takes to feel your climax building, the coil in your lower belly tightening. You feel your walls pulse around the digit as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even try to hold back your cries and praises of pleasure, letting him know how good he’s making you feel.

When he sits back, his lips and beard glisten with your slick in the red glow that encases you both. You push yourself into a sitting position and reach for the zipper of his suit, antsy to shed his clothing now that your physical discomfort had been quelled – at least for the time being.

He helps you, shrugging out of his vest and tugging his undershirt over his head. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but never shirtless for you. You want to dig your nails into the planes of his chest, and run your tongue along the protruding vein that disappears beyond the waistline of his pants –

You undo his belt buckle and pop open the button of his pants before hastily yanking both his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs free, bobbing inches before your face. You start to adjust your position on the bed – to get on your knees and take him in your mouth – when a low chuckle causes you to pause and look up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, earning a confused pout from you.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows.

“S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.”

You aren’t going to argue with that.

You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices.

“Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

He fucks you similarly to how he kisses you – like this is saving him as much as it is you. It's rough, and fast, and messy – and you dread the moment that it’s over.

No one has ever filled you as completely and perfectly as him. You don’t think anyone else ever will, again.

Each drag of his cock along your walls has you clenching around him, each time his head rams against your cervix you can’t help but cry his name.

He snakes his hand in between you, reaching down to where his body collides with yours. His thumb massages over your sensitive clit.

You rake your nails down his back and he hisses in approval, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess,” he grunts before kissing you again.

You don't have time to overthink the sentiment before your second orgasm is washing over you. Logan cums as soon as he feels your pussy pulsating around him, fucking you until he's spilled every last drop of his warm seed deep inside you. When you're both finished, he stills inside you and rests his sweat-slicked forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

As if on cue, you hear the deadbolt unlock from the other side of the room. A second later, Storm’s voice sounds from your communication device that had fallen to the floor at some point.

“I don't feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside my vagina anymore. So, I’d say yeah, it worked.”

He huffs a laugh, and then pulls out of you with a sigh.

“Logan,” you say, stopping him before he can pull away from you entirely. He stares down at you, waiting for you to continue.

You aren’t even sure what to say. Truthfully, you just weren’t ready for the moment to end and for things to go back to normal between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spit out after a moment of loaded silence. “For… helping me,” you finish lamely.

“Don’t thank me, bub,” he chuckles. “It’s far from the worst thing that's happened to me in this place.”

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

And as soon as you've showered and your head hits the pillow after returning home to the mansion, you sleep for another ten hours. Every time you wake up and think that you're finally well-rested, your body says otherwise and you're asleep again within minutes.

You wish you could say it’s a dreamless sleep, but that would be a lie. You see Logan’s face every time you close your eyes.

But it's different than the last dream you had of him. It isn’t images of his head between your thighs or his fingers slipping in and out of you.

It’s just.. him. His presence. The lingering feeling of his lips on yours, the light flavor of tobacco and menthol.

And the echo of the words he spoke as he teased you with the head of his cock and made you cum around his length.

“Don’t you worry, though. If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I’ll let you.”

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess.”

When you wake, the ache between your thighs for him remains, despite the fact that the effects of the drugs had long since faded.

You know you shouldn’t read too far into words spoken while the two of you were locked in that room. But you can’t help but keep thinking that he wasn’t under the influence of chemical subjugation. Which leaves you questioning if he meant the things he said, or if he was just trying to lighten a scary, impossible situation for both of you.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When you finally gather the courage the knock on his door, the sun has set and everyone has retired to their bedrooms for the evening.

You almost dash back into your own room during the few seconds that it takes him to open his door. He wears sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a surprised expression.

“Hey, bub,” he greets you apprehensively. You don't normally make a habit of stopping by his room for late night chats. “Was starting to worry that you’d fallen into a coma.”

He opens his door wider, motioning with his head for you to come inside.

“Felt like it,” you give a small laugh. “Whatever was in that shit wore me out.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, nervously wringing your hands together.

“You feeling better now?” he asks as he leans against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes trail over the large muscles of his chest and shoulders. The memory of his body caging you to the twin sized mattress in the basement of the bunker flashes through your mind.

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

“All things considered,” you shrug. “I just wanted to check in with you. Has Charles… said anything?”

What you're actually trying to ask is if Charles interrogated him about where the two of you were during the mission, why no one was able to contact either of you, and why you have been so exhausted that you've done nothing but sleep for the last day, but you trust that he knows what you mean.

“He hasn’t said anything, but..” he trails off, eyes darting around the room to avoid your gaze. “It’s Charles. Safe to assume he knows and is just being decent by not saying anything.”

“Right,” you murmur.

If he doesn’t already know, it's only a matter of time before you slip up and imagine the feeling of his lips on yours or the sounds of his moans in the middle of a mission debriefing.

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

“They are,” he assures you with a soft smile. “They’re all receiving medical attention, and most have been reunited with their loved ones.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “No thanks to us, I guess.”

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

He pushes himself off the dresser, walking the few feet to where you perch at the edge of the mattress. He sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He smells of Old Spice deodorant and spearmint toothpaste, and it makes you the room spin around you.

“But everyone’s okay. They’re safe. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. He’s close enough that you can practically feel the heat from his body. You risk looking at his face, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “You’re right. Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in with—”

You start to stand up, when he cups your jaw in his hand and pulls your face to his. He’s hesitant in a way that he wasn’t yesterday – he gives you the opportunity to pull away before he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip, as if asking for permission.

When you don’t give any kind of indication that you want him to stop, he pulls you flush against him and slips his tongue past your lips. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, twining your fingers through his hair.

He takes his time with you. Whereas yesterday’s kisses were filled with urgency and desperation, todays is tender and sensual. Now, you’re allowed the luxury of taking your time.

He lays down against the mattress, pulling you with him. You straddle his stomach, your lips never once breaking contact. His hands grip the globes of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat through your pajama pants.

You grind against the hard planes of his abdomen, earning a throaty growl from him.

He breaks away, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath.

“What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?”

“No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—”

“What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest.

“I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.”

You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

oooops i accidentally wrote another fic where logan overhears something that he wasn't supposed to 😅🫠 did not originally plan for that to happen hahaha

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

[bunny-jpeg]

all access

simon "ghost" riley

tags: smut/pwp, semi-public sex, train station sex, unprotected sex, size difference/kink, breeding kink, possessive behavior, unhinged and filthy

a/n: inspired by true events

simon missed you. simon missed you more than anything, you were apart for only two weeks and he couldn't take it anymore! he knew he was being a hypocrite, he could leave for over a month for work and come home to a hot meal and a hotter cunt. sate his hunger while balls deep inside of you.

but it was different when you left for two weeks, visiting your mother up in the north and left simon all alone back in london. he needed you, and it was hard for you two to be apart when you didn't have to be. so maybe it was the most gentleman-like when he shuffled you from the train platform into a quiet, dark corridor and told you to get up on your toes so he could have access.

the underground hallway of the train station was near dead at this hour. all the commuters for the evening were already at their homes, nice and comfortable after dinner. but, simon was hungry for something else.

two weeks he had spent without you beautiful cunt. it was hard to go from your soft sex to his rough hand. no amount of photos and (eventually stained) panties could compete with you against him. the differences in size and strengths. he was near six foot-five and his bulk allowed for him to crowd in your space. while it was comforting, it was rather easy for him to pull you up against the concrete hall in the quiet hallway.

"i missed ya, baby." he said as his hand pushed up the skirt you wore, "wore this slutty lil thing because you knew i'd be on edge when you came home." he pressed you further up against the wall with your back arched a little to give him better access to your behind, "give me easy access to what belongs to me, huh? bet those little fingers of yours couldn't do anythin'. missed me, missed my cock." he got his cock out of his jeans, the belt still somewhat around his waist.

there was no time to lose, just because the station was quiet doesn't mean no late night traveler couldn't bound down those stairs and see a man of simon's size fuck a woman of your size out in public. he hiked your skirt up over your ass and got your panties down to your socks before he pressed up into your further. the tip of his cock slipped into your achy sex and you had to cover your mouth to keep quiet.

as much as simon would have loved to hear those moans echo in the hallway, he'd rather not have a citation put against either of you for the act of public sex. it was risky, but it only fueled the fire in simon's belly as he rocked against you. one hand on the wall over your head, the other on your hip. his grip was nice and tight on you, his cock battered against the deepest parts of you.

it was sexual filth, it was hot as he watched you hold back your moans as he fucked you up against the wall. the angle was a little hard given your size differences, but he knew you were into that. if simon was a pervert then so were you. you loved the rough, filthy sex you two had. made your little cunt squeeze around him as he fucked you quickly. no time for tenderness, not when simon was a man on a mission.

he said lowly in your ear, his tone quiet yet dangerous. he fucked up into you and you felt the swim of pleasure in your core as he spoke, "never leavin' me again, right, doll? not goin' anywhere unless i'm with ya." his tone made your head spin and you felt your core get soaked by his words. there was a fury to his thrusts as you tried to stay on your tip toes so he could fuck you up against the wall.

"si." you whispered.

"missed ya too much, thinkin' about ya all the time. thinkin' about your pretty little tits and my teeth marks all over them. your pussy and my cum inside of you. paintin' those pretty insides white." he groaned as he continued to thrust up against you.

the pleasure was mounting, the want in your core made your heart race. everything felt so exposed and it made your head spin. you covered your mouth once more to keep the noises trapped. the hallway remained empty as simon continued to hit up against you in all the right ways.

"need ya, need ya, doll." he said softly, "can't have you runnin' off like that again. not without me, i know, i know. i'm bein' all possessive, but can't fuck my hand anymore. not when i got my baby's sweet cunt to bury in." he purred lowly, his voice echoed in your body.

he kissed were feverish and you tensed up as he continued to rut up against you with a heated passion. the moans got caught in your throat, and were muffled by your hands. the pace was unsteady, a forceful need to lay claim to what it is. his woman, his everything.

"next time." he said, tone still quiet, "bring me, let me meet your mother, show her i'll be a good husband to you. i know she's been askin' about grandkids." his large hand grazed your middle and your stomach did a flip. he gave your stomach a pat and said, "might as well start workin' on that. visit your mum in a year with my chunky little son at your hip. riley boys, little hell-raisers."

that sent you over the edge. you near hit the wall with your hands as you clenched around him. you grit your teeth as pleasure hit down on you. it left you dizzy and slumped against the wall as you started to feel the after lingers.

"beautiful, my beautiful girl." he purred as he continued to rut against you. he continued to fuck your pretty body to his liking. a few more quick ruts and he finished inside of you with a deep exhale as he tried not to be too loud. it felt amazing, your cunt clung to him perfectly. he rocked against you a little further until he stopped and gave your ass a pat, 'that's it. perfect." he said with a immense sense of love before he bent down to get your panties back over your plush behind.

you couldn't form your words and instead leaned against simon as he took your suitcase and led you back to his car to bring you home. he lifted your suitcase like a real gentleman as the cold air brought you back to your senses.

his cum stuck to your panties while he opened the car door for you and even buckled you in. you whispered "i love you" when he got into the other side. he kissed you and replied, "i love you too, doll. but next time, i should come with ya. be with my baby's mama." he gave you a cheeky wink before he patted your thigh before he pulled the car out of the lot. a promise of a proper homecoming once you got back to your flat <3

[marblehazel]

Sitter

dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

You’re spending spring break alone at home while your father is five thousand miles away when all of sudden, you fall sick. Enter Joel Miller: your father’s buddy, sent by him to check on you.

Tags: Explicit MDNI, no outbreak, age gap, no mother in the picture but your father has a named girlfriend (sorry), no bra household, dry humping, footjob while watching SpongeBob, oral (m and f receiving)

Word count: 6.8k

“Dad,” your voice is hoarse like it has just come out from a dying goose, and you spend the next five seconds trying to clear your throat.

“So like, I’m… sick, kinda, but it’s not really bad, so—” A train of coughs that feels like they are going to tear your lungs apart. “—sorry about that. It’s nothing. Don’t worry too much, don’t even think about it. I just wanted to let you know.” Another coughing fit. “Okay. Have fun, I love you.”

You click your phone screen and let the voicemail find its way to your father’s ancient block of telecommunication. It’s 11 p.m. for you, 5 a.m. in Tuscany, you calculate with your fingers. You might be wrong. Either way, your father is probably asleep. He had been away for a couple of days with his girlfriend Amy for her nephew's wedding. And they plan to spend another week there, because it’s their anniversary, and Amy had always wanted to go to Italy.

“Will you be okay?” your father asked, apologetic. He leaned onto your bedroom door’s frame while you were unpacking your backpack.

“Yeah, Dad, what am I, eight? Go.” you laughed lightheartedly.

“It’s just you came down here from school and then I go, you know. I wish you’d said yes and come with us.”

“And third-wheeling you and Amy for ten days?” you giggled. “Dad, it’s okay. Come on. We’ll still have the weekend together when you come back.”

You heard Amy call for your father from downstairs, followed by a question about his dress shirt. You grinned, gesturing for him to go.

“Me and Amy will make sure the fridge is full, okay?” he says, voice fading as he steps down the stairs. You shook your head. You’ve survived on dry ramens and day-old coffees in college. You would be okay. Right?

Loud buzzer sound. The game show on the TV you put on to distract yourself from the fever is not doing a good job. You try to focus, but the noises coming out of it sound muffled, and the colors are just so bright and saturated that they make your head spin. You click on mute before slamming the remote on the coffee table, and it lands safely on some crumpled Kleenex. A thermometer is sitting next to the box, the tiny display screen blank. It’s broken, and you make a mental note to scold your father for always keeping faulty things around the house as if he’s going to fix them. A few bottles of pills you fished out of your father’s medicine cabinet to at least ease your aching muscles are toppled next to a half-empty Nyquil Nighttime Relief bottle with its cap screwed but crooked.

You second-guess your decision to let your father know that you’re unwell. But again, he hates surprises, so letting him know that he might find your rotting corpse in front of his TV when he gets back is, perhaps, doing him a favor.

It’s dark in the living room, and the leather couch is sticking to your sweaty leg. You should probably put sweatpants and a hoodie on instead of biker shorts and a stretched out shirt that looks more like a rag than a proper clothing item. But climbing the stairs now? No, thank you.

You shift your body, trying to find the best position to fall asleep in since the wrong angle seems to block your nasal passage. A groan leaves your throat when you can’t pull the fleece blanket to cover your body. You find out you are sitting on both ends of it. To hell with it.

You blink slowly. The Nyquil seems to start working. Can’t sneeze or cough if you’re knocked out, you think. You close your eyes, the colors from the TV somehow find their way in and flash washed-out red, white, yellow behind your eyelids. You’re too tired to reach for the remote.

Maybe you’ll feel better when you wake up.

You jolt when something cold makes contact with your forehead. Within microseconds, you yeet the thing away hysterically, hitting yourself in the process. The thing flies and lands on the wooden floor with a wet, thwap sound.

“Easy, easy,”

If it was just a little bit not so sudden and confusing and designed to constrict your blood vessels until your organs fail, you would have yelped. You nearly snap your neck trying to find the source of the voice, and your tense shoulders fall as quickly as they were raised when you notice the familiar face belonging to a broad frame standing next to the couch.

It’s Joel Miller.

Of course it’s him. Your father likely has him on speed dial.

He and your father go way back. Went to the same school, crushed on the same girls, hit the same bong, and so on. They were even in a band together. Your father has pictures of them from years ago, with greasy hair, earrings, bass and drumsticks in their hands. Cringe.

Well, just your father. Not Joel though.

You haven’t seen him in like, what, a year? And yet he looks good as ever. Well, Joel has always looked good his whole life. When you saw the pictures of him from high school you thought, Oh Fuck, I Would Totally Have A Crush On This Guy. And then you had to sit in silence and ponder, because, well, you are having a crush on this guy. Sort of. Maybe.

He bends over to pick up the thing you just yeeted on the floor, which is apparently a washcloth, and dunk it in a basin on the side table, which is now clean from all the stuff that was previously there.

“Joel,” you chirp. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he smiles as he squeezes the washcloth. Beads of water come trickling down his knuckles back to the basin, gleaming in front of the still-turned-on TV.  “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. What time is this?” you straighten up, rummaging around the blanket to find your phone to no avail.

“One-thirty. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Your old man asked me to check on you." He folds the cloth in two and dab it before stepping closer and pressing it against your forehead, nice and cold. His other hand supports your head from the back, basically cradling your skull.

“Your front door was unlocked when I came in.” says Joel, as if you are capable of digesting any kind of information at the moment. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “And sorry my Dad made you come here. You didn’t have to, it’s not so bad.”

“Come on, it’s only a ten minute drive. ‘S okay. I checked your forehead. Not too bad, but still a fever, y’know. You took the Nyquil?”

The thought of Joel Miller touching your forehead with his palm in the dark while you were asleep somehow makes the neurons in your brain stop interlinking for a second. Were you sleeping with your mouth open the whole time? You knew you did fall asleep that way since you couldn’t breathe through your nose. Man.

“I did.” you nod, shaking the thought away. You feel your lungs tighten, though. Another coughing fit incoming.

“Good,” Joel presses his hand to your forehead again as if trying to make sure the wet washcloth is properly glued onto your face. The soft pressure disrupts your composure and you cough like a machine gun submerged in a container full of Elmer’s glue, hacking up thick mucus up your throat. Joel leaves your side with hurried steps and, within seconds, somehow has a paper cup under your chin for you to spit into.

You try to grab the cup, flustered, but he doesn’t let go and instead helps you sit up straight, patting your back.

“Spit.” he says as you wheeze with phlegm in your mouth like an imbecile. You awkwardly grab his wrist for support and spit the mucus out into the cup. Soon you’ll realize how foolish it is to grab someone’s wrist using the same hand you used to cover your mouth while coughing. The string of saliva takes a ridiculously long time to break free from your lips, but Joel is unfazed. He takes a glance at the mucus, likely checking the color and consistency.

“Thanks,” you blink rapidly, still processing.

“You wanna go to urgent care?” Joel asks.

“Nu-uh,” you shake your head. “I’m okay, I promise. I feel a lot better already.”

“It’s probably just a bug,” he pats your back again before walking to the kitchen to dispose of the cup. “How long has it been going on?”

You wait until he comes back because you don’t think you can speak loud enough for him to be able to hear you from the kitchen without tearing your throat apart. Joel thinks you didn’t hear him the first time and is about to repeat his question when you say, “Uh, it got progressively worse last night.” you realize how serious that sounds and quickly add, “But not like, worse worse. I mean, compared to,”

“And before that?”

“Just a scratchy throat.”

He looks like he’s mentally taking notes with arms folded in front of his stomach. It’s the first time that night you take a full look at him under the glow of the muted TV. You can’t really make the colors out, but he’s wearing a dark t-shirt under an unbuttoned flannel shirt and jeans. He’s keeping his beard kind of thin compared to the last time you saw him, but still the same, well-tended mustache that makes a strong presence over his lips. You can’t help but notice the graying strands of hair that stick out among his dark, messy hair, complimenting him so well. You are pretty sure the ratio between light to dark hair has been shooting up this year. You like it.

And his eyes. They’re rich, and dark, and the fact that he furrows half of the time that it creates permanent dents between his eyebrows just makes him ridiculously hotter.

The mucus factory must be working overtime tonight because you can feel the slight slippery feeling of lubrication where you’re sitting. Fucking stupid, you think, read the room.

All of sudden, a lightning flashes, lighting up your surroundings before the grumbling roar of thunder follows through. For a second, you can make out the shapes and silhouettes of everything in the room like a photograph. Joel fits rightly in the left third of this main piece in your mind exhibition. You wish you could take screenshots with your eyes and keep it to admire later.

Joel glances out the window. Heat lightning reveals the blobs of clouds outside, and the strong wind is starting to blow debris to rattle the windows. He shifts his focus on you again. “Did you eat?”

“I’m okay,” you shrug. Storm is coming, Joel better go home before it gets worse.

He chuckles. “Yes or no?”

That chuckle tickles something deep inside of you. You smile shyly. “Yes, Joel. I’m okay.”

Joel stares at you, and you are pretty sure he senses that you did not, in fact, eat dinner. “I’m starvin’, actually,” he gets up and takes his flannel shirt off, and then tosses it on the couch before making his way towards the kitchen. You scream internally at the sight of his biceps like a deranged fangirl.

“Mind if I take a look in the fridge?” he yells while opening the fridge door. Just being polite. He knows your father will let him dismantle the house and take the pieces home if he wants to.

You free the tangled blanket from around your legs, only noticing now how under your old, sweat-dampened, Marlin Club shirt, your nipples are as erect as fireman’s poles. Was it the temperature, Joel, or both, you can’t conclude.

Joel whistles when he finds that the fridge is full. He grabs a can of beer and pops it open, studying the contents of the fridge and thinking of what he can cook for you as he gulps the beer down.

You follow him to the kitchen, jump to sit on the kitchen island as Joel grabs some produce off the fridge and sets them next to you. He looks at you, blinks a couple of times, then occupies himself with the food cabinet over the counter. You try to be helpful by unwrapping the basil and cherry tomatoes.

“So, how’s school?” Joel breaks the silence as he washes his hands. “And don’t just say okay, please.”

“You got me there,” you laugh. “Nothing really amusing, really.”

Then a few more superficial, classic-catching-up questions while you both prepare the pesto. Joel asks about the trip to Italy, how your father mentioned proposing to Amy soon, what do you think about that. You ask about his brother Tommy, work, and the average cost to renovate a room, to which Joel answers in detail really nicely. Then come the usual do-you-remember-when stories, melting down the strange and awkward atmosphere between the two of you. Laughters fill up the room. It’s fun and familiar.

“Did you remember when you used to call me Uncle Joel?” Joel sneers as he tosses a pan to the sink. “You used to be so nice and polite.”

“I was like six!” You snorted. “And you can’t even pay me to call you that again, Joel.”

Then, the once-your-pops-and-I anecdotes. You’ve heard some of them from your own father’s mouth, but you still listen to Joel’s versions eagerly anyway.

At one point, you start to cough again so Joel instructs you to just sit down on the counter. You don’t complain—it means you can just sit back and watch him from the back and imagine how it would feel to run your fingers through his hair.

When Joel stirs the pasta with the pesto sauce, the weather has gone full-blown insane out there.

“You should stay the night,” you try to sound as nonchalant as possible. His presence is sending arrays of erroneous signals to your reproductive organs, which will most likely result badly if he stays, but how can you let him drive home in this kind of weather?

Joel hands you a fork and pushes a plate of fusilli for you to eat. “Eh, we’ll see,” he shrugs. “I don’t mind drivin’ through a storm, but I can’t just leave you alone if you don’t feel well.”

“Dad told me you got a folded chair smashed through your windshield last summer.” You take a bite, the thick sauce coats your tastebuds and you groan in satisfaction, even though you can’t really taste it to the fullest because of your stuffy nose.

“Oh, yeah, that.” Joel chuckles. “I was lucky it aimed for the shotgun.”

He eats standing up across you, one elbow on the counter. When you both finish the meal, he takes your plate and starts washing the dishes. You tell him to do it later, and then offer your help, and he says no to both. You insist on drying the dishes anyway, standing side by side with him.

After the very late dinner, the two of you retreat to the living room. Joel asks you to take some medication again and you decline, stating that you feel better already.

“Headstrong, ain’t ya?” Joel sighs. “Okay, sleep then. Wanna sleep in your bed?”

“Not really sleepy,” you shake your head. “Feel free to take Dad’s bed, by the way. You have work in the morning, right?”

“Nah, I’m alright by the couch.” Joel scoots to make room for his legs and lies on his back, groaning like every other old person when they finally get to be horizontal. His feet are dangling on one side, his head on the opposite armrest. You take the old recliner that doesn’t even recline anymore near Joel’s feet, facing both the TV and Joel at an angle.

The TV is still on, showing the same game show but already on a later season. You unmute it and watch it together with Joel for five minutes before you realize that none of you has laughed yet, and you ask Joel if he wants to watch a movie instead. He says why not.

You open a streaming service and browse for movies on the home page. Joel probably likes action and other classic old man genre types. You pretend to read some of the summaries and see if Joel perks up at one of them, but he doesn’t seem to really care about the TV.

“I don’t know what to watch,” you admit. “Do you wanna pick the movie?”

Truth is, Joel can’t give a single shit about no goddamn movie. He’s been distracted by so many thoughts in his mind. But he gestures for you to scroll back up anyway.  “Let’s see the trending ones.”

You stop at a tally of newly released and currently popular films at the top of the page, giving Joel a chance to read about them before moving to the next one.

“This one looks excitin’.” Joel points at the screen. The poster shows a man in classic Viking attire, staring intently at the viewer with striking blue eyes. Some kind of pelt is draped over his shoulders. His hands are on top of each other, resting on a sword handle, the blade facing the earth. Dried mud and blood are splattered over his face and armor. The Conquest, it says. You don’t recognize the actors listed. The summary says something about revenge, passion, blood, power, blah blah. You click play.

The movie opens with a battle scene. The movie looks like it runs out of lighting budget, and you need to squint to be able to tell what they are actually doing. Nothing can be heard except grunts and blades clashing. You look over at Joel to see his expression, but he’s looking at you. He quickly averts his gaze back to the screen.

Twenty minutes pass, and none of you are really paying attention to the plot. Not until the main guy enters a wooden tub filled with steaming hot water with his asscheeks out, and then a woman enters the scene with nothing but a thin white veil covering her body. She drops the cloth and joins him. The warm light from the torches is highlighting her breasts.

“Woah,” you look at Joel again, but he says nothing, but you can see his Adam’s apple moving awkwardly.

They kiss, and he grabs her bosom with his humongous palms and knead them. Then he buries his face between them, with the woman kissing the top of his head. After what feels like a millenia, he lifts her lower half from the water, and then puts her down to sit on the edge of the tub before performing cunnilingus. She moans.

You start to feel a pool of heat brewing inside of you. This feels invasive of their privacy, somehow, with no soundtrack added, just fire crackling and water splashing and erotic moaning.

Joel clears his throat. “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t watch this,”

“You’re the one who picked the movie.” you say, eyes fixated on the screen.

“Well, it didn’t say nothin’ about eatin’ a lady out in the summary.”

He reaches for the remote and turns the TV off, leaving only the sound of rain hitting your window in your eardrums.

“Hey,” you whine. “That’s not nice. I didn’t say yes.”

“It’s late. Go to sleep.” Joel folds his arms over his chest, partly staying warm, partly because he’s so flustered he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He then closes his eyes, knowing damn well he’s far from feeling tired let alone fall asleep.

“We’re both adults anyways,” you mutter, but Joel doesn’t move. He’s probably actually tired.

Your gaze is affixed on him. He surely doesn’t look like he’s sleeping in peace right now but he’s still handsome nonetheless. His old shirt is a tad bit too tight around his biceps. You can see the protruding veins beautifully decorating his arms and hands. His legs are slightly crossing with one ankle on top of another, and his breath is steady. He’s gorgeous.

In your wildest dreams, you would jump to straddle Joel, and he would grab your hips and fuck you to death. Is it bad that your immune system is fighting one of the worst battles in your life, and yet your number one priority is somehow to get laid, by this man specifically? It’s both excruciating and foolish. 

The movie you just saw doesn’t help, either. In fact, it makes everything worse. Your mind keeps wandering back to it, the way the man eats the woman out, and then back to Joel, imagining the top of his head would look like when he eats you out. Fuck. You know that if you don’t get to touch this man in the next 30 minutes, you are either going to combust or burn everything in the vicinity.

You close your eyes, try to do the mindfulness practice you once saw in a magazine. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. You repeat “Release me from this earthly desire” in your head like a rookie buddhist wizard trying to cast a spell with a broken wand. You ball your fists in your lap so hard the joints start to hurt.

It’s not working.

Your mind keeps wandering back to different scenarios, different positions, different spots around the house. Low grunts, fingertips pressing your sides, tongue between your lips…

You can’t do it anymore. You need release. You need to at least be able to feel something, a little reward for your throbbing clit. Trying your best to be as casual as possible, you pull your folded legs closer to your body, your left heel even closer to your biker-short-covered cunt, and shift your body weight on it.

The pleasure that has been building up there bursts like a balloon. You sigh.

There are two things that Joel is not: young, and oblivious.

Oh, he is totally aware of what’s happening. You are not doing a good job trying to be subtle. From the non-stop staring, to the constant fidgeting, to the borderline sexual sighs, to the hard nipples, Joel knows you are going through something that is completely different from just being ill.

And he totally understands. He’s been there, done that. There was a time when his back wasn’t hurting and his face hadn’t been ‘graced’ with crow’s feet and age spots yet, when his hormones were at all-time high and his blood liked nothing more than flowing to his cock recklessly at the slightest inducement. He understands what you are going through.

So when you start grinding yourself onto your left heel followed by soft moans, he is not exactly surprised, just mostly in awe of your debauched audacity.

That is too much, even for him. He clears his throat, hoping you’d catch the hint and stop for good. But you don’t, and your eyes are closed and your eyebrows are knitted together in concentration, and your hips are moving slowly, sensually, chasing something, the sight of it stirs something up in his guts.

It is vulgar, and most importantly indecent in every way, but Joel can feel his own arousal creeping up no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that it is not happening.

He calls your name. Your body responds faster than the critically thinking part of your brain and you stop like you just got cursed by Medusa. 

You can physically feel your heart drop to your ass. Your neck moves stiffly to find his eyes like a broken animatronic. “Yeah?” you croak.

“Do you think I don’t know what you’re doin’?”

You blink. Deny? Act stupid? Admit? Deny, deny. Wait, deny? No, act stupid.

“What… Do you mean?” you say, and you realize that you chose the dialogue option that actually sounds the dumbest.

Joel clicks his tongue. “Might as well hump me if you want it that much.”

Wait, what? Your eyes light up. “Really?”

Joel stares at you in genuine perplexity before lifting one hand up to massage his temples. He takes a deep breath, and in the softest way possible—like telling a puppy she can’t eat electronic parts—sighs, “No.”

“Oh,” you cover your mouth. “I thought you meant—“

“Yeah, yeah. My bad.” he sighs again, sounding significantly more frustrated. He then uses his hands to support himself to a sitting position, composing himself.

Silence. You don’t dare to look at Joel, but your cunt keeps pulsing like a metal detector. You understand that the beeping—desire—will not die down unless you get the valuable artefact from the bronze age—Joel—in your hand. Is this time to be bold and brash?

“Joel,” you call, and you can swear that was not a sober decision, but the stage curtains have been pulled back, and you are pushed to the stage to play your part.

“Hm?”

“What if… I hump you anyway?” you stand up, and your knees are slightly buckling but you act tough and bold regardless.

Joel’s jaws opens and stays slightly agape for a while before he says, “That fever is really messin’ with your brain, huh? Sit down.”

“You’re bricked up, Joel.” you accuse. You don’t actually know for sure since Joel keeps a hand on his lap to cover his crotch, but Joel gulps. Gotcha.

“Unrelated to you.” he hisses in defense.

You scoff.

“Joel, please,” you grouse, voice cracking and desperate. “I want this so bad.” you whisper as you take slow, threatening steps towards Joel until your crotch is not even an inch away from his knee. “I want you so bad.”

“This ain’t right, kid.” Joel puts a hand on the outer side of your arm, and it’s worth pointing out that he’s shaking. “You know that.”

Joel doesn’t tell you that he’s battling demons in his head, and he’s currently losing. A million impulses are catapulting burning boulders onto the gate of his conscience, and all he got is one bleeding, sickly troop with a chipped wooden sword. But he puts his best stern expression despite the fact that his body is betraying him.

He could leave now. Push you away. Clear his head. Come back later. Or not come back at all.

But he knows he doesn’t want to. He can hear his blood rushing and his heart singing battle cry. Not to mention his cock, hard and nearly burns a hole through his jeans.

A long pause. You want to push him further, but you know you don’t need to. The black marlin printed on your shirt does a worthless attempt at distracting Joel from your hard nipples, putting him into a trance.

Joel takes a deep breath. He knows he has lost. “You can help yourself, that’s all,” he nods, more trying to convince himself rather than talking to you. “Just to make you shut up and get rest. That’s it.”

That’s an unenthusiastic barf-colored green light, but it is a green light nonetheless.

You put your hands on Joel’s shoulder before putting your left knee next to his right leg and lower yourself down onto his thigh, while your other knee rests in front of his crotch and presses onto his raging hard-on. Your cunt pulsates in pleasure upon contact, and you let out a gasp. Joel anxiously places his hands on your sides to keep you steady, one thumb ‘accidentally’ brushing your nipple, earning a whine. You lock gaze with him, and start moving.

The friction sends buzzes up your head. You make each grind count, and every single one feels like heaven despite the layers of fabric between your cunt and his beefy thigh. Moans and Joel’s name spill from your lips indeliberately, and he tightens his grip on your body until his fingertips turn white as if you would fly away with a gust of wind if he doesn’t. If you weren’t so absorbed in your own pleasure, you would’ve noticed how shallow and rapid Joel’s breath has become. It turns him on watching you getting off because of him, using him, how your eyelids flutter and your pupils are having a hard time staying in place.

Joel wants to break free from his denim, badly. While he consciously thought, planned, and stated that he’s doing what he’s doing only for your satisfaction and be done with it, it isn’t exactly nice having your kneecap pushing button-flies shaped caves on his crotch repeatedly. Especially not when his cock, which probably has its own brain, has been begging to be taken care of, too.

You, on the other side, are having the best time of your life. As your climax is building up in your south region, you smile at Joel, who smiles back. His hand leaves your ribs briefly to brush the hair that is sticking to your sweaty forehead away from your face.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod weakly. “So good, Joel, so good,”

For a moment there you consider kissing him. His face is merely two inches away from you, and he looks ravishing, all sweaty and blushing. And how you just want to have your tongue inside his mouth, his lips all over yours sloppily. But that feels like overstepping boundaries, like a whole uncharted area you can’t cross, spreading the flu aside. You opt to put your chin on his shoulder instead, trying to focus on your orgasm.

“I want to see your face,” Joel says in your ear, his beard grazing your cheek. Takes you three whole seconds to process that, and when you do, it tingles your core. Before you can answer, he continues, “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You pull back, meeting his gaze with flushing cheeks. You don’t know what to say, and maybe you don’t have to. You continue to be dumbfounded when Joel stops your motion and helps you to stand up.

“Hold on,” he says as he undoes the buttons of his jeans. “I need to take these off.”

He quickly kicks the jeans off his legs, revealing a dark gray boxer briefs under. A wet patch adorns the bulge right in the center. He then manspreads and gestures for you to come back onto him, to which you comply. “C’mere,” he says, “I need to feel you on me.”

You straddle him, positioning your cunt right on his cock, and on everybody and their mother, it feels good. No, it feels right. Joel lets out a groan that cuts into a gasp when you start to grind. “Fuck, yeah,” he grabs your ass, helping you settle on a rhythm.

The contour of Joel’s cock, albeit still covered by the fabric of his boxer briefs, touches every last nerve ending of your cunt in such a different way that his thigh did. You pick your pace up, getting the pleasure to build up again. 

“Joel, I’m gonna come,” you moan, voice quivering. You rake your fingers through his hair, your noses almost touching.

“Keep going, baby,” he says through a smile. “Don’t hold back. You sound so pretty.”

The encouragement is shooting up fireworks in your lower belly, and you start making more sounds. You’re close. So close.

“Makin’ me so hard all night, you,”

You whimper as you come, hips convulsing. Time slows down, and it feels like your cunt is pulled towards a strong gravitational force within your own body as you are sinking down a quicksand, all while pleasure forces your brain to reboot itself.

“That’s it, that’s it. There you go. You’re so good.”

Joel holds the back of your head while you’re laying on his chest, limp. When you pull yourself away from him, he presses a palm to your cheek, smiling. “Attagirl.”

When you finally gather yourself, you pull away from Joel, leaving a huge wet spot on where you just had your cunt on, and scoot to the spot next to him on the couch. You are about to lean onto his shoulder when he stands up and picks his jeans up from the floor. He sees the wet trail of arousal you left on the fabric in the thigh area and snickers.

“Damn, kid, you’re practically a snail,” he points to it. “Poor thing.”

You wince. “What are you doing?”

“Puttin’ my pants on?” he answers in the exact same tone, fixing the position of his boxer briefs.

“But you haven’t even come yet!” you protest. “What the fuck? Take them off!”

“That’s not what I agreed to, remember? I help you come so you’ll shut up and sleep. You’ve come, now shut up, and go to sleep.” he lays it out like basic math while you press the base of your palms onto your eyelids, confounded.

“You’re a sick person,” you shake your head, and then point to his crotch. “You’re literally still hard.”

“That has nothin’ to do with anythin’.”

You stare at the open space, like you’re trying to break the fourth wall in a sitcom. Can you believe this guy?

“Joel, your line is ‘I’m going to fuck you so hard.’ Now let’s start again from the top.”

Joel, who’s struggling trying to fit his bulge back in the jeans without hurting it, stops fussing with his button-fly shortly to push your head back—softly—to the couch. “Sleep,” he drags his palm over your face to close your eyelids.

“Joooooel,”

“Your line is ‘Yes, Joel, good night.’”

“Yes, Uncle Joel, good night, Uncle Joel,” you mock as you swiftly jump from the couch and pull his jeans down to his ankle and force him to step out of it. You hear Joel yelling hey, hey, hey as he tries to simultaneously fight you and not hurt you. You throw the pair of pants across the room with all your might and it lands with a loud thud.

“What are your pants made of, steel?”

“What is wrong with you?” he takes a step to fetch it, but you stand up and push him back to the couch. Joel is for sure going easy on you, because if he wanted to, he could definitely launch you through the walls. Instead, he just accepts his fate and stares at the ceiling, defeated.

“Nobody sleeps with jeans on, Joel,” you reach for the TV remote again. “Now let’s watch something again and then sleep.”

“We’re not watching the viking movie again.”

“We’re not watching the viking movie again,” you repeat. “We’re watching SpongeBob.”

Joel groans.

“What, you don’t like SpongeBob?”

“Not my era,” Joel says. “I watched Gumby. Tom and Jerry. The Muppet Show.”

“No wonder you act like the heckling old guys.”

“I don’t, but, sure,”

“Oh, you’re more like the eagle. So serious all the time.”

Joel rolls his eyes. You play the first episode of the first season of SpongeBob Squarepants, and the familiar intro begins. You take a look at Joel in the corner of your eyes, how he has one of his forearm on the top of his head, bicep almost as thick as his head. The other hand is resting on his thigh, and you can tell that he’s at least still half-hard. You wonder how he looks under those boxer briefs.

On the screen, Squidward and Mr. Krabs are climbing a post with a sea of raging anchovies under them. Joel’s lips slightly turn upward. Ha, eat that, Mr. Old Cartoon Head.

You shift so that you’re on your back, legs resting on Joel’s lap. He gives you a look, but doesn’t say anything. Minutes later, totally absorbed with SpongeBob pestering his neighbor with a reef blower, he has a hand on your ankle, caressing it without much thought.

They would have written about you in a Greek tragedy the way you’re consumed by greed and lust. When your toes stroke Joel’s bulge, totally by accident and not precalculated at all, you pretend like you’re captivated by the TV. It’s hard and you can definitely discern the ridge of possible veins and the head of his cock.

Joel exhales, sounding so done and tired.  “I know you were going to do this,”

But he doesn’t push you away. And that excites you.

You don’t say anything or look away from the screen, but you keep rubbing the outline of his cock, which is now more visible and grows slightly larger, with the space between your big and index toe. Your brain automatically puts the ice clinking in a vase while SpongeBob is getting dry under Sandy’s treedome as background noise to amplify Joel’s restrained grunts.

You like this. You like having Joel wrapped around your finger. Soon after, you withdraw your legs and sit up, causing him to open his eyes over the sudden halt.

You stare at him, bold. “Would you like my mouth?”

Joel nods.

You don’t even wait for a second. Joel helps you take off his boxer briefs, the length of his hard-on springs out like jack-in-the-box. You admire how it looks, how the tip is totally sticky and glistening, before lowering your tongue. Joal lets out a sound akin to a whimper as you let your saliva ooze down the underside of his cock and quickly retrieve it into your mouth using your tongue. He tastes slightly salty, like sweat. And if you could smell better you’d see how hypnotizing his scent is, like calling you to stick his cock down your throat until the world collapses.

“That’s it,” Joel says, out of breath. His cock is now grazing the soft wall of your cheek, and he wonders how experienced you actually are because you definitely don’t act like an amateur. You use one elbow to support yourself, the other one taking turns massaging his balls and the base of his cock.

The only downside of this is that Joel can’t really look at your face. He craves the sight of you, how your lips are wrapped around his cock, and how your cheek is bulging like a squirrel full of him. One of his hands crawls up your back under your shirt, rubbing it before it finds a new target: your breasts. He kneads on one, thumb flicking the bud. You can’t help but moan and take him deeper, sending vibrations from your throat to his cock.

Joel knows he won’t last much longer, and he would very much like to keep this thing going as long as possible. So he asks you to stop, averting your disappointment by lifting up your shirt and sucking on one nipple. He’s surprisingly tender with it, taking his time. You reach a hand to his cock again, trying to at least get him off with your hand, but he pulls your wrists back and locks them on your sides.

“Joel,” you whine. “Fuck me. Please.”

“No can do,” Joel answers as his lips are trailing down to your stomach, where he peppers kisses all over. You scoot backwards and like reading your mind, he tugs the hem of your shorts down to your ankle before yanking it away, revealing your throbbing, desperate cunt. He then dives down, nose pressing against your mound as his tongue explores the new treasure island.

Just like in the movie.

You try to grab on something, anything, but the leather couch does nothing but squeaks, and Joel instinctively laces his fingers with yours. The view of the top of your head is exactly how you imagined it would be. The moans released from your lips are rather loud, especially when Joel creates a suction cup with his lips right on your clit.

“Joel, Joel,” you grasp his hands with all your might. “This is fucking unfair, I’m so— I’m gonna—”

Before you get to finish your sentence, your body already decides that it’s time for another release. Your heels are planted firmly against the couch as your hips lift to the air, and Joel lets go. He kneels before your cunt, pumps himself to oblivion and comes all over you before you get to collect yourself, staining your stomach and breasts. Later you’ll realize that the first spurt went a little bit rogue and landed on your hair.

“Fuck you, man,” you complain, sticking out a middle finger at him. “I was supposed to make you come.”

Joel rests his head on the couch armrest, eyes closed. “You did.”

“I meant technically,” you attempt to nudge him with your leg, but he dodges and stands up to grab the washcloth he used to compress you with earlier. He then wipes your stomach and breasts with it, the cold water making you squirm.

“What now?” you ask when he hands you your clothes.

“Sleep. It’s four in the mornin’.” he says as he puts his stained, sticky, wet boxer briefs on and sits on the recliner. So you can’t drive me mad anymore, he says.

You whine, but you realize that your eyelids are actually very heavy. “Blowjob first time in the morning?” you offer before letting yourself drift off.

“Thought you were s’pposed to be sick.” Joel shakes his head. But he grins.

[ramonathinks]

Say His Name | SUKUNA

Say his name three times and he shall appear, fucking virgins before he disappear.

tags: (18+, minors and ageless blogs dni) corruption, virginity loss, monster-fucking, double cocks, mouth fucking, pet names (pet, my human, female), oral(f! receiving), handjobs, nipple play, fingering, creampies, copious amounts of cum, tummy bulge, sex in sukuna’s domain, overstimulation, mirror sex

notes: early i did originally plan an entire kinktober but lol (18+ banner/divider made by @/cafekitsune. repost from my first ever kinktober 🥂

“SUKUNA, SUKUNA, SUKUNA.” Call it childish for believing in such tales. But you wanted it to be true. Looking in the darkly lit bathroom of your dorm bathroom you groaned, blowing the candle out. You flipped the light switch back on.

You’d been hearing about it all year. But you should’ve known better than to believe a silly little legend like this. But you were a blushing and bubbling mess of a virgin. So hearing of some mysterious sexy man who fucks virgins with no strings attached seemed too good to be true and you just had to test this theory. But really you should’ve known better. You were too old to believe in such things but you were all dolled up just for him.

You’d been waiting until everyone on your floor was gone and you put on your best and sexiest lingerie. You weren’t expecting to wear this for such a man that everyone has described but you were ready. You were thinking maybe for a boy who’s eventually won your heart you’d wear this to give yourself away.

Your hair was down in a medium length silk press, wearing puffy pink ugg slides and a short pink fuzzy nightgown that hugged every inch of your body, amplifying your busty breast all for show. You even went with no panties.

All for him.

All for a no show.

Sighing, you reached for your shower caddy and got prepared to wrap your hair.

But a deep chuckle from behind, startled you. Every fiber in your being was begging you not to turn around. Your stomach clutching with a sense of fear and your mouth running dry.

“Little human.” His voice alone had you shaking but surprisingly it wasn’t all just fear, something else deep inside, something not so pure filled your body. Lust. You were still too afraid to look at him, your knees growing weak as he continued to speak.

“Too scared to turn around but all dolled up just for me. I can practically smell your sweet nectar from here.” He purred, his breath on your neck and you could feel the warmth of his body heat all over you. “I haven’t even touched you yet.” Taking his tongue, he licked up your ear before biting your lobe. “I could smell how sweet you are even before I got here. I couldn’t believe how delectable you smelled.” With hard hands, he softly grasped both of your breasts.

You released a small yelp with such surprise but your tummy fluttered. “Oh, my little human likes that…” He took note, pressed hot kisses against your neck. Squeezing your breast. With rough hands he stroked your nipples until they grew hard.

You were letting him have his way with you and you still hadn’t even seen his face. You moaned when you felt the soft drag of his claws, tugging at your gown.

“Tell me how badly you like my touch female…or I might just stop.” He pressed his hips into yours, allowing you to feel just how hard he was. “Don’t you want my cocks?” His voice was laced with something unfamiliar, he pressed his nose in your hair and did a quick inhale.

Desire pooled in your belly whenever he talked. “C-cocks?” You squealed. “I… I don’t think I can handle such a thing…” You muttered, trying to move away from him, keeping your eyes trained on your feet.

“Look at me.” He gripped your jaw in his fingers and forced your eyes to the mirror. Your pussy clenched against nothing when you saw his face. He was truly a beautiful demonic man. With sharp teeth and dark eyes that ate up your entire figure. There was colorful dark markings over his face and a sickening grin on his lips when he noticed you staring so hard. His spiked pink hair looked so soft that you wanted to pet him. “You desire is all in the air,” His told you. “Let me please you, my little human.”

“W-wait! I-um…” Your voice was hoarse and completely choked out as you stuttered, trying to find any excuse.

“You wish to deny me this?” He palmed your pussy. Dragging his hand all over the mound before trailing lower. “You are truly ravishing… in all these places.” You we’re panting and hanging on to every word he spoke, opening your thighs wider so he can feel you.

“Tell me…beg me…” His hand ran down lower, inching closer and closer towards your puffy clit.

Then he pulled away.

It was awful and your body felt cold, you even almost tripped over yourself, to which he chuckled. “Why did you st—”

Pressing his hot lips to yours he kissed you, squeezing your ass and adding his tongue. His tongue was sucking and sliding in every inch of your mouth, you could barely breathe. It felt so long and so deep, almost like he was in your throat. “I want you to beg me for my touch, I know you want it… so beg for it, or you won’t get it.” He said as he pulled away, drool on the corner of his mouth.

“Please…touch…me…” You forced the words he wanted to hear out. “I want your fingers, your tongue, your…cocks.” You whimpered a deep pout on your lips. He smiled at your honesty and he clipped your lingerie down with his claws in one swift motion.

His thumb caressed your folds softly and he groaned watching the wetness drip to the floor. Slipping one finger inside, you gasped, holding on to his wrist and grinding down a bit. Loud squelching noises filling the air every time he pushed in a bit deeper. “Tight little thing. All for me.” He dropped to his knees and licked his lips once he spread your folds open.

“Pretty little pearl.” He rasped before taking it in his mouth. Your hips buckled and thrashed against his face, your moans echoing and bouncing off the walls. He added another finger, hard. Slamming them both inside of you, stretching you wide. So much cream and slick ran down your thighs, he pumped faster inside of you.

Both of his cocks were leaking and aching but all he could think about was your pussy and just how good it taste. He groaned with his eyes closed, spreading his fingers inside as you sobbed above him.

“Please, please…” He didn’t know what you were begging for. He sucked, putting his entire mouth on you, licking up and down your sensitive clit. He pressed deep kisses before removing his fingers from your insides. He dipped his tongue deep inside of your tightness and he felt you tighten up, fisting your hand in his hair, rocking your hips.

“Sukuna!” Your eyes were filled with tears as he moaned for more of your virgin taste on his tongue. Hearing his name on your tongue had him throbbing but he resisted touching himself — wanting only to come in your tight pure virgin body.

“I’m going to— ah.” Your body snapped and shook but he continued to feast on your insides, his long tongue hitting all your sensitive spots and every muscle, you came around his tongue and he welcomed everything you gave him. Your walls fluttered against his tongue and your hands grabbed even deeper into his hair, toes curling and small sniffles filling the room.

He placed his tongue back to your sore clit and gave it a few more sucks before he smirked up at you, the pretty noises still in your throat as you tried your hardest to be quiet. Looking up at you with such desire that you felt yourself shrinking. “I was waiting so long for you…” He told you, standing to his full height. “Don’t know if I can let you go this time…”

You didn’t understand. You were still reeling down from such an orgasm. He inhaled against your neck. “Pretty little human. I’m not going to let you out of my sight. Too precious.” He took your lips again and you closed your eyes deeply, gripping his arm as you tasting yourself on his tongue.

When you finally pulled back and opened your eyes, you didn’t know where you were. All darkness surrounded you, dimly lit candles and a beautifully made canopy bed with dark sheets. You could see some sort of throne in the other part of this dark place, which took up almost the entirety of that space. The room seemed to go on forever, almost endless. You felt empty, he wasn’t there anymore. Confusion bled through your mind until you felt him take your hand, dragging you to the bed.

“What did you mean… with what you said moments ago?” You swallowed, trying not to look him in the eyes. But those deep red eyes made it almost too hard to do that. He stared you down before pushing you down to the bed.

“It means you’re mine. All mine.” His hot tongue trailed down your neck and it burned you, your weak legs thrusting against him. He lowered his hips flush against yours and you could feel just how big and thick his cocks were, it was almost disgusting how badly you wanted them. He sniffed and did a devilish grin at you. “Why fight it? You called me here. I have you. Don’t tell me you’re still scared… I won’t hurt you.” He promised.

The way his eyes held such sincerity you couldn’t look away. The flimsy material he wore, slipped off and you got a glimpse of everything he was hiding from you. The rippling abs and those dark marks similar to the ones on his face, you could feel yourself leaking when your eyes drifted to the pretty cocks he possessed.

Throbbing and veiny. Angry red tips coded in leaking creamy pre-cum. You didn’t mean to but you licked your lips and he groaned in your ear: “Female, it looks like you want to taste my cocks…” More pre-cum dripped down and you were panting at the sight, something coming over you. With a trembling hand, you reached out between you both and gripped the base of one, he twitched in your hand but you didn’t stop your assault.

He was thick. You couldn’t imagine doing this to both of his cocks at the same time, you needed both of your hands just to cover just one of them. He thrusted his hips upward, sliding himself through your hands with strained moments. He didn’t want to cum, only wanted it to be inside of you but fuck, this was heaven.

You stroked him, nice and slow. Feeling every bit of him and keeping your clouded eyes on his, both of your breathings harsh and in sync, hot and turned on. Rubbing your thumb on the tip, you watched as a bit more liquid leaked out, slipping between your hands.

“Knees. Now.” He rasped, he needed to be in your tight little mouth now. He needed it. You barley had time to move before he was thrusting himself inside of your mouth. “Fuck…ing, pretty little mouth.” He muttered, thrusting his hips harshly in and out of your mouth. His other cock begging for attention, you squeezed it hard and be released a beautiful moan continuing his rhythm.

Swallowing around him, he bellowed. “Fuck!” He had manners and didn’t want to mess up his female’s hair but he wanted you to take him deeper into your mouth. Pulling you slightly by your hair, he buried himself deeper into your mouth. Bucking his hips, you slid your mouth up and down — saliva covering his length — then you lapped at the tip, rubbing your mouth on it before slipping him back into your throat. Moaning around his cock, then you decided to switch to his other cock.

He was amazed and his toes were curling, watching you. He could see just how much of him was buried in your throat. He could hear the amount of sucking and slurping and you still had time to fondle his balls.

He was going to cum. He could feel it in the pits of his belly. Sweet moans leaving your mouth and he couldn’t take it anymore. With a deep groan, he pulled you flush to his hips and came deep inside of your mouth, his other cock jerking and spasming — raining cum on your face.

He looked at your cum splattered face and his cocks grew hard again and he knew the perfect way to end the night. “Need to be inside of you, now.” He didn’t want anything to stop him. He didn’t clean you off or anything, he wanted to fuck you as filthy and dirty as you looked.

And he would.

He pulled down your panties and looked at your leaking cunt. Smiling in delight, “All this just from sucking my cocks…naughty girl.” He lined up both of his cocks to your small hole.

“Both of them?!” You squealed with wide eyes. “They can’t both fit…” You swallowed hard and he did a roar of heavy laughter.

“Gonna just stretch you out with this one,” He rubbed his throbbing tip along your slippery glistening folds as you cried out. “Then once you’re all full, gonna add my other cock and make you cum all night, my little human.”

He lined himself back against your tight heat, almost slipping inside, he eyed your face before he thrusted forward and buried himself inside of your virgin flesh. Your nails were digging into him as you screamed, it hurt bad.

He was so massive inside of you and your walls wouldn’t let him go, clinging to him. “So damn tight.” He groaned, his hips snapped and with each thrust he was able to get deeper and deeper.

He couldn’t bare to look at you, hearing your small sniffles was hard enough. He wanted this pleasurable for you. His fingers were fast on their way to your little clit that was already throbbing for his attention, he pressed two of them against you and felt you roll your hips against his with a sharp moan, “Ah!”

He did a few sloppy thrust, his balls hitting the cusp of your ass and he could tell that you were feeling good based off how you were reacting. “Please make me cum.” You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. Now with a newer angle he pressed deep into a gooey wetness that had your tongue out and you squeezing his cock even better than before.

He slammed his cock inside of you, now going at any intense speed. Rocking his hips into yours, trying to hit your sweet spot again. He pressed deeper inside of you, bottoming out. “Say my name.” He told you, softly against your lips before claiming them. His thrust going hard and reckless, stretching you out.

You felt so full, he reached down and jerked his other cock. Squeezing the tip and continuing to thrust faster, rocking the bed. “Say my name.” He said again, his hips slamming down on yours. He felt heavy inside of you and you couldn’t focus on him, drowning in a warmth of endless pleasure.

He bucked his hips and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look up — to look into the mirror above you, watching yourself getting fucked before saying again: “Say my name.” This time annoyed and with a growl.

“Sukuna!” He pumped his cock inside of your little pussy, stretching it just for him and thrusting more — the hold your cunt had on his cock made him bite his lip when he withdrew himself slightly before slamming back inside.

Your eyes roll back when his tip hits your special spot again and your moans has him in a chokehold, “Sukuna, right there, please… again.” You arch your back and he grips your waist, pushing you back down into the mattress.

With a last long thrust, he fills your cervix with creamy cum that leaks out of you. His other cock bobbling before spraying you down as well, you clench around him for the final time and almost breathlessly you say his name again.

Body weak and your eyes fluttering. He pulls you closer to him and kisses your lips.

“My little human stuffed with my cum.” He purrs, wrapping a strong arm around you and you say something that he can’t hear as you drift and drift…

And drift to sleep.

[reshinless]

kinich who took taekwondo classes with you as kids in a modern au (initially so he could protect you when he was older but you wanted to tag along)

kinich who was a mere teenager when he found himself flustered at the thought of a moment where he didn't even think much of it when it happened

—earlier in the center where you both would train, you had trouble tying your belt in order to participate.

starting to panic as you anxiously tried to tie it on before the master would notice- kinich suddenly came up form behind, trailing his hands carefully around your waist and grabs the belt himself

"don't cry over such a simple matter. master mavuika wouldn't actually kick you out."

"'m not gonna cry!" "uhuh, keep telling yourself that, pretty."

he ties it from behind you, instinctively landing his chin onto your shoulder—making sure it's on comfortably;

"anything feel weird? tell me if it's too tight or too loose."

"it's fine, thanks kin'"

aaaaaand before he realizes it, you kissed him on the cheek before walking up to the others to start on the warm-up routine, standing there in shock as master mavuika chuckles at the scene.

"close your mouth, malipo. you'll catch a fly." "real funny, master."

have this silly lil drabble while I let my leg heal 😞🙏

[the-californicationist]

They Help You Practice

Task Force 141 asks you to be the bait for a secret assignment. So, they make you audition for the role. You end up getting gangbanged by the whole team and loving it!

TW: gangbang, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, gay sex, degradation, explicitly consensual, spit? please check AO3 link at bottom for full tag list

You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate. 

“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”

You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded. 

Price continued,

“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into. 

“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”

A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,

“What kind of bait, sir?”

“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.

The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 

“Good. Let's brief the team.”

Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in. 

“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position. 

The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”

Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments. 

“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”

“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room. 

Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,

“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”

“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”

“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms. 

“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly. 

Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,

“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”

“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked. 

“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”

Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return. 

You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.

But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight. 

Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,

“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”

Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.

You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back. 

You smiled,

“Well, do I look the part?”

Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,

“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”

“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”

Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,

“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”

“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”

“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”

“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.

Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,

“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”

“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,

“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”

The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 

Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,

“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “or down?”

The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it. 

“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone. 

The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,

“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”

You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you. 

Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,

“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin. 

Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath. 

“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”

“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.  

He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts. 

Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache. 

Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,

“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”

You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,

“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”

You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew. 

“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,

“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”

You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon. 

He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths. 

“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone. 

The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe. 

“You alright, babes?” He laughed.

You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner. 

Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly. 

“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.

He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you. 

You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match. 

Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning. 

You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs. 

Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time. 

Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,

“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slut, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”

He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face, 

“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”

You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you. 

“He’s not allowed to come in you, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”

Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act. 

Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain. 

“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded. 

You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide. 

He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons, 

“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”

You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate. 

“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”

He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion. 

“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.

Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched. 

Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core. 

Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,

“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”

Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole. 

“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”

Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,

“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here, lass. Breathe with me, lass.”

He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done. 

It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in. 

Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.

You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own. 

He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,

“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”

“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.

Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,

“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”

He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony. 

As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”

“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.” 

Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out. 

Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,

“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”

He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again. 

“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price. 

“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”

“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been. 

Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant. 

They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,

“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”

“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.

“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”

“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”

“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you. 

He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again. 

You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,

“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”

Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation. 

“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”

“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”

“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added. 

Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange. 

Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.

“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval. 

“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”

The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise. 

Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,

“Missing your masked man already?”

You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,

“He’s a little…preoccupied.”

Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure. 

Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole. 

“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb. 

When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return. 

“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”

You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover. 

Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale. 

“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.

“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him. 

“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got  yourself a new permanent assignment.”

Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,

“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”

AO3 Link

[woniedarlin]

Runaway Bride

Pairing: Jungwon x fem! Reader

Synopsis: You are about to marry Jungwon after having a sweet and dramatic relationship for years. Everyone thinks you two are perfect for each other—two pure souls meant to be together. But as the wedding march starts, you panic and run away, leaving Jungwon, the dramatic groom, chasing after his runaway bride. Another cute disaster, right?

Author's note: This is inspired by a TikTok art video that I saw month ago, and it suited the characters of my previous work. Happy Reading!

Warning: This story contains exaggerated drama and humor. Expect a lot of crying.

Permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

Sequel of Two of a Kind but can be stand alone!

“I CAN’T MARRY YOU! YOU’RE TOO GOOD FOR ME!” You screamed as you bolted out, the long train of your wedding dress trailing behind you. Tears streamed down your face, but you couldn’t stop running. You had no idea what was happening, but everything felt overwhelming.

Jungwon, in his perfectly tailored groom suit, was running after you.

He didn't know what was happening but wouldn’t let you escape. “WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!” His voice echoed behind you, panicked. He was running fast, but your wedding gown made you surprisingly fast as you sped down the steps. “YOU CAN’T JUST RUN AWAY LIKE THIS!”

You looked back over your shoulder, feeling the weight of your dress pulling you down, but you kept going. “YOU’RE TOO NICE TO ME! YOU’RE TOO PERFECT! I—I can’t keep up!” You shouted breathlessly, trying to shake him off as if it would make everything make sense again.

“I—I—” Jungwon stammered, trying to catch his breath while still chasing after you. He didn’t know why you said this, but he didn’t want to lose you. “What does that even mean?! I’m too nice? Is that a problem?” His voice cracked, his forehead glistening with sweat as he closed the distance between you two. “You’re making no sense!”

‘’AH!’’ You stumbled, nearly tripping on the hem of your dress, but you quickly regained your footing, still running as if your life depended on it. “You always do everything right!” you continued, voice shaky. “You bring me flowers for no reason, you make me laugh when I’m sad, you always know how to make everything better… and I—I can’t keep up with that! I don’t deserve you! You deserve someone perfect, not me!” You gasped for air.

“I CAN BE LESS NICE!” Jungwon cried out as he suddenly threw himself face-down onto the grass. “I’LL RUIN MY HAIR! I’LL—” He popped his head up, dirt smeared on his cheek. He became more desperate. “I-I WON’T COOK YOUR FAVORITE FOODS,” he said, though it pained him.

He reached out to grab your hands, holding them tightly. He continued, “Don’t leave me! I’ll… I’ll learn to be slightly annoying! I’ll forget your birthday! I’ll stop replacing the toilet paper roll! PLEASE MARRY ME!”

You then looked down at him while hiccuping. ‘’You spend many gifts on me! You have too much money!’’

‘’I’LL MAKE MYSELF BROKE THEN!’’

You sobbed loudly, dramatically wiping your cheeks with your veil, which had long since slid crookedly down your face. “NO! I DON’T WANT YOU TO CHANGE!” you screamed, your voice echoing in the open field where you had fled. “THAT’S THE PROBLEM, JUNGWON! YOU’RE TOO NICE, TOO PERFECT, AND IT’S TOO MUCH!” You hiccupped.

Jungwon’s eyes widened, and tears spilled down his cheeks as he reached out to you. “BUT THAT’S WHO I AM!” he cried, his voice cracking. “AND I CAN’T CHANGE THAT, EVEN IF I WANTED TO! PLEASE, DON’T MAKE ME CHANGE BECAUSE I DON’T WANT YOU TO CHANGE EITHER!”

His words pained you as your tears suddenly streamed faster. “I don’t want you to change either!” your voice breaking. “I just—I just feel like I don’t deserve you, Jungwon!”

Jungwon stood abruptly. “And who cares if I think that?! I deserve you! You don’t get to decide how much you mean to me! You don’t get to run away because you think you’re not enough! You are enough for me, do you hear me?! You always have been!”

You let out a loud sob, throwing yourself into his arms. “FINE! I’LL MARRY YOU!” you cried, your voice muffled against his chest as you clung to him. “I’m sorry! I love you!”

Jungwon wrapped his arms around you as tightly as he could. “I love you too,”

You both stood in the middle of the field, crying and clutching each other. Finally, Jungwon pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands. “Let’s go back?” he said softly, though his smile was affectionate.

“Of course,” you sniffled, laughing even as more tears fell.

Jungwon smiled brightly, leaning down to kiss your forehead softly. “Come on, runaway bride,” he said, taking your hand. “Let’s go back and finish what we started. I’ll even carry you so you don’t trip on that dress again.”

Jungwon held your hand tightly as you both made your way back to the church, his other hand gripping your bouquet, which he’d picked up during your dramatic escape. You pushed open the grand doors, and every head in the room turned toward you two. A collective gasp echoed through the crowd as they saw you—tears streaking your faces, your dress a little wrinkled, Jungwon’s hair a mess, and both of you clutching each other.

The officiant is utterly confused, and your family sits with their mouths agape. “What in the world—” someone muttered, but you didn’t hear it over your nervous giggle.

“Sorry!” you chirped. You glanced at Jungwon, who smiled tearfully, his eyes still red. “We, um… just needed a little moment outside. But we’re ready now!”

Jungwon raised his free hand awkwardly in a wave. “Yeah. Sorry for the drama,”

Everyone sighed in relief, though the whispers in the crowd didn’t stop. The officiant hesitated but gave a slight nod. “Very well. Let us continue, then.”

You and Jungwon shuffled back to the altar, hand in hand. As the ceremony began, you glanced at him and caught him staring at you, tears welling in his eyes again. You sniffled, and when the officiant asked you to say your vows, it felt like a dam had broken. “I—I can’t even talk,” you sobbed, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your dress. “I just… I love you so much!”

Jungwon sniffled loudly and covered his face with his hands. “Don’t start crying again! I’ll cry too!” he wailed, but his voice cracked, and his tears spilled.

When the officiant finally said, “You may now kiss the bride,” Jungwon didn’t wait a second. He leaned in, pressing a tear-soaked, clumsy kiss to your lips, and you kissed him back with all the love and happiness in the world. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, though you barely heard it.

You pulled back, still crying, and he grinned at you through his tears. “We made everyone wait, huh?”

You giggled, brushing his hair out of his face. “Worth it,” you whispered before kissing him again,

The world around you is fading into nothing but pure love.

[ayyy-pee]

𝕆𝕌𝕋𝕃𝔸𝕎

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Part Two of Outlaw Series

Pairing: Outlaw!Suguru Geto x Female Reader Genre: Western AU WC: 8.7k Summary:

“Gettin’ train tickets ain’t easy. Where ya headed?” “Just a few towns over. Goin’ to visit family,” you explain, now more relaxed with him. Something about the way he was able to soothe your nerves makes Suguru feel proud. It also is making him clearly insane, because some sick part of Suguru begins to think he could be your family. If you’ll let him. “What about you?” His brows shoot up in surprise. Why would you want to know about him? “Me?” You nod quickly. “I know you’re…” You lean forward and Suguru mirrors the action as shivers race up his spine when you whisper scandalously, “...an outlaw.”

Story Warning: Train robbery, hostage situation, lying and scheming, profanity bc bitch it's me??, dub-con, Suguru has a corruption kink, needy downbad Suguru, "virgin" reader, guns, smut, blowjob, riding, fingering, spit, thinking about spitting, i love spit, dirty fantasies, titty sucking probably, using ropes, hair pulling (lmfaooooo), threats of violence, dirty talk, inexperienced reader, spit!, overstimulation, humiliation kink, Suguru is kinda pathetic, actually real pathetic, don't get your hopes up idk

Artist Credit: @/tsumusbeloved (on twitter)

A/N: FINALLYYYYY. This has been sitting in my drafts for like 3 months!!! I hope yall enjoy!!!

Tags: @syubseokie @yasu-1234 @cassayeee @glmpsfs @struxkbylightning @aotdump @oidloid @sunnysdiarythoughts @stillseren @lovebittenbyevans @avaatara @elliesndg @luv-kae @megtheebimbo @buttercupblu143 @toffeebrat @kaqua@moggleatlife @candy-s72 @sukunadckrider @xixflower @apchmon

It’s the shrill screech of the metal meeting metal on the train tracks that Suguru enjoys most about his work. How this massive tank of metal carrying so many people can just fly across the country, providing beautiful views of miles and miles of desert sands and mountains. The wildlife roams free on the frontier without a care in the world. And the train just keeps going, filling the sky with thick curls of black smoke.

Yeah, this train has many people on it.

Which means, this train has plenty of goods that will soon be his.

“Ah, you dropped your hat, boss.” A smooth voice speaks behind Suguru, holding open the train door as one other clambers in. Suguru kindly grabs his hat from the man, placing it atop his head as he watches his partner take the last person’s hand, lifting them inside.

It’s a woman, small and with strawberry blonde hair. She grabs onto the man before her. The disgust is clear on her face as her eyes roam along his body.

“Couldn’t pick another day to wear no shirt, Larue?” She complains, spreading a small cloud of dust as she brushes her clothes off.

Larue shrugs, chuckling lightly while he closes the train door. The rushing roar of the winds finally subsides. “It’s hot as all hell outside, Manami. Why not be shirtless? Besides, it gives everyone something spectacular to gawk at.” He motions towards his chest where his new set of ink lies – two hearts, one where each of his nipples are.

“A drunken bet gone right, if you ask me,” Larue had said the night after. “They’re gonna love these at the whorehouse.”

“If you two’re finished…” Suguru begins. Both Larue and Manami straighten up. “I wanna get in ‘n outta here. No funny business. Larue, take the back of the train. Better for you to be there in case the conductor gets any ideas. Grab what ‘ya can get your hands on – jewels, shoes, money. Don’t matter.” Suguru taps his chin in thought, running through his mental list to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. “Oh! And don’t forget to check the bars for any spoons or forks. Y’know what that silver’s worth. Me ‘n Manami will take the front of the train.”

Larue nods, no further instruction needed and Manami smiles next to him excitedly. She quickly shuffles over to Suguru’s side, looping her arm through his and Suguru rolls his eyes before slipping his arm out of her hold. Manami shoots him a pouty look before she quickly recovers, folding her arms over her chest.

“Alright, Boss. I’m ready.” She says with a hushed tone. Larue gives one more nod before he turns around and heads the opposite way. He slides the door slightly ajar, peering inside and just after he enters and the door has been shut and locked, Suguru and Manami hear the muffled shrieks of the passengers in the car.

“Hands in the fucking air! This is a stick up!”

Suguru peers down at Manami who is already staring up at him with eager eyes. And it takes everything in Suguru to not roll his eyes in response. She really gets on his last nerve.

‘I gotta get rid of her after this one,’ he thinks as he moves past the woman and into the opposite end of the train.

He slips through the door, closing it quietly behind Manami once she’s in. No one bothers to look up when they come in and Suguru counts his lucky stars that this will be easier than he anticipated. They make their way along the aisle, offering soft smiles to the passengers that happen to look up as they pass. Suguru thinks there’s nothing but a bunch of carefree monkeys too relaxed and stupid as all hell on this train. They don’t even know what’s coming and if they know what’s good for them, they won’t bother to fight back when they find out.

He lets Manami do the work of maintaining a mental checklist of every item worth its salt in this train car. This is where he’ll leave Manami to do her part. Then Suguru will take the final car where the stragglers usually reside. Larue is already taking care of everything in the back. When he’s done, he’ll pile up all the goods in an empty car and then make his rounds to grab what Manami and Suguru collect.

When they reach the end of the current car, Suguru turns to Manami who is already reaching into her blouse. She beams, eyes locked on Suguru as she slowly pulls out a pretty little Colt’s revolver. Her lips pull up at the corners, a sly grin on her face. If it’s meant to be alluring to Suguru, it’s not working. In fact it’s having the opposite effect. It’s so annoying, the way her pupils dilate when she looks at him. It’s only been a few months since Manami joined their group, but it’s only getting worse for Suguru. She spends half her time trying to seduce him and failing. And it’s not that Manami is unattractive. She’s a very beautiful woman, but she’s not exactly Suguru’s type.

He’s looking for someone a bit more…inexperienced when it comes to this life of crime. Someone he can mold into his ideal woman, untouched by the roughness that west has to offer. Manami has been doing this for far too long, and already has habits that consistently get under Suguru’s skin. She’d never interest him that way.

The pink haired woman flashes Suguru her gun, pointing her chin towards the last car as a signal for him to go on. Suguru nods, spinning on his heel and heading towards his destination. And just in time too, because he hears the door on the other end of the train car close and he knows Larue has finished and has come to assist Manami.

The train car slides shut behind Suguru right as he hears the passengers scream in the car behind him. It’s louder than the first instance and catches the attention of the passengers in his car who now stare at him with wide eyes, mouths agape like a sea of fish.

Suguru rubs the nape of his neck, frowning. Then, offering a goofy grin, he mutters, “Ah well…” He reaches behind him, wrapping his nimble fingers around the cool, wooden handle tucked into his waistband. He whips out his revolver, the sun glaring off of the fancy gold weapon as Suguru aims it at the passengers who all shriek in terror. The women clutch their jewels. The men hold onto their women. And Suguru? He laughs raucously before he barks out, “Put ‘em up!”

- - - - - -

It’s a little surprising how easily the heist goes, but Suguru tries not to give it too much thought. You start thinking something’s gonna go wrong and it damn sure will. While Manami is guiding passengers into the back cars, Larue has the conductor held hostage, locked away with threats of a bullet to his skull unless he continues driving. He’d only shown his face and quickly hid away in his cabin when Suguru told him to use his fucking brain unless he wanted it splattered across the window.

Now, Suguru finds himself roaming the cabin to see if there are any stragglers. And there is one. A very beautiful woman, at that. There you sit, in the last seat of the train car. He slowly makes his way over to you. Suguru thinks you must be some type of saloon girl. Your pretty little dress and waist neatly cinched in a leather corset is the giveaway. He glances over his shoulder, just to be sure this cabin is empty, only to find that it truly is only himself and you left. He hates having to wrangle the stragglers. That’s Manami and Larue’s job. And Suguru hates it even more when they’re not doing it.

He tightens the grip on his gun, turning to give you an earful until his eyes meet yours. They’re so wide and glistening, like you’re on the verge of tears. Your lips are quivering, your bottom lip protruding in a pout. It reminds him of the look Manami gave him just before the heist started. Except when coming from you, for some reason, it’s bringing out a different reaction. 

His heart rate quickens, and Suguru’s hands suddenly feel clammy and not from the heat in this train car. He can feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and he has to swallow to quell the dryness that’s forming in his throat. Then he’s tucking his weapon away into his holster and moving towards you.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” Suguru speaks calmly as he takes the seat in front of you. You peer up at him, with apparent fear in your eyes and he wants nothing more than to see that look disappear. Usually, he’d use force to get you out and rounded up with the rest of the passengers. He’s not sure why, but there’s something about you that makes Suguru want to take care of you. “Why didn’t you leave with the rest of the crowd?” He questions.

You’re fidgeting with the fabric of your dress in your lap, visibly shaken even as Suguru removes his hat and sets it on the seat in front of you before he sits down.

“I–” you clear your throat and bite down on your lip, seemingly to calm your nerves. 

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, ma’am,” he tells you softly, reassuring you. “Just wonderin’.” Suguru takes this time to drink in your features – how soft you look, the way your body so beautifully fills that dress of yours, how you’ve got a face that will be burned into his memory long after this encounter.

And for some reason, it also feels as if it was burned into his memory long before this encounter. There’s a familiarity about you that Suguru can’t quite place. He’s certain he’s seen your face somewhere. He had been through many saloons and brothels in his time traveling the frontier. Perhaps he had run into you in one of the many establishments he frequented? 

No. No, Suguru would remember if he saw a woman who looked like you in any of those places. You would have easily stood out in the crowd. He would have called you up to his room on any of those nights. 

You bite down on your lip as you stare at Suguru. As afraid as you look, you don’t break eye contact. To see you so stricken with fear, and yet you steadily look him in the eye without blinking. You show courage even when faced with danger, and it does something to him. 

The look on your face has him picturing all sorts of things about you and he doesn’t even know your name.

“I was afraid,” you mutter quietly. 

Thankfully so, because Suguru was just about to begin imagining a life outside of crime with you. Which is shocking in and of itself. Three minutes of simply staring at you had him visualizing a future on the prairie hanging laundry on the line while you fed the cattle.

‘Keep it together.’

“Don’t be scared. I’m not gonna hurt nobody,” Suguru reassures you again. He tries to calm your nerves with a smile which seems to work because he sees you visibly exhale. You return his gesture with a small smile of your own, and his imagination runs wild once more.

“Promise?” You ask, Suguru’s smile widens. 

‘Cute,’ he thinks. He wants to see more of those. “I promise, sweetheart.”

He can hear the way you huff, something between a laugh and a sigh of relief. And Suguru finds himself becoming more and more infatuated with you as he keeps the conversation going.

“Gettin’ train tickets ain’t easy. Where ya headed?”

“Just a few towns over. Goin’ to visit family,” you explain, now more relaxed with him. Something about the way he was able to soothe your nerves makes Suguru feel proud.

It also is making him clearly insane, because some sick part of Suguru begins to think he could be your family. If you’ll let him.

“What about you?”

His brows shoot up in surprise. Why would you want to know about him? “Me?”

You nod quickly. “I know you’re…” You lean forward and Suguru mirrors the action as shivers race up his spine when you whisper scandalously, “...an outlaw.”

He leans back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully while he purses his lips together. His gaze is locked onto you because he wonders if you’re up to something. If you’re not as sweet and innocent as you look. But when you lean back and flutter your lashes at him, he begins to doubt it. That sweet face of yours is a rare one to see on this side of the wild west; beautiful and unscarred. You don’t look like you’ve been exposed to anything more dangerous than a thunderstorm. And it’s arousing. The air of innocence that you carry has Suguru shifting in his seat, his pants suddenly feeling tighter.

This is exactly what he’s been wanting. Someone opposite of Manami, someone who is interested in his life, but not involved with crime in the least. As far as he can tell, you’re clean as a whistle. And Suguru likes to think he’s good at reading people.

“Never seen a outlaw before?” He drawls. You shake your head, back to messing around nervously with your dress.

“Never,” you answer softly, batting those pretty, long lashes at him. “Only seen ‘em on signs. Wanted…dead, or alive.”

Oh, you really are sheltered.

“Well, now you’ve seen one in person.” Suguru combs his fingers through his dark tresses, grinning like his criminal status is one to be proud of. To him, he supposes it is. “What d’ya think?”

You do that lip biting thing that Suguru is beginning to realize he finds cute. Maybe it’s a nervous tick, but this time it seems it’s to be you holding back a smile. Everything you do is cute to him. Everything you do is sweet, innocent, arousing.

“I…” You lean forward in your seat again, and whether you realize it or not, it gives Suguru a perfect view of the swell of your breasts. It’s a struggle to keep his focus on your face when your skin looks so smooth, and unmarred, perfect. Those plush lips of yours whisper, “...I think it’s exciting.”

He can only think one thought in this moment.

He wants to ruin you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s excitin’ about it?” He asks, though he has an idea what it is. The travel, not being tied down to anyone or anything, the freedom this life provides. It’s what they all say when they try to make small talk. “Pretty girl like you can’t possibly know nothin’ about this life.”

You inhale deeply, leaning back in your seat and Suguru watches closely, the way your chest rises and falls with the breath. “Well, I never seen a outlaw in person. Surely never spoke to one. And…” You purse your lips together, like you’re contemplating if you should say the next thing. But you do anyway. “I just never thought a outlaw could be so pretty.”

His eyes widen, the corners of his lips rising with a goofy grin. “Pretty?” He chuckles, combing his fingers through his hair again. “You really think so?”

He’s been called a lot of things, but pretty is not one of them.

“Yep. Look at ya.” You stand, moving quickly to cross the small gap between you both and take a seat next to him. You reach for his arm, then hesitate, pulling back for a second. You peer up at Suguru, silently asking permission and he nods. Your fingers ghost along his forearm, over his bicep, along his neck where his Adam's apple bobs with a gulp, and then your hand is cupping his cheek. Your trail leaves behind a trail of goosebumps.

And Suguru’s pants grow tighter.

Suguru has had his fair share of women and men alike during his time as a felon. But you’re particularly tempting. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted someone as badly as he wants you right now and it’s been all of ten minutes in this train car together. But any minute now, his crew is going to come through those doors and tell him they’re ready to go. And then Suguru will have to leave and the chances of him seeing you ever again are slim to none. 

But on the bright side, the chances of him seeing you again are slim to none. It’s a little sudden, but you seem like you want him with the way you’re feeling him up right about now. Maybe you'd let him bury his cock as deep as he can go, fuck you until you’re screaming his name, begging and crying on his cock. Then he’ll fill you with his seed, maybe leave a baby in you to remember him by if you’re lucky and then he’ll grab his spoils with Larue and the rest and go. Then he'll never see you again. 

This desert is far and wide. He’d have you today, then never have to face you again for the rest of his life. A woman like you? You'll be just fine. A pretty face and an even prettier smile. Though he thinks you're a bit naive. Have to be to be sitting here chatting with him like he’s some gentleman you met on a leisurely trip to see your relatives. Regardless, there will be some poor fool out there that'll be happy to have you after he's had his way with you.

‘Weren’t you just daydreaming about settling down with this woman?’

“Pretty eyes,” you hum, pulling Suguru from his filthy fantasies. “Nice skin, pretty lips. Just…very pretty.” Your thumb caresses his skin and his eyes can't help but notice the way your gaze is locked to his lips. He pokes his tongue out, watching your eyes widen just slightly at the motion, as he runs the wet muscle along his lips. And he’s right back in his head, thinking of all the ways he could have you.

There’s no mistaking the thick tension filling the room at this moment. Like a lightning bolt hitting the same spot repeatedly. Each stroke of your fingers along his cheek only intensifies the mood. Suguru’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, and yours into one that matches. “Why do I feel like you're trouble?” He says.

Your smile widens, and like a magnet, Suguru finds himself slowly being drawn closer and closer to you. Even as a soft laugh falls from your lips, his mind is wiped clean of all thoughts that don't consist of you.

“Me? That’s funny comin’ from a outlaw like yourself,” you mutter just as you close the distance between you, pressing your lips teasingly to Suguru's. They barely touch, truly a ghost of a touch but Suguru still has to swallow down the moan that damn near bursts from his chest the second your mouth was close enough to his.

You pull away suddenly, covering your lips as you lean away, your eyes wide with worry. “‘m sorry.”

“What are you apologizin’ for?” Suguru asks, scooting closer.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me…I just…” You’re back to fidgeting with your dress again, and Suguru places a large hand over yours to stop the movement. “You’re a criminal, and I’m just me. I shouldn’t even be talkin’ to you.” You stare up at him with wide eyes, and fuck he wants you.

You look so sweet, so pure looking at him like that. And he feels a little like a piece of shit because while you’re looking at him with probably innocent thoughts floating around in your head, he’s thinking about how he’d love nothing more than to cover your face in his seed.

“I’m not a bad guy,” Suguru lies easily. “Have I done bad things?” He shrugs, because he’s done way too many terrible things to count. Better not to give a real answer to that one. “But I’m enjoyin’ our conversation. The kiss was just a perk. Wouldn’t mind it if it happened again. I’d gladly accept it.”

“But…I don’t even know you…”

‘All the better,’ is what he wants to say, but instead, he tells you, “And that’s fine. Listen–” he squeezes your hand gently. “Best part of bein’ a criminal is that I just do what I want. Don’t gotta ask permission for nothin’.”

Your eyes swim with curiosity. “It’s that easy?”

“Yep. Do what makes ya feel good, sweetheart.”

You still don’t look convinced, and if this next question doesn’t work, Suguru will have no choice but to tie you up and dump you in the other train car with the rest of the hostages. He doesn’t have much time to waste trying to get you just to kiss him.

“Lemme ask ya…did you like kissin’ me?”

He knows he should be worrying about the heist, not some pretty face distracting him from the job. But when you speak again, he tells himself the job can go to hell.

“Yes…but…I got scared. I– I’ve only done some things with a man…” you admit quietly. “And I’m not too good at it.”

Fuck. He has to have you.

“That’s not a problem, sweetheart,” he reassures you, and you beam.

Your hand grasps onto Suguru’s, squeezing tightly. “Really?”

He nods. “I don’t got much time before I gotta leave, but I can show ya some things real quick.”

“You’ll show me? How to do things?” Your voice is eager, so ready. Suguru is finding it hard to contain how much you’re turning him on right now. “Like kissin’ and…y’know other stuff?”

“What kinda stuff?” He asks, because he wants you to say it. Wants to know how far you’re willing to go if you’ve never done a damn thing before. You pinch your lips together, turning your head away shyly. But Suguru gently cups your chin, turning you to look at him again.

“What kinda stuff?” He repeats. “Tell me.”

“Stuff…that makes a man…y’know…”

He grins, tauntingly. “Enlighten me,” he whispers.

“Stuff to make a man…” you worry your lip between your teeth. “...feel good.”

Oh hell. 

What type of good deeds has Suguru done to find himself here? With someone as virtuous as you, who is asking him of all people to show you how to please him? He has half a mind to tell you no. He’s got shit to do and his partners are bound to come looking for him any minute. But his cock is screaming within the confines of his pants to get into those undergarments of yours. And there’s no argument to be had here. 

He’s listening to his dick.

Suguru crashes his lips to yours, swallowing up the yelp that escapes you from the sudden kiss. “I’ll teach ya whatever ya want, pretty girl.” He groans into your mouth. 

He kisses you hard, but slowly, giving you time to catch up. You’re a little slow to pick up, but you get there. Your lips slot against his, fingers slipping into his hair and holding on tight, making Suguru groan into the kiss once more.

“We don’t got a lotta time,” he breathes against you.

You nod, pulling away to look up at him. “What d’ya want?”

You.

He needs you – bent over the passenger seat and holding onto the bar sitting atop it while he fucks you from behind. He needs you sitting on his face, needs your hand around his length. But he’s looking at your face again, so desperate for instruction. Looks at your lips, swollen from the little bit of kissing you’ve been doing. And he knows exactly what he needs in this moment.

“Ever had a cock in your mouth?” He shifts, sitting back against the seat.

You shake your head.

“Ever touched one?”

Another shake of your head.

“What have you done?”

You hum, thinking only for a short time before you answer. “Kissed.”

What fucking luck.

Doesn’t matter what they score off the train today. This is the biggest reward of all.

“Good,” Suguru says, tugging your hand until you stand. With a grin, he guides you to the floor until you’re sitting up on your knees. “There won’t be another man who’s had ya then. I’ll show ya how to please me, make me feel good.” 

You nod, and Suguru can’t believe how easy this was as he fumbles with his belt, quickly undoing the buckle. He yanks his pants down, along with his underwear. Only to his knees. He wants to be able to get up quickly if needed. Suguru’s dick sits against his stomach, fat and long, with a harsh red tip that leaks with precum. He peers down at you, your eyes honed in on his length.

“Touch it,” he whispers encouragingly.

Your eyes meet as you move, your hands wrapping around Suguru tenderly, pulling a hiss from him. You hold his length like it’s a foreign object, and he supposes it is to you since it’s the first time you’ve done. Suguru grits his teeth, bringing a hand up to your fist. You’re simply touching him and his dick is throbbing in your grip.

“Move your hand…up ‘n down,” he tells you. “Like this.” He guides you, helping to move your hand in slow and light pumps until you’ve found a rhythm that works. His head falls back as the pleasure takes over. “Ahhh–shit, just like that, pretty girl.”

“It’s so big…” you sigh, licking your lips as you stroke his cock slowly.

From here, Suguru is certain he has a perfect view of you. Eyes wide and curious while you observe every ridge and vein running along his length. It turns him on beyond measure, his hips jerking upward in your grasp. 

“Damn,” he moans, fucking himself into your hands. For someone with no experience, you hold his dick just right. He never knew a woman’s touch could feel this good, but you’re a natural talent. You stroke him so good, his mouth falls slack as he lets himself enjoy the feeling of your hands around him. But you surprise him, just as you’ve been doing all this time, his eyes snapping open just in time to watch you lick from the base of his length all the way to the tip, teasing the slit with your tongue and lapping up the bead of precum that sits there.

“It’s salty,” you giggle before you kiss down his shaft, bringing your attention to his balls, kissing and licking the two orbs teasingly. Suguru inhales sharply, eyes rolling to the back of his head as the sensation makes his head swim with pleasure. Especially when your hand wraps around Suguru’s length again, pumping him up and down, slowly as you continue to lap at his balls.

“You’re already so good at this,” Suguru pants heavily.

“I am?” 

He can hear the excitement in your voice, so eager to please him. It turns him on knowing that you’re trying so hard to make him feel good. He wonders if you can feel his cock throb in your hands.

“So fucking good,” he praises you, loving the way you hum against him.

“Can I put it in my mouth?” You ask sweetly, squeezing your hands around his cock.

“God, please.”

When you take Suguru into the warmth of your mouth, you hum around him, and the vibrations make him shiver, back arching off of the seat. His palm finds the back of your head, his hips rolling up so he can shove his cock as far as possible without hurting you. He’s gentle at first. You’ve never done this before, after all. He wants to give you the time you need to adjust, though he can’t afford to give you too much. Which seems to be just fine, because just like before, you catch on quickly. You take his cock damn near to the base, and you take it so well, relaxing your throat for him so it’s easy. 

“Could fuck this pretty little mouth all day,” Suguru grunts, pumping into you. “So goddamn good.” The sound of his balls slapping against your chin as he fucks your face has his legs trembling, pleasure shooting straight up his spine. He wants to grab your head and push you down further, make you swallow all of him until he blows his load down your throat, then make you swallow that, too. But he doesn’t want to cum just yet.

He craves more from you. He needs more from you.

You hum again, sending another vibration through him as your fingers come up, caressing his balls. And Suguru squeezes his eyes shut, trying so hard not to cum. “Ah– shit, shit!” He pushes at your shoulders, forcing you off of him with a loud and wet pop. You look rather pleased with yourself, smiling when you see his red cheeks and the way he rapidly tries to catch his breath.

Like he noted before. You’re trouble.

“Fuck, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he gasps, staring at your chin dripping with saliva and his juices. Suguru watches through hooded eyes as you swipe it away. He could watch you on your knees all day, taking his cock down your throat time and time again. But unfortunately, time is not on his side today. He needs to hurry it up.

“C’mere, pretty,” he calls for you, taking your hand. You stand, waiting for your next instruction as Suguru leans forward in his seat. His hands find your waist, pulling you close enough that he can press a kiss to your stomach before he leans back again. “Pull up your skirt for me.”

“Okay…” you agree, shakily. You reach for the hem of your skirt, pulling the layers of fabric as high as it’ll go. Suguru always hated these damn dresses. It’s like digging for gold trying to get through every damn piece of clothing. But eventually, you get to the end, revealing your bare thighs to him. Soft, plush, beautiful. But what he’s truly interested in remains concealed by your underwear.

Suguru swallows hard before he drags his finger along your clothed pussy, grinning when your thighs tremble just barely. His gaze glides back up your form until they rest on your face, watching as your mouth falls open with a silent moan. 

Hard to believe you’ve never been touched here. Also, so very arousing to think you’ve never been touched here. He thanks his lucky stars that you’re allowing him to be the first.

He slips his finger into the fabric, his slender fingers quickly finding your slit and sliding along your folds. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how soaked you are. He briefly brushes a finger against your entrance, pausing when he feels you tense up.

“Might hurt a little,” he warns as softly as he can manage right now. But you whisper, “go ahead”, hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he dips his finger into your pussy, biting back a moan when he feels your soft walls clench down on his hand. It’s tight, as expected but he moves slowly, pulling back every so often to work his way further.

You whimper above him, squeezing his shoulders as your breaths come rapidly while Suguru pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your bottom lip sits between your teeth, and your brows are knitted together.

You’re enjoying this. 

And he’s enjoying watching you.

Suguru presses his thumb to your clit, slowly circling the sensitive nub. Dark eyes lock with yours as his other hand finds the top of your dress where he hooks his fingers into the cups and pulls it down. Your breasts spill out of the fabric and your breath hitches when the air caresses your nipples. Suguru kneads the soft flesh, his thumb swiping across one of the hardened buds. 

“Ahhh, yes,” you moan, your voice barely above a whisper. Your head falls back with a loud gasp as Suguru slips another finger into you. 

“Bein’ real good for me,” he coos. His dick grows painfully harder as he slowly thrusts his fingers inside of you, while his thumb stimulates your clit. He’s panting trying to hold himself together while he preps you for what he wants next. Your hips move on their own, riding Suguru’s hand, chasing your high. 

“Feel good?” He grunts, fingers slipping into you over and over, curling inside, and hitting your sweet spot and you can’t help but to gasp quietly each time Suguru touches it. 

“Y-yes, feels incredible,” you whine.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on your center where he watches his fingers disappear into your cunt over and over, your slick coating his hand more with each thrust. It only adds to Suguru’s struggle to keep it together as he ignores the pulsing need of his cock. Your pleasured moans and the squelching sound of your dripping pussy fill the space of the train car.

“I’m–” you breathe harshly against him and he feels your walls squeeze down on his digits. You’re close already.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?” Suguru’s fingers dip into you faster. His eyes linger on your face as his thumb rubs tight circles on the sensitive bud between your legs. Your eyes flutter closed, mouth hanging open as a delicious moan rushes past your lips, your grip on Suguru’s shoulders tightening so much it stings. But he loves it, loves feeling your pussy squeezing down on his fingers, sucking them deeper as your release crashes over you until he can feel your cum dripping down his fingers and into his palm as he keeps pumping into you.

Suguru sighs as he stares at his fingers, slowly pulling them from you. He licks his lips, admiring his slick covered hand.

He’s never taken the time to just enjoy the moment with anyone. Never cared much to please a woman. It’s easier for him to just get himself off and high tail it out of there. No attachment to these ladies, no reason to stick around. But what is it about you that makes him want to see all the ways your body is capable of falling apart? Because it’s a beautiful sight to behold. 

“Outlaw…” you murmur, slipping your undergarments down your legs until you’re able to kick them off. You push Suguru back by the shoulders, lifting your skirt so that you can easily maneuver into his lap. His hands find your hips beneath your dress as you straddle him, and his thumbs caress the soft skin gently.

“Yeah, beautiful?”

So beautiful. He can’t stop staring at you and your eyes, glazed over with desire. You lean forward, the heat from between your legs making Suguru’s length twitch. It lightly taps your core and you gasp. Your hands clutch onto the bar that runs along the top of the train seat, one on each side of his head. Suguru’s palms glide around to your backside, squeezing the flesh of your ass. You brush your nose against his, soft breaths mingling with his as you whisper, “make love to me, outlaw…” just before your lips touch.

And Suguru’s groaning into your mouth, because this kiss is different. It’s hungry, hot, full of want and need. It’s sloppy and rushed, because you’re both aware of the time crunch you’re in. It’s intoxicating, addicting, the way he never wants to stop kissing you. To hell with the heist.

“Ready for me, pretty girl?” Suguru pants, a hand gripping his cock. He can feel the heat of your pussy radiating off of you and it makes him all the more eager to have you.

Your eyes are wide, filled with something Suguru thinks may be excitement. He’s not sure he sees any hesitation or fear behind your eyes. You want him badly, it’s clear as day. He wants you just as badly, if not more. So he positions himself at your entrance, nudging your hole gently with his tip. 

A small whimper slips past your lips, and Suguru kisses you sweetly. “It’s only gonna hurt for a second,” he coos. “Promise…”

He kisses you again, muttering, “I’m pushin’ in…” against your lips.

You close your eyes, teeth digging into your bottom lip as Suguru rolls his hips forward, slowly sinking his tip into your pussy, only stopping when you let out a harsh breath.

“‘S a tight fit,” he murmurs through gritted teeth. An understatement. Your pussy is gripping him with so much force, he’s struggling to breathe. You’re holding him hostage within your walls and the feeling has him tightening his hold on your ass. “You alright?”

Because he wants to make sure it feels good for you, too. Your pleasure is his. Which is a whole new feeling for him in and of itself. He’s aware of how the tables have turned. What started as him wanting to show you ways to please him, turned into him desperate to please you. But he likes it that way.

You nod, moaning quietly when Suguru keeps moving forward. “Ohhh…” 

“God, this pussy is so fuckin’ –” he can’t even finish his sentence. He needs to focus all his attention on not cumming already.

You take him all the way to the base, moaning loudly when you fully sink onto him. Your grip tightens around the bar, steadying yourself as Suguru lifts you by your ass before pulling you back down on him, so slowly. “Fuuuck–” he groans. He thrusts into you at a leisurely pace, slow and controlled, giving you time to adjust to his size. 

But his kisses…they’re rough. Such a contrast to the way he’s fucking you right now. The pleasure is overwhelming to Suguru, and when your tongue slips into his mouth, it’s him that’s whimpering now, thrusting just a little faster, a little harder.

“Damn, you take my cock so good, pretty girl–” he growls into your mouth. “Love the way you ride me.” He smacks your ass hard, eyes falling to your breast, bouncing up and down with the rhythm of his thrusts. He takes one into his mouth, greedily lapping at your nipple, nipping and sucking and loving the way your cries get louder.

“Oh my god, fuck!”

“Ride my cock, pretty. You already do it so good. Wanna see you ride me.” Suguru groans. He releases his hold on you, hands coming up to play with your breasts while you bounce wildly on his dick. He lifts your dress, relishing the view of his length, glistening with your slick, vanishes into your tight cunt over and over. “Shiiiitttt…”

You slip a hand into his tresses, pulling hard and forcing him away from your nipples. You pull so hard Suguru has to close his eyes because the sensation sends goosebumps igniting across his body. That, combined with the way you keep taking him to the tip before slamming down on his cock repeatedly. Fuck, you’re a quick learner.

Your pussy is what it feels like every single time he pulls off a heist successfully. Like fucking heaven. And he never wants to leave it.

His eyes flutter open, just enough to see your breasts bouncing with every rise and fall of your hips. Your velvety walls hug him tight, so fucking good, Suguru thinks he'd like to be able to have you all the time. Hell, he has half a mind to take you with him once they’re off this damned train. Being able to have you like this any time he wants, watch your body come undone under him, on top of him, in any position you’ll let him have you. He’d even give up this outlaw life if you wanted him to. Settle down, start a family if that’s what you wanted. The thought of it makes Suguru more excited than he’ll ever admit.

Each time your pussy sucks him back in, begging for him to cum, he can suddenly picture a life outside of this. Each time those sexy little noises fall from your sweet lips, he can suddenly envision raising a family with you, building himself a life where he's able to hear those sounds any time he desires. 

He lets his mind drift to these fantasies while he can, enjoying the feeling of you and the sounds you gift him with. 

There's a fire pooling in his belly, growing hotter each time his balls meet your ass. He's gonna blow his load here any second. And he can't wait. He wants to cum inside your walls, wants to thrust himself so deep into you that there's no way you're not carrying his child when he's done. Least you'll have something to remember him by if you tell him you don’t want shit to do with him after this. A sweet woman like you with a wanted felon? Of course you’d prefer to get your rocks off while you can and move on. Which is fine.

Because Suguru is gonna remember you, anyway. He’ll remember the way you squeeze around him, the way you moan the little nickname you’ve given him, the way your cunt feels fucking unlike any other woman’s. You’ve got him mesmerized. 

So much so, that he doesn't even notice the cool press of steel against the center of his forehead. 

“Ohhh,” you moan, whimpering, “Please…please…will you put a baby inside me, outlaw?” 

It’s like you read his mind, and Suguru’s eyes snap open, balls tightening as his release threatens to come at any moment. But then his eyes see the stiffness in your arm, see the glimmer of metal as the sunlight reflects off it through the windows, and he finally realizes you've got his gun to his head, and maybe that’s actually why his balls are tightening. You’ve got this wicked grin on your flushed face as you keep riding him. Hard, fast, walls squeezing him in a vice grip. And he can't do shit but let his eyes roll to the back of his head, let his pleasure race straight down his spine and into his balls as his release shoots from his cock before he has a chance to get ahold of himself.

But you don’t let him get a drop inside, lifting yourself smoothly off his lap just as fat, hot streams of cum land messily in his lap and on his stomach. Suguru’s gasping for air, still struggling to figure out what the fuck is going on. And you don’t give him a second to catch his breath, to let his mind catch up before you’re wrapping your hand around his cock again, squeezing and stroking his length until he’s so overstimulated his jaw is cramping up from how hard he’s gritting his teeth to keep from crying out.

“What the fuck are you ahhh–” you run your thumb over his leaking tip, your eyes alight with joy when his hips buck up automatically, legs trembling as you keep pumping him, though his balls are beyond empty. 

You tsk, shaking your head as you press the barrel of the gun harder against his skin. “Where’s that sweet outlaw from before?” You drawl.

Your voice has changed. No longer soft spoken, shy and sweet. The hardness of your tone tells Suguru all he needs to know. The memories come flooding back. And now he realizes why you looked so familiar when he first laid eyes on you. 

Your face has been plastered on wanted posters in damn near every town he and his partners have stopped in. Murder, robbery, drunkenness, prison escape, cheating at cards. All the crimes that should have you in the town square hanging, you’re wanted for. Somehow, you’ve managed to never get caught.

How could he have let his guard down? How could he have fucked up this badly?

‘Thinking with your dick. That’s how.’

“Guess it takes an outlaw to know one,” He grits out, nostrils flared with fury. He can only hope his crew comes through those doors soon, though it’ll be fucking humiliating to be caught in this position.

A giggle spills from your lips and the sound makes Suguru sick to his stomach. You don’t even sound like the same person from before. “Y’all are pretty easy to spot. ‘Specially when all y’all think with your cocks–” You echo his thoughts, emphasizing the word by squeezing Suguru’s slowly softening length in your hand. You frown, releasing your hold on him. “Huh, thought you’d be able to gimme another one.”

He inhales deeply, shakily, narrowing his eyes at the woman – the stranger – that stands before him. “Everything you said was a lie, then.”

It’s not a question. He knows. Because you’re just like him. Maybe even worse.

Laughter bursts from deep within, like what he said was the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. “It really is easy to fool y’all men. Just gotta make our pussies feel reallllll tight and wet and y’all don’t question nothin’.”

You climb off of the seat, taking the gun off his head while you fix your undergarments, unbothered and careless. And Suguru decides to act fast, takes this moment to lunge for you. But he doesn’t make it far, because his head is yanked back roughly the moment he jumps forward. His scalp burns, and he reaches back, feeling a thick knot tied around the metal bar that sits atop the train seats. The same metal bar you were just holding onto moments ago.

“You fuckin’ tied my hair to the seat?!” He growls.

And you chuckle, shifting your dress around until you’re decent again. The gun is pointed back at Suguru’s face, and he puts his hands back down, not daring to try and free himself when you’ve got a revolver ready to blow his brains out.

“And your hands are next,” you promise in a sing-song voice. You keep your word, spinning around briefly to reach between the wall and your original seat, where you’d apparently hidden a small rope. You make quick work of tying Suguru’s hands behind his back, leaning a little too close to him as you finish the knot. 

He can feel your breaths against his neck, and right now, if he’s being honest with himself – which he may as well be since he could very well be dead soon – it’s confusing him. Because he feels like he fucking hates you, is repulsed by you, could spit in your face right now. Oh, he really fucking wants to. But something tells him you’d like that anyway. And the thought of your face, depraved and covered in his saliva is making his still exposed length hard again. Even when you tug harshly on the rope for good measure, chuckling low in Suguru’s ear when you hear him hiss in pain, his cock stiffens further.

And of course you notice, your eyes glancing down to his lap, where the sticky mess you left him with lies. “Sure you don’t wanna go again?” You tease, laughing when Suguru scowls. 

You like him upset, and probably a little pathetic, because you press your lips to his pout, kissing him hungrily. And apparently, Suguru is as pathetic as he looks, because – and it’s a surprise to him, too – he kisses you back! Your tongues tangle during this brief meeting of your lips, fighting for dominance, though it’s apparent who’s the one in control here. 

The filthy moans between you are interrupted when Suguru feels that damned gun under his chin now, applying enough pressure to push him back. Only a line of your mixed saliva connects you two as you stare down at him in amusement.

“Like I said…” you peer down quickly at Suguru’s lap before whispering. “Aaaalways thinkin’ with your cock.” You step back, pointing the gun at him once again.

“What do ya want?” He asks, pulling at his restraints to no avail. He’d love nothing more than to wipe that cocky smile off your face and flip the tables on you, but it’s not looking good for him.

“What I want…” You wiggle the gun in his face, tauntingly. “...is already mine, outlaw.” There’s humor in your tone, and your body language is relaxed. You couldn’t see Suguru as less of a threat if you tried.

You piss him off.

And make him so fucking hard.

He’s confused!

The noise of the doors to the train cabin opening can be heard and Suguru grins. You’re fucked now. Larue is going to put a bullet between your eyes and sure, Suguru’ll be sad about it. But better you than him. You were a great fuck, he’ll admit. And yes, he entertained the idea of giving you a kid or two, maybe getting a little cabin out in the prairie. But that fantasy’s as dead as you’re about to be. Sad that he won’t be–

“The guy with the nipples and the girl have been taken care of, boss!” A chipper voice sings. 

That…is not Larue.

Suguru couldn’t turn his head if he tried, courtesy of this goddamn knot, but he can see the smirk on your face as you nod. “Great work, Hime. And the goods?”

“Already on the move with the others. Just gotta get on the horses when you’re ready.”

You turn your head, staring out the window and nodding again. Out of his peripheral, Suguru can just barely make out the form of two horses, racing alongside the train and he knows he’s screwed.

You sigh, shrugging while feigning sadness as you pout. “Well, outlaw…looks like this is the end of the line.”

Suguru tugs at his ropes again, struggling against the holds. “You gonna leave me here like this?” He gestures with his chin at his…situation. You must be forgetting his entire dick is out for the world to see. And that you’ve tied his hands up. Not to mention his fucking hair! If he has to cut his hair because of this…

You hum, like you’re actually giving deep thought to his question. You’re not.

“Yeah, actually. Think I am.” You lift your dress, not even pretending to be as innocent as you presented yourself to be when Suguru first laid eyes on you. You tuck his gun into the waistband of your undergarments, patting it affectionately. “Thanks for a grand ol’ time, outlaw. If you manage to survive this, we can do it again.”

You shoot him a wink before you lean over him, leaving him with one final kiss on the lips. It’s gentle this time, soft, save for a light nip to his bottom lip that embarrassingly enough, manages to arouse Suguru yet again. 

“At least tell me your name,” Suguru grits out through heavy breaths. “So I can be sure to repay the favor.”

It’s a threat, but you don’t take it as one. You simply smile. It’s warm, almost reminiscent of the woman he met just earlier. The woman he thought you were. But that look is gone as soon as it appeared. You pat his face gently, reaching across the seat to grab his hat that he had set aside when he’d first sat down. You sit it atop your head, wearing it like some sort of crown, and without another word, you leave.

The train cars open, the roaring rush of the wind filling the space for just a moment before they’re shut again, and Suguru is left with nothing but his thoughts and his dick literally out. He leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes to calm his racing heart and honestly to stifle the pain of his untouched erection.

This has been the wildest ride of his life. Definitely the worst heist he’s ever done. And if he does survive this, does manage to somehow talk his way out of charges and prison time, he’s going to find you. Fuck the robberies. Fuck the brothels. Fuck gambling and drinking all day. Yeah, if he manages to survive this, he will make it his life’s mission to find you again.

Because even after all is said and done, Suguru thinks he might fucking love you.

[buck-star]

bucky eating you out while steve eats your ass! that lil shit is such a closeted freak. bucky is too, just not as closeted LOL

loves to tease steve about how much he likes eating your ass until one day he’s like “keep talking shit” and eats bucky’s ass and bucky is just on cloud 9 😛

Better than thought

Bucky loves to tease Steve about his way to pleasure you, even though it’s better than he thought.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 3.890 Words

Warnings/Tags: established relationship, petnames [bay doll, princess, King grumpy, Majesty Sunshine], possessive, grumpy, poly relationship, smut [oral (fem!/male!rec), oral pussy/ass, fingering, handjob, squirting, cum, humping, praises]

Authors Note: Thanks for the request. Waking up and reading such a filthy thing is… needs a day filled with writing because this thought didn’t want to leave my mind, so here. Divider made by me.

Events: Stucky Bingo [SB6010 | B3 | Writing Format: Second Person | @stuckybingo], Sweet Spicy Bingo: Beginnings Bingo [Row Three-Three | First Orgasm | @sweetspicybingo]

Masterlist | Stucky Masterlist

The sun is painting your bedroom in a beautiful yellow-orange when the sun goes up. You're snuggled with your face into Bucky's chest, while Steve has his strong arms wrapped around your waist to keep your back pressed against his chest.

Bucky turns slowly; after a while, the sun on his face is too bright to keep sleeping, plus both of your two super soldiers love to stay up earlier. Or wake up early to watch you sleeping like creeps - or puppies in love. You're not sure which fits better, because they are cute, but it's also weird and funny to know that they watch you while you're sleeping.

"Mornin'," Steve grumbles, pulling you even closer against his chest. Bucky chuckles, a low rumble leaves his chest, and he turns on his side to place an arm over your waist, his fingertips tracing Steve's stomach slightly. "Gonna come run and go to the gym with me?"

Bucky shakes his head, bringing his face to your shoulder and hiding it. He can be such a grumpy face in the morning, and it can be pretty funny when he's all grumpy and doesn't talk. Bucky's mostly growling, but even though you don't get many words out of the man in the mornings, you and Steve love it.

"So, you want to be grumpy and pull her into your grumpiness with you?" Steve jokes and Bucky growls once again. This time it's muffled with his face buried in the crook of your neck. Steve can't help the low chuckles slipping past his lips. He's bringing his hand to Bucky's head, stroking a few of his strands behind his hair. "Sleepy head and grumpy face working together, huh?"

"Mhm," Bucky hums, his tone sounding more happy this time. Steve keeps stroking his fingers along Bucky's cheekbone a while longer, his ocean blue eyes lingering on the both of you.

"You know, your lovely muscles - the ones you adore so much, especially when you can make them bulge in front of her—they need some training too," Steve keeps teasing the brunette. Bucky ignores him, pressing his face further into your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

"Loves them anyway," Bucky mumbles, and Steve's eyes widen. He barely gets a word out of his boyfriend's mouth when he just woke up. Steve chuckles, nodding; he pulls his hand slowly away and turns around to get out of the bed. "'N you too, majesty sunshine."

"Really, King grumpy?" Steve laughs at the nickname. Both of them got these nicknames after you noticed their different ways of behavior after waking up. Steve is - no matter how bad or cold the weather is - a sunshine. And Bucky is - no matter how sunny or warm it is - a grumpy face in the mornings. So, you called them by that name, and somehow they love it so much to tease one another that they keep the nicknames.

Steve gets out of the bed, chuckling still. Bucky pulls you even closer, tangling your legs with his while he sighs softly in your neck. His grip around your waist tightens, and he kisses the soft skin of your neck.

"Mine... all mine," he grumbles. Steve dresses himself, a soft smile spread on his lips. A few minutes later he leaves the room, ready for his run and his training afterwards. Both of them know that you sleep at least one or two hours more, but Bucky refuses to leave the bed and get cold himself or get the bed cold so you would freeze.

Bucky keeps mumbling something between praises and possessive words. When you slowly wake up after a while, he pulls you even closer, nuzzling your cheek. You're practically pressed into him, arms and legs tangled together, and you giggle softly when you feel his stubble against your soft skin.

"Possessive baby?" You mumble, and Bucky nods, agreeing to your question. He is always possessive when it comes to you or Steve. And he's gladly your baby when you want it, when it makes you giggle even more. "Big baby, aren't you? Did you throw Stevie out of the bed?"

Bucky nods, smirking slightly. "Mhm, he's sleeping on the ground now," he grumbles, earning another giggle from you. "You should giggle more often; it's cute."

"It makes the grumpy's heart melt?" You tease, and Bucky grumbles but nods once more. Of course, your giggles make everyone's heart melt, just like Steve's and Bucky's wouldn't dare to deny that because he knows it's true. No matter how grumpy he is, you're always making him happy.

"Mhm, yeah. Now, come closer," he grumbles, and you raise one of your eyebrows. Bucky chuckles low in his throat, turning the two of you until he's on top of you. "Yeah, we can be closer; don't try to tell me we can't. I can lie on top of you, and then you have me on top, on your left and on your right."

You laugh as best as you can with his weight on top of you. But he's right, his arms caging you in on both sides, and he's on top of you. Bucky hums happily, leaning his head down on your shoulder, kissing the soft skin softly.

"My baby doll. All mine," he mumbles against you. "Say it, baby doll, pleaseeeeee?"

You sigh and nod. "I'm all yours, grumpy baby."

Bucky lifts his head, grinning at you. After a moment you narrow your eyes. Your boyfriend usually eats breakfast before you get up, but today he's still in bed, cuddled up with you.

"Aren't you hungry?" You ask, a bit confused. Bucky shakes his head a bit before his grin widens and his eyes darken slightly. "But you haven-" You gasp when he pulls the blanket away and slides down, hovering with his head over your lower stomach. "Do we have a 'King grumpy is possessive' day?"

"Mhm, mine. Gonna have my breakfast now; let Stevie hear what he misses when he makes his workout instead of cuddling and eating with us," Bucky mumbles. His hands snake down your sides, curling around the waistband of your panties to pull them down. With a low growl, he decides to rip them off your body, too impatient and too lazy to move.

"Bucky!" You whine when you see the scattered fabric of your panties. Bucky grins, pushing your legs wider apart before he lowers his head and inhales deeply. A moan escapes your lips, his breath warm and teasing at your wet folds.

"Mhm, so pretty, all wet and ready for me, baby doll," he whispers, kissing your folds. His tongue licks a fat strap from your leaking entrance to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves a bit.

You moan, arching your back. Your hands gripping the sheets tightly while Bucky uses his talented tongue to get more of these sweet noises out of you. His hands rubbing up and down your thighs, steadying you a bit when he delivers such pleasure. Your hips rolling against his face, and Bucky chuckles when he keeps kissing your clit.

Bucky teases you when he pulls his head back slightly. Your hands shooting into his hair, gripping his brown strands tightly to pull him closer to your pussy.

A low hum escapes your boyfriend's lips when he dives his tongue through your wet folds once more. His strong hands gripping your thighs tightly to keep them spread wide. "Tasting so good, baby doll."

Your back arches, and you grip his hair tightly, trying to bring his skilled mouth even closer - if that's even possible. Bucky groans, kissing your clit when you tug at his hair. His eyes finding yours, his mouth never leaving your most sensitive parts.

"Need me to take a break, baby doll?" He asks, his voice rough. Bucky's usual blue eyes darkened, lust written all over his features. His plump lips finding their way to your clit, kissing and sucking softly at the soft bundle of nerves.

"N-No, please," you whine, arching your back. Your legs are trembling, and Bucky grins before he buries his face between your thighs once again. Whines and moans leave your lips, your head thrown back into the pillow while you pull Bucky even closer against your throbbing cunt.

"Can't get enough of me eating you out, can you, baby doll?" Bucky whispers, blowing a bit of cool air against your neglected entrance. You whimper, thrusting your hips against him to get more friction.

"She can't get enough of me eating her ass either," another rough voice comes from the door of the room. You turn your head; your eyes widen when you see your other boyfriend standing in the doorframe. His short hair is perfectly styled, and you really want to run your fingers through it to ruin the perfection.

Your eyes move lower over his chest and abs, still glistening in sweat from his workout. He's completely undressed, like always after his workouts; Steve always puts his sweaty clothes in the wash. You wonder why his hair is so perfect, maybe because of all the sweat. However, it's perfect, and the light of the room makes his body glistening softly. Saliva almost drools out of the corner of your mouth when your eyes settle on his hard cock.

Steve is shamelessly stroking the thick length in his calloused hand. He grins at you, noticing where you're looking at. His tip is leaking pre-cum, and you lick your lips instinctively. "That's what you need? My cock down your throat while Bucky eats your pussy? Or do you prefer getting your ass eaten out?

A whine creeps up your throat when Steve laughs, his eyes settling on Bucky, who still eats you like you're the most delicious thing he has ever tasted. He hums, playing with your clit until you almost scream from the pleasure that's rushing through your body. Though, it's still not quiet enough to throw you over the edge.

"Say please," Steve commands. The moment you try to open your mouth to ask him nicely to give you his cock, Bucky thrusts two of his thick fingers into you. You moan loudly, your body tenses, and your legs tremble around your boyfriend while you come.

Bucky smirks, thrusting his fingers against your spongy spot, causing you to squirt over his hand. "There she is, such a good girl, baby doll. Now let's see if Stevie can make you cum better eating your ass than I did, huh?"

Steve chuckles, shaking his head but walking closer to your - accepting Bucky's challenge. Since the brunette is always making jokes and teasing Steve about his obsession with your ass, he now has the perfect chance to show Bucky that he can make you come just as hard as Bucky when he plays with your cunt. Bucky kisses your thighs a few times, causing you to whimper while you slowly come down from your orgasm.

Both of your boyfriends change places. Steve grabs your hips, turning you around. Your arms and legs feel too weak to hold you up, so you let yourself fall flat down on your belly. Both men start laughing, admiring your sweet, fucked-out form.

"Princess, I need you on your hands and knees," Steve mumbles softly, letting one of his hands run up and down your back when his other grabs your hips to help you get up slightly. You growl, as much as you want this, as much as you want to take a break before he brings you to another orgasm.

The three of you know that you can take more than one orgasm, but you also know that Steve is just as skilled as Bucky, even when he eats your ass instead of your pussy.

"Good girl," Steve praises when you bring your knees underneath you and lift your ass into the air. Your face still pressed into the pillow underneath, and you sigh softly when he kisses from your neck down to your ass. "Mhm, good girl, such a good girl for us."

Steve kneels down on the ground behind you, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. His hands move to your ass, squeezing and rubbing your cheeks softly. Bucky undresses himself, his ocean blue eyes on you, a wide grin on his face.

"Yeah, let's see if our ass obsession is making you cum better than I can, shall we?" Bucky chuckles, walking around the bed to kneel down on it and crawl close to you. Steve shakes his head, raising an eyebrow before he leans closer to kiss the soft flesh of your ass cheeks.

You moan, looking up at Bucky, who grips you underneath your arms to pull you up. You pout, placing your hands underneath you to hold you up. Bucky's crotch is the same height as your face, the tip of his dick red and leaking.

He wraps his hand around his thick shaft, bringing the tip to your lips. Bucky sneaks his pre-cum all over your lips, letting you lick it away before he slowly pushes in. You immediately swirl your tongue around his cock, taking him slowly down your throat. Bucky groans, throwing his head back while he thrusts in and out of you. One of his hands is tangled in your hair to keep you in place while he rubs the other over your neck and shoulders. Something he always does when both of your men use your hole for your and their own pleasure.

Meanwhile, Steve keeps kissing you, helping you to relax a bit more after the first orgasm you had. "Ready to get your ass eaten like never before, princess?"

You moan around Bucky's thick shaft. Steve often made you come like that before, but somehow his voice has that mischievousness and holding a promise that he will make you come like he has never done before. You wiggle your ass, humming low in your throat.

Steve chuckles, his tongue licking a fat strap from your cunt to your puckered hole. Your back immediately arches, and you whine around Bucky's dick. His rips rutting against your face, his balls coated in your saliva and smearing it all over your chin.

"Mhm," Steve groans, trying to push his tongue inside of you. His hands spread out your ass cheeks, and he kept pressing against your tightest hole. He slowly breaks through the muscles, grinning against your skin when he works the tip of his tongue in and out of you.

One of his big hands snakes around your waist to your clit. You shriek, trying to crawl away from the pleasure he delivers. But Bucky and Steve hold you in place, Bucky's cock down your throat and his hands on your shoulders, while Steve keeps one on your waist and one still playing with your clit.

"S-Stevie..." you whine, arching your back. He chuckles, two of his fingers thrust into your cunt. You almost scream around Bucky's cock; they both know you too well to give you a chance to control your body or orgasm.

Your legs give out, and you almost fall forward into the pillow, but your men's strength keeps you in position. Your cum is squirting out of you, your body shaking, and tears roll down your cheeks from the pleasure. Steve doesn't let go of you until your orgasm has faded, and you pull off Bucky's cock to roll on your back.

You're breathing heavily, and you whimper slightly when Steve gets closer, kissing you softly. He lets you taste yourself, growling into your mouth before he pulls away softly. "Good girl, you did so good for us. Now, who made you come better?"

With a roll of your eyes and a chuckle, you point at both of your boyfriends. While Steve looks satisfied with your answer that him eating your ass is as good as Bucky eating your pussy, your brunette boyfriend frowns.

"You can't really mean that eating ass makes you feel so good, can you?" Bucky asks, tilting his head slightly. Steve laughs, pushing up; he holds his hand out for Bucky to take, and he does. With narrowed eyes and slight uncertainty on his face, he lets Steve guide him to where you were kneeling on the bed for them.

"Let's find out, shall we?" Steve pushes Bucky with his chest first on the bed. Bucky's legs are still on the ground, while his ass is directed to Steve. "Princess, do me the favor and sit down on Bucky's back; he needs something to strap him down, or else our big boy squirms too much."

Bucky growls, trying to push up, but with a still fucked-out expression and a smirk on your lips, you crawl closer and sit down on Bucky's back. Your wetness rubbing over his back, and he moans at the feeling of your cum all over his skin.

"Fuck, Stevie, she's so wet," Bucky groans. Steve chuckles low in his throat, kneeling down again before he kisses Bucky's ass cheeks, his tongue licking over his puckered hole, and Bucky immediately hisses. He grips the sheets underneath him tightly, cursing under his breath.

"Feels good, huh?" Steve laughs, probing at Bucky's hole. The blond man growls when he feels the tightness of his boyfriend. "Your ass is even tighter than hers."

Bucky rolls his eyes, earning a slap on his ass. Steve doesn't even have to look at Bucky to know what he just did. He brings one of his hands to the brunette cock, stroking it slowly while he keeps probing at the tight ring of muscles.

After a moment he finally breaks through the tightness. His fingers tighten around the other man's cock, while you start humping on Bucky's back, making him whine and squirm slightly. "Fuck, Stevie, please."

Steve grins against Bucky's skin, keeping his pace slow but tightening the grip around Bucky's cock with every stroke a bit more. After a moment he lifts his head, peppering soft kisses over the soft skin of Bucky's ass.

"Look at our girl, getting off while you get your ass eaten, Buck," Steve laughs. He lowers his head again, pushing his tongue inside of Bucky once more. Steve speeds up, making Bucky whine even more. His grip on the sheets almost rips them apart while he tries to arch his back with you still on top of him.

"Fuckkkk, please, Steve, fuck, fuck." Bucky moans, feeling the coil in his stomach tighten further. Steve laughs, speeding the movements of his hand around Bucky's cock up, loving that he's right - ass eating is giving a lot more pleasure than Bucky wanted to believe or admit.

"Mhm, Stevie, making him," you hum, bringing your fingers to your clit to rub it in harsh circles. You're determined to come with Bucky, and from the noises he makes, you know he's close, needing just a few more strokes before his orgasm crashes over him.

"You should see our girl, Buck. Touching herself, wanting to come so bad with you. She's not as fucked out as we thought after two orgasms," Steve says, between licks over Bucky's puckered hole. Bucky's hole clenches, his whole body tensing when the coil in his stomach snaps and his cum coats Steve's hand and the floor.

Steve slows down, watching you while you come once again. Bucky and you are panting, sweat coating both of your bodies while you both ride out your orgasms. The blond leans down once again to Bucky's puckered hole, pushing his tongue inside of him again to force more of the white liquid out of the brunette.

"Fuck... this-" Bucky groans, around, keeping you on top of him. You're not sure how he managed, but you don't really care. Bucky pulls you down on his chest, kissing you softly. "Get why you love your ass eaten so much. Got off while Steve made me cum, naughty girl."

You giggle, ready to snuggle into your boyfriend's, but Bucky lays you down next to him, his lips lingering on your forehead for a moment longer before he looks at Steve.

"Let's find out how fast we can make you cum," Bucky mutters with a grin. Steve shakes his head, lifting his hands, knowing what Bucky's tactic is to make him cum as fast as possible while still giving him all the pleasure he wants.

Bucky gets off the bed, his legs still wobbly, but he reaches out to pull Steve closer, going down on his knees in front of him. Bucky leans his head back, smirking, his blue eyes locked with Steve's.

"I want you to take what you need, Steve," he growls low in his throat, bringing one of his hands to the other man's cock. Steve moans, throwing his head back. His hands find their way into Bucky's brown locks, pulling him closer to his cock.

Instead of taking Steve's cock in his mouth, he lowers himself further, licking and sucking softly at the blond's balls. Steve whimpers, a sound he only makes when one of you plays with his balls - something you discovered by accident when you wanted to tease him, just to find out he loves when you play with them.

"There you go, Steve," Bucky chuckles, taking them slowly into his mouth. You watch your boyfriend, smirking at the pleasurable expression on Steve's face. Bucky keeps stroking the other man's cock, slowly, to keep the focus of Steve on Bucky's mouth around his balls.

"B-Buck..." Steve moans, his hips rutting and his cock twitching already. More pre-cum leaks down his tip, and Bucky grins. He keeps looking up, his eyes on Steve's face. When the blond-haired man looks down, he comes. The sight of Bucky - on his knees, mouth full of Steve's balls, while he strokes the thick shaft of the other man - is too much for Steve to hold back his orgasm. The cum shooting onto Bucky's face and in his brown locks.

"Mhm," Bucky hums, leaning back and licking the tip of Steve's cock clean. A whimper leaves the other man's lips, his cock feeling too sensitive. Bucky uses his fingers to clean his face a bit, sucking the cum off his fingers. "Tasting good, Stevie."

"This shouldn't be so hot; it makes me wet again," you pout. Bucky turns toward you, a grin playing around his lips.

"It doesn't need me to suck Steve's balls to make you wet after you came three times where you squirted two times for us," Bucky laughs, earning a growl from you. "But yes, let's help you with your wetness; your poor puss is all neglected."

"Bucky!" You laugh, getting off the bed to walk into the bathroom. Steve and Bucky's gazes follow you. Steve's still panting but slowly calming down, his body still glistening with sweat.

"Those orgasms are better than any workouts," he mutters, chuckling softly. Bucky gets up, pulling Steve into a soft kiss, before they both follow you into the bathroom. "She's not planning to take a shower without us, is she?"

Bucky shakes his head, grinning widely. "She wouldn't dare to take a shower without us, unless she's in need of a good spanking with a few more orgasms afterward." Steve chuckles, nodding before they both follow you into the bathroom to take a shower with you.

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