#birds humming the beat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

webism · 3 months ago

Text

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎HOT ROD !

After getting hooked on your taste, pornstar!satoru invites you and your pornstar boyfriend to shoot a threesome in the countryside.

pornstar!suguru x pornstar!satoru x fem!reader | part one, two

cw; ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she/her pronouns used for reader, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m and f receiving), anal (m receiving), mmf threesome, voyeurism.

The sun has barely risen, the typical tangelo orange of a morning sky is yet to develop—instead, you watch a dull pink canvas the sky, turned more of a rose colour through the car's windshield. Suguru Geto, your lover and costar alike, keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives. Occasionally, he'll tap his fingers against your exposed flesh along to the beat of the old niche rock song blaring through the radio. You have the volume up too high—which isn't good for your ears, but is great for the soul—and the windows rolled all the way down. The wind is in your hair, which aids the setting heat of Summer in Japan. It's quite pleasant out here. You're filming at a location you can only reach through an open road that goes right past some very scenic hills, and you're having a lovely time just enjoying your lover's company. Nothing but the two of you.

That being said—something sits at the forefront of Suguru's mind. You can tell his thoughts are preoccupied, having been with him so long gets you a sweet look into that pretty mind of his. So, when the strings of an electric guitar die out, you turn the radio down and shift in your seat to face him better.

“Cold feet?” You ask.

His hair is up and out of his face, save for a stand that falls over his eyes, though it’s pushed back by the wind regardless. He glances at you, smiles, and looks away.

“I don’t get cold feet," he says flatly, looking at you for half a second before his focus returns to the road. “I'm just interested to see if he'll fuck as good with me there, of if the poor guy will get performance anxiety."

Ah, jealousy it is. The flat kind, because your sweet-boned lover never gets openly jealous. You have to settle for half-bitten quips. You smile, "he didn't seem like the type to get performance anxiety."

Suguru hums in a noncommittal way, his lips pulling inwards. He squeezes the fat of your thigh and taps a finger against your skin. Your skin heats under his touch, it always does. You might earn your living through the most sensual of touches, but none of them quite set you alight like Sugurus does.

Well, except for Satoru. You try to avoid closing your eyes, in fear of being met with the memory of his cock sinking into you rather than the darkness of your closed eyelids. You feel half-guilty, despite Suguru's obvious itch to see you laid out for Satoru Gojo of all people. You know him, you wouldn't be driving forty minutes through the countryside if Suguru wasn't at least a little bit obsessed with the fantasy.

Satoru Gojo, a known name in the porn industry, got to fuck you stupid only a week ago. He had asked you out for drinks after, and though you rejected him verbally, you’re starting to fear that your mind didn’t reject him in the same regard. You had come home that night to your sweet Suguru, and told him all about being hit on by your co-star, to which he laughed.

And oh the irony, that your Suguru was balls-deep inside of you that night when the two of you got an email from Satoru’s agent– an offer, an expensive one. One shoot, a week from then, a threesome between his new favourite love birds and, of course, him.

Suguru remembers Satoru like he was the season prior, like the winter that bled into you, the spring. They did a few films together, Satoru got a little too stuck in Sugurus mind and then, once their contracts were up, they never spoke again.

The rising sun makes him squint against the road— he almost misses the turn off to the countryside estate you had been told to meet at. The place is nice, big, and you’re starting to wonder just how widely distributed this porno will be if the producer is shelling out so much money just for an estate to rent out for half a day.

“With how much they’re paying us, I half expected the budget for location to allow for a crack den at most,” Suguru snorts as he pulls in through the large paved driveway.

“No kidding,” you hum. With this paycheck, you’d just be greedy looking for work in the next few months.

Suguru parks and undoes his seatbelt with a sideways glance in your direction. “We’re a bit early,” he notes. “But it never hurts to get a feel for the place, talk to our co-star for a minute or two.”

You smile. “Mhm, talk.”

“Ready to get fucked for cash?” Suguru snorts, and opens his door to get out of the car. You follow suit, rolling your eyes at his crude words when your feet hit the ground and you’re closing your door behind you.

You walk around the car to meet your boyfriend, and he greets you with a pinch to your ass and a kiss to your temple. You’d recognise something poetic in the contrast of his actions if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of performing for him in only a few moments.

Despite both being pornstars, you rarely take scenes together. Threesomes aren’t a frequent venture— this is something relatively untapped for the both of you. And though you’re sure it would never jeopardise your relationship at all, you can’t help but entertain the worries that creep in. Will Suguru really not mind sharing?

You aren’t sure what’s worse— the thought of him getting overly jealous of Satoru and cutting the scene short, or the thought of Suguru not minding in the slightest as you get fucked stupid by another man. A little possession never goes unappreciated on your end.

“Hey,” Suguru’s silken voice brings you back to the now. “You okay? We can turn around and speed off into the sunrise if you want to leave.”

You grin. “I’m good. Excited, even.”

Your boyfriend nods and leads the way to the estate's front door. It’s closed, which is a little odd considering the production crew will be coming in and out with equipment and the such. You furrow your eyebrows and realise your car is the only one here—maybe you’re earlier than you realised.

“You checked the shoot time, right?” you ask.

“Yes, love,” Suguru makes it to the front door and tries the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck, maybe I should have triple checked.”

He presses a thick finger to the doorbell button and glances to you as the sound of an overly upbeat chime echoes through the estate. Maybe it’s the wrong place, too lavish to be true. Maybe it’s the wrong date, even. Maybe—

The door swings open, and standing to greet you with a knowing grin is Satoru Gojo.

His eyes meet yours first, and then drop to take in the rest of you. Something soft flashes over his face. Lust, perhaps, or appreciation, maybe both. His arms cross over his chest, leaning his body weight on the doorframe as he flits his gaze to your boyfriend, and his eyes return.

“Long time no see, lovebirds. Just on time," he chirps, stepping aside to let you in. "Excuse the mess, I just moved in."

It takes a moment for your brain to register his words, and Suguru is right behind you in thought. "This is your place?" he asks, appraising the foyer as he walks in.

“Mhm,” Gojo replies, and though you expect his lilt to be more cocky, he speaks smooth like silk. “The city is too… busy for me. Plus.. saves a dollar on renting out a house to film in, right?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips: from the looks of his home you doubt he’d blink an eye at paying rent for a night of filming. Still, you don’t know if he’s just trying to show off, or if he really wants his home to play backdrop for the shoot. But whatever the case, he definitely thinks it’s clever on his behalf to lead the both of you here. It worked, you give it to him, but damn.

You look around, taking in everything that catches your eye – the sleek furnishings, a wide kitchen to the left, and an elegant living room straight ahead. All of it feels clean and welcoming. You wonder, idly, what it's like for Gojo to live in a space like this all alone – if he is alone, that is. The question remains unanswered as Gojo leads the two of you down the hall until you reach another door and slip inside.

The bedroom you end up in is stunning; a double bed dominates the centre of the room with fluffy duvets thrown haphazardly over top, whilst the walls are painted a warm, calming shade of grey. The carpet is plush and dark brown in colour, the curtains hanging at either side of the grand windows allow for plenty of natural light to flood the room. There's a tripod set up with a very expensive looking camera pointed directly at the bed: Satoru points to it and grins at you and Suguru, "our camera crew."

You furrow your eyebrows, but Suguru speaks up before you can. "It's just us?"

Satoru nods, crossing his corded arms and he flits his gaze between the two of you. "Yes. I did specify it was a private shoot, lovebirds."

Your boyfriend settles in closer beside you than before, you can feel the heat from his body as he crosses his own arms, a mirror of the white haired man in front of you. "I figured it was a private production shoot," he speaks cautiously. "The email I got was from an agent, not you directly."

Satoru looks unperturbed. "'Course," he says languidly. "She handles all my correspondence."

Gojo turns to the dresser and, from the top drawer, pulls out two white envelopes. Your eyes linger a little too long on his slender fingers as he hands them over to you, one each. As you peek into the envelope handed to you, you find an obscene amount of cash neatly sat inside.

"As agreed, plus... a little extra for the commute," Gojo shrugs. "You can take it and go, if this isn't what you want. If it is, well..." He gestures to the bed. "I'm kinda dying here."

You glance down at his insinuation and find that he's beyond hard. His pants are tight and tented, making his arousal painfully evident. You have to force your gaze elsewhere – to Suguru, who is staring almost shamelessly at Gojo, his brows creased in the middle as he thinks.

The silence is deafening, you can feel the tension rising between the three of you, vibrating off the surface of your skin and permeating the air itself. Suguru seems to have made his mind up, because he turns to you with an awfully familiar look on his face: desire.

"Thoughts, darling?" he asks, and your stomach flips.

There's no point in pretending that there aren't things wrong with how your mind still reels after Satoru's touch. This entire thing has been confusing and disorientating; you're confused about everything – your feelings, your career, your sexual desires – and now, in your current situation, you’re downright torn. And yet, despite that, despite all the questions swirling around in your mind, as soon as your eyes land on Satoru's again – you know you'd die without another taste of his pink glossed lips. That feeling, the desire, the forethought of how he'd pant and whine after you've fucked him senseless – you'll do anything to achieve it.

This doesn’t feel like work anymore, not with the way these two men are looking at you. The camera isn’t even rolling yet, and yet you find yourself ready to fuck them both to the brink of oblivion.

So, without so much as a second of hesitation you pull away from your train of thought and turn to press your lips to Suguru's in a searing kiss. The action, so swift, causes Gojo's breath to hitch in his throat at the sight. Suguru kisses you back, of course, the hand that isn't holding his envelope quickly makes its way to your waistline and pulls you flush against him, leaving nothing but your clothes between the both of you. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck as Gojo watches the two of you intently, gaze burning into the meeting of your lips. You can feel him watching you, his spectatorship dizzying, and you bite Suguru's bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up your throat.

“Jeez, didn’t know this was a cuckolding shoot,” Satoru sounds whiney, threadbare with lust. “Though I wouldn’t mind that… another time maybe.”

You place a hand on the planes of Suguru’s chest as you disconnect your lips and turn your head to the white-haired pervert with heart-shaped pupils. Your grin is sweet, sultry - "another time, huh?"

You pull apart from Suguru and move past Gojo, making a point not to glance in his direction, until you're crawling onto the bed and turning to rest with your elbows propping you up. Both Suguru and Satoru standing, your observers - admirers, is a sight for sore eyes. The camera sits between them, propped up and set on you. In spite of it, you feel oddly at home. The same sweet excitement builds within you that you normally feel when it’s just you and Suguru at home. You didn't know the air could weigh so intimately in front of a camera.

It takes a moment of staring at you, jaw slack, for Satoru to finally spring into thought. He steps towards the camera, makes sure everything is looking good, and then clears his throat as he presses record. He almost looks nervous, and if he weren't so cocky in his usual demeanour you'd think he's getting cold feet. But you remember the way his eyes glossed when he pushed into you, how that confidence of his melted into carnal need in just one thrust. You know what you do to him, and god does it seem amplified tenfold with Suguru here.

And your black-haired lover must know it too, because the second Satoru makes a move to speak, Suguru cuts him off with a step towards him and a burning kiss pressed to his lips. Satoru's sound of alarm at Suguru's lips on his is almost enough to send you dizzy, but the true aphrodisiac is the sight of your lover taking charge with him; lips locked onto one another, the lewd noises they make as Suguru cups Satoru's face with one hand and scratches into the back of his hair with the other. Satoru's moans become louder and more desperate, as Suguru's tongue explores the recesses of his mouth, sucking hungrily upon the flesh of his lower lip. When the two break apart they're both breathing heavily, panting as they catch their breath. An undoubted look of longing is etched into every last one of their handsome features.

You feel your stomach roil with anticipation as you watch them, realising the camera is only pointed at you, capturing your wanton expression. But then, it snaps, and suddenly your lovers are pulling apart to instead lay their gaze on you, resting back on Satoru's wildly comfortable bed sheets with a lust-driven smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re a fucking lucky man, Suguru,” Satoru coos, blue eyes raking over you in appreciation. You’re hardly undressed, and yet you feel naked under his gaze. “Don’t know how you can do porn when you’ve got such a pretty thing waiting for you at home. It’d ruin my performance.”

“I know,” Suguru says plainly, truly. "You've never been good at multitasking, have you Satoru?"

"Harsh words," Satoru pouts, giving his best imitation of an overly dramatic frown. "I can multitask just fine, do you need me to prove it?"

Without a word further, he plucks the camera from its tripod and points it at Suguru. "For example," he sing-songs, "I can fuck and film at the same time."

“Can’t do it dressed,” you point out, to which both men turn to find you already stripping yourself of your clothes. Satoru turns the camera onto you, finding it a sin to not capture you revealing yourself with such delicate fingers. You look into the lens, eyes sultry as you’re known for doing, and wonder just how many people are going to slip their hands under their waistbands at the sight of you.

Once you’ve laid yourself bare, your naked skin feels static with the tension in the air, you reach your hands out and make grabby-hands at Satoru. “Pass the camera,” you hum. “It’s your turn.”

A glance between themselves, and then Satoru is leaning over the bed to slot the camera in your hands. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be, but feels nice and cooling against your otherwise sweaty palm. Satoru’s fingers brush over yours as he hands it over, something electric stills the room for a moment, and then he pulls away with a cough.

He hadn’t realised that Suguru had fallen into place behind him, because when he steps backwards and his back hits your boyfriend's chest, Satoru gasps. You capture the pink blush that speckles at his cheeks, and the beautiful way in which Sugurus hands snake around his body to caress down his chest.

Suguru has always been gifted in the way of sparking intimacy. It’s why the porn he shoots is usually so artistic, he’s sensual. And Satoru, not for the first time, is falling victim to his seductive ways. The gentle traces of his fingers down Satoru’s chest is testament enough to just how narcotic Suguru’s touch is. When he reaches the hem of his shirt and starts lifting upwards, unwrapping his next meal, Satoru can’t help but lift his arms and help move the process along — he’s feeling beyond restless.

Now exposed, Satoru’s chest and torso are now at the mercy of Suguru’s searing touch. Each trail of his fingers down the white-haired man’s chest, each tweak over his surprisingly sensitive nipples, each rough kiss against the column of his neck, they all elicit the most pornographic moans from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You study them both through the camera’s screen, and watch as Suguru presses his lips against Satoru’s ear.

He speaks in hushed tones, enough so that you know the camera isn’t going to pick up on his words. You can hear them though, only just, they're low and sensual and entirely full of sin. "You're lucky I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend for a second time," he purrs. "You know, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your last shoot. We watched it together the other night, I matched your rhythm, let her pretend it was you. She’s obsessed."

You're almost embarrassed by the confession, a burn sheens your skin, but the way Satoru's eyes darken impossibly further calms you. Suguru grins, catching your gaze from over Satoru's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his earlobe. "It brought me back, too," he says. "To when I got you to myself. You remember our films, hm? You're just like she is."

Satoru nods, the tips of his ears turning redder. His breathing is shallow, ragged, needy; and in a split second he's turning around and returning his lips to Suguru's. Desperate hands lift at your boyfriend's own shirt, exposing his tattoo-laden skin underneath. His jeans soon follow, and then so do Satoru's pants.

For a moment it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Satoru's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Satoru takes Suguru's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Suguru's throat.

And when they part, it's obvious just how much heavier the air has gotten. Suguru turns your white-haired tryst and pushes him towards where you sit on the bed. "Move your ass before I fuck that too," he deadpans.

Satoru doesn't blush like you expected he would. Instead, he grins. "That would be a big change from last time, don't you think?" he sing-songs, eyebrows raised as he steps further towards the bed. "Or maybe you don't remember crying from how well I stretched you out, I sure do, all pretty and��"

This time Suguru does flush crimson, and you laugh out loud at this revelation. "I didn't know you bottomed for him," you shake the camera a little with your laughter, capturing the way Suguru glares at Satoru from beneath long eyelashes, "that's something I've got to see."

"Hah," Suguru climbs onto the bed and snatches the camera from you, settling on his knees as he points it down at your form. There, his fingers graze lightly against your bare skin, making you arch your back in anticipation. "Tough luck, pretty."

His black boxers are beyond tented, and he slips them off easily enough, allowing his cock to spring free, perfectly poised and ready for your hand. The sound of Suguru's moan as your fingers wrap around his length is paired with the shuffle of Satoru climbing onto the bed too. He hovers above you for a moment, watching you stroke Suguru through the camera, before taking it from him with a grin.

Satoru returns the camera to its stand and checks its positioning before climbing back onto the bed and settling himself just behind you. You turn to smile at him, and then gasp as his hands tentatively find your shoulders. He peers over you, to the sight of Suguru’s drooling cock in your hand, and presses a kiss to the skin just under your ear.

“You know I’m fucking obsessed with you, right?” He purrs, glancing down to your boyfriend's cock before pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you. I dreamt of breaking you and your boyfriend up until I found out it was Sugu, here. Wanted you all to myself, pretty thing, but I think I’m happy enough to share now, because god do I want to see your lips wrapped around his cock.”

“Mm,” you hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you’re making demands?”

Satoru smiles, his lips glossy and so perfect you could cry. “I want to taste him on you.”

His words light a fire in your core that licks through your body, ravenous. You can't help but oblige at his words, returning your gaze to sweet Suguru before dipping your head down and pressing a chaste kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. Suguru and Satoru both inhale sharply when you do so. You wet your lips with your tongue and then meet his cock again, drawing lazy circles across his tip before closing your lips slowly, reverently around the shaft of Suguru's cock.

Satoru's hand pushes down a little on your shoulder, and you're forced forward onto your lover's length. Your moan betrays you and sends narcotic vibrations down his shaft, making Suguru grunt and buck his hips forward a little. Satoru, who remains behind you, gently takes hold of your hips and manoeuvres you into more of a doggy-style position — your fingers splayed over Suguru's thighs to try and find purchase as Satoru leans over you.

Gojo's chest presses against your back, skin-to-skin intimacy broken by the feverish kisses he presses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades, your spine, His kisses become hotter, wetter, open-mouthed as he moves down to your waist, large hands playing with the flesh of your ass as he kisses a path down. You moan and shift against his grip, moving your hips in an effort to push yourself back against his boxer-clad erection, but Satoru only snaps you forward, and you choke a little as you're forced to take Suguru's cock even deeper down your throat.

"Fuck," Suguru hisses, pretty purple eyes meeting yours as you look up. Drool glosses his length, slick and hot and heavy against your tongue when he finally gives you a moment to breathe.

Your mouth immediately goes back to work again once your breathing steadies, hollowing out your cheeks and dragging him down, deeper, faster, more desperately. The receipt of pleasure etched into Suguru's tight-wound face is enough to spur on your own needs, but you nearly choke when Satoru Gojo bites into the fat of your ass. Your body arches up and you squirm and whine, but Satoru is relentless, licking over the indentations left behind as Suguru snaps his hips into your open mouth over and over again.

You barely have room to move before Satoru is pushing your knees apart with a strong hand, the heel of his palm firm against your ass as he spreads you open. He takes a moment, heavy breaths fan against your exposed slick, and you’re suddenly all too aware of yourself. You’d protest, tell him not to stare if your mouth wasn’t full with your heavy-lidded lover's cock. You don’t even know why you’re embarrassed — you’re a pornstar, your job is to lie subject to the most intimate of ogling.

Your thoughts melt into the bedsheets, however, when Satoru groans and connects his lips to your pussy. Stupid off the taste of you alone, he whines against your slick heat, enamoured. His tongue flicks over you, circling your clit repeatedly and making your insides burn. You moan, and it comes out muffled and breathless around Suguru's dick.

"You taste so fucking good," Satoru speaks against your cunt. One hand slips between your legs, running two fingers through your folds in collection of your arousal, whilst his other hand tugs down at his own boxers, pulling his cock free and growling against your pussy as he starts to stroke at himself. "Fuuuuuckkk..." He pushes two fingers into you, easy with just how wet you are, and curls them in tandem with each pump of his cock.

Each thrust of his fingers pushes you just that little bit further onto Suguru's length. And you're thanking god that he's there, because without his muscled thighs to hold onto, you fear you’d be fucked too dizzy to keep yourself upright. You figure you must look a mess now, hair mussed and eyes bleary and drool rolling down your chin and all over Suguru's pulsing cock.

You feel pathetic with how quickly your orgasm crests. Satoru must feel it too, how you clench around your fingers, the subtle tremor in your thighs, because his tongue only speeds up in its assault. He's still stroking himself, keeping you open and willing as he sucks your clit harshly. Once you're right at the brink, teetering off the edge of ecstasy, Suguru pulls out of your mouth and leans down to crash his lips against yours.

"Come," he orders into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "Come for us, darling, come on now."

You're overwhelmed by Suguru's rakish lips over yours, and Satoru's relentless tongue over your sex. Before you can even try to present yourself for the cameras, you're cumming, hard. You writhe against Suguru, and your nails scrape across his thighs until you can hardly draw breath. The world slows down around you, leaving nothing but pleasure to consume.

"Holy shit," Satoru’s breath comes out in a hitched sort of laughter as he pulls back, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of your lust that coats his mouth and chin. “My head’s spinning, I think I’m in heaven. Do I still have a pulse?”

He makes a show of checking his pulse, despite the way you roll your eyes. You’re still coming down from your climax as Suguru peppers feather-light kisses over your face. Satoru, feeling more hungry than doting, brings his two fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean. Suguru catches sight of the action and gently pulls back from you, something knowing in his eyes.

You assume he’s going to redirect your head back to his cock, let you finish your job, but instead he tuts and nods his head to your shared tryst, who is still diligently working at tasting you some more on his fingers.

“Think someone’s a little pussydrunk,” Suguru grins, and you do too at the sight of Satoru Gojo so blatantly desperate for more. Your eyes drift down to his cock, long and hard and weeping with precum.

Though, you don’t want to neglect Suguru, so you turn back to him — “you didn’t finish,” you make a move to reach for his cock, still rock hard and achy-looking, but your lover shakes his head gently.

“Got other plans,” he nods subtly to Gojo. “How about we show our stalker here just how much better the real thing is?”

You grin, catching onto his drift, and watch over your shoulder as Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes. “You know, I’ve had the real thing, from both of you.”

“You haven’t had both of us,” Suguru shrugs. “And I know you’ve fucked your fist to the thought of it. Don’t lie, or you won’t enjoy this as much as you could.”

Satoru’s loaded remark gets stuck in his throat as Suguru pulls away from you entirely, though not without a gentle kiss to your forehead first. He stands by the bed, rolls his shoulders and nods to Satoru — “go on,” he gestures to you, still on your hands and knees. “Taste me on her lips.”

Satoru would probably blush if he weren’t so dedicated to the promise of a taste, because he’s got a hand under your stomach and is flipping you onto your back with ease in only half a second. You sigh at the reprieve of the strain on your hands and knees, and revel in how soft Satoru’s mattress is, when he’s collapsing on top of you with a strangled growl and his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a strange thing, to taste both Satoru, yourself, and Suguru at the same time. You taste Satoru in the way he kisses, hungry and listless, with knocking teeth and exploratory tongues. You taste Suguru in the remnants of his cock in your mouth, the precum that has coated your tongue, mixed with your saliva that now mixes with Gojo’s. And you taste yourself glossed on Satoru’s lips; your climax, the buildup of pleasure he had gifted you with both his mouth and fingers.

A strange mix, maybe, but a perfect one nonetheless. You have to close your eyes to stop yourself from growing too dizzy, and also partly to stop yourself from worrying too hard — how were you meant to enjoy anything to its full potential now that you know how this tastes?

Satoru’s cock presses against the inside of your thigh; you can feel the gentle thrum of its pulse — a testament to his aching need. His arms box you in on either side, settled comfortably between your still-shaky legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips to his, and his eyes are darker than you remember.

“I need to be inside of you, need. You’re fuckin’... god I can’t think.”

As if by instinct, your legs part further, allowing him the access he so craves. It’s a fluid movement, the way he moves one hand down to direct his cock to your slick folds. He rubs himself against you, his tip kissing your clit teasingly. You suck in a shaky breath between parted lips, and when he doesn’t hurry up despite his desperation, you feel like you could cry.

Though, before a complaint can leave your lips, you're watching as Suguru joins you two on the bed, kneeling behind Satoru and running his long fingers gently down the white-haired man's bare back. Satoru's head falls forward at the touch, and as your boyfriends hand runs lower and lower on his back, you realise exactly where this is going.

"You're gonna fuck her good," Suguru purrs, graceful in his touch. "Because I'm going to help you -- that okay?" He reaches back up, brushing his knuckles from between his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine until he reaches his tailbone.

Satoru's eyes are locked on yours as he answers your lover. "Yes," his exhale is beyond needy. "Please, god. Yes."

And from there, things move with practised ease. It feels normal to submit yourself, your body, to Satoru. As Suguru takes hold of either side of his waist and guides him into you, the stretch is searing. You remember just how hard it was to adjust to his size the first time, having to try and keep your face melted neutral for the cameras. You don't feel that same pressure now, despite Satoru still filming, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling of Satoru inside of you.

"You're..." you try, words stuck in your throat as Suguru pushes Satoru's hips into yours a little more. "Please."

Satoru takes control of the pace, his breath hot and heavy on your cheek, his body moving in sync. You moan as he starts thrusting slowly in and out, stretching every muscle in your body as you get used to the feeling. With every thrust, you feel him getting harder and deeper within you, and his mouth dips down to trail along the sensitive skin on your neck.

It's a narcotic, the way he fills you. He's longer than Suguru, though not quite as thick, but he reaches depths that aren't typical for you. As he sheathes himself deeper and deeper inside of you, with the help of Suguru's hands on his waist, You slowly become spineless; relaxing into the pleasure of his sweet push and pull.

Sweat beads at your skin as Satoru quickens the pace, pulling out and plunging back in again with unbridled whimpers as Suguru works on taking his fill. Your boyfriend, domineering though still gentle, starts working your tryst open with one of his fingers.

"Ah- fuck," Satoru's words are heady with need, the initial discomfort of Suguru's fingers pushing into his ass are quickly forgotten, replaced with a deep yearning for more sensation. It sends his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out inside of you at such depths you can't help but cry out. It's a symphony of wetness and gasps of air, each syllable punctuated by Satoru's frantic movements. Your body grows tighter and tighter around Satoru with every pass as he gets worked open so beautifully by Suguru.

Your mind is clouded by everything Satoru has done to you and by the sheer force of him filling you with his cock and all that comes with it. You're completely and utterly lost in the moment, consumed by Satoru, who is consumed by Suguru, who is consumed in the pleasure of serving you both in turn.

"More," Satoru is barely able to get the word out as he slams deeper and deeper inside of you. "Fuck, more."

And Suguru isn't one to deny a pretty thing like Satoru such pleasures; he's pulling his fingers out of him in seconds and replacing them with the head of his cock at his ass. Suguru is gentle, but unrelenting as he thrusts himself into Satoru in one fluid motion. The pressure is enough to prick tears at Satoru's pretty blue eyes, which you reach up and wipe away from underneath him.

A moment is shared, a chance for Satoru to breathe the best he can, before he's testing the waters and pushing back a little, onto Suguru's cock, before thrusting his hips forward, into you.

This is ecstasy incarnate. The two men seem to merge together, their bodies melting as they meet. Suguru fucks you through Satoru, each thrust into him is a thrust into you, into the both of you. It almost hurts, you'd wager, the way your whole body throbs in synchronization with theirs, the way Satoru moans as Suguru drives you both to insanity. It's a weird way to connect with your lover, but one that works nonetheless, the both of you seem to share an awful yearning for the man sandwiched between you, fucked mindless.

And then he's driving your entire being towards the edge, and you feel the orgasm coming on, the rush of blood to your head, your muscles tightening around Satoru. It's a strange feeling of being connected to something bigger than yourself, a system working in tandem with each other to chase climax, but it's a feeling you're quickly growing addicted to. It's warm, it's comforting, and most importantly, it's yours. This man right here, his body pressed tight between yours and Sugurus, is yours. Even if only for the early morning.

"Gonna cum," you whine, lips ghosting against Satoru's. He nods, eyes locked onto yours.

"M—fuck—me too, baby. God, you have to let me come inside of you, doll, can't deny me, please. You—"

"You better," Suguru cuts in, his voice biting from behind Satoru. He thrusts sharply into Satoru, sending him keening forward into you, pressing right into your sensitive g-spot as Suguru hits his prostate in a mirrored pleasure. "Wanna watch you claim her," he bears down, "gonna fill you up, you fill her — watch her face, Satoru. Watch what you do to her."

You gasp as Satoru's fingers dip down to rub frantic circles over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm with each knock of his hips into your, of Suguru's into his. the room is filled with a chorus of moans and whines and desperate pleas for more and more and more. You know you'll never recover from this level of arousal if you don't come soon, but before you can find purchase in your body and begin your descent into bliss, Suguru is first to come undone.

His hips snap forward into Satoru, head craning into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulders for some sort of physical gag — ever the one to stifle those beautiful noises of his. And the feeling of being filled in such ravaging volumes must be enough to send Satoru over the edge, too, because he's knitting his eyebrows together and cumming ropes into you in only moments.

"Fuck," he whines, once again tears prick at his eyes, overwhelmed by the duality of his pleasure, of you and Suguru, so close to you but also never close enough. He wants to be one with you, a complete unit, bound by sex and soul and the sweet sounds of the most powerful orgasm he's ever had in his life.

You come in tandem with him, it's completely blinding. Your legs fall apart as you cry out, nails scraping across Satoru's bicep as the world melts away and the sensations start swirling about in your mind's eye and the last thing you register is Satoru collapsing forward, breathing raggedly into your ear.

You catch the salty flavour of him as you suck in a lungful of air and smile in response, fucked stupid and blissful and never ready to give this feeling up. Never ready to give anyone else this feeling- god, you already despise whoever gets to taste Satoru Gojo next.

Suguru has to pull out of Satoru slowly, and you wipe at his face with the pad of your thumb when it scrunches up in protest of the loss of Suguru’s stretch. Before he can truly call the scene over, though, Satoru leans down and presses the most gentle of kisses to your lips. A myriad of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’s spill from his tongue as he does so, each word cut by a kiss to the expanse of your face.

And when he pulls out of you a sickening gush of his cum follows. It spills from your aching pussy and onto the bed sheets beneath you, though Satoru doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He swipes his finger through the mess he’s made of your sex, smiling when you hiss at just how sensitive you are, and brings his cum-coated finger back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours.

Your stomach flips at the sight. Great, he’s gone and fucked you lovestruck.

“Satoru,” a clean voice cuts in. Your head constricts in your fucked out daze when you turn to see Suguru standing by the tripod, his eyebrows raised and pretty purple eyes beyond amused. “It’s not even fucking recording.”

Instead of being confused, Satoru looks sheepish. He flops down onto the bed next to you, eyes glossy and cheeks blushed pink. “I…. can explain? I think I’d rather die than share the two of you with the world. But I’d really die if I didn’t get my hands on you both.”

You meet your boyfriend's gaze. Something passes between you, something knowing. In a weird, probably unhealthy way, you both feel the exact same. This was never a scene for the cameras, anyway— not when such strong… feelings are involved.

“I’m not proposing marriage here,” Satoru huffs when he catches onto your shared gaze. “I just, you enjoyed it, right?”

You giggle from beside him, your sweat-soaked skin cool against the air. Suguru chimes in with his laughter, melodic and beautiful. He folds his arms and watches the two of you laid across the bed.

“Let’s get you both cleaned up, then,” Suguru hums. “I’m not fucking either of you again until we’ve shared a shower.

TAGLIST: @sugurubabe @fullbelieverheart @starrysho @meowforluv @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra @inconcise @sexcults @hotgirlgoob @mistalli @ourfinalisation @graceloveslanadelrey @blessed-princesa @plinkuro @pe4rl-diver @sugojosgf @beachaddict48 @chimmysoftpaws @blendingcaramal @dongh9e @caramelised-onions @kyluskaye @sammywo @4evrglow @hiraethwa @stinkinstuffie @tomiokasecretlover @ser0t0nln @yuzu-ku @lagataprrr @dear-fifi @hel-lhound @kensqueent @sserafin @dabisdolly @zoroisminty @angelkazusstuff @reinam00n @kaeyakaikai @bunny416 @littletittygothgirl @glitterbitch1 @saccharine-nectarine

cont in comments !

6K notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 3 months ago

Text

Sometimes you often forgot just how big Jason was in terms of physicality.

He was like a towering monster whose shadow could encase you but it was warm, protective and secure, leaving you feeling like the most safest person in Gotham.

You often forgot how big his hands were until his callouses were pressed against the back of your hand, hiding yours completely from sight as he closed his hand fully enveloped yours whole, keeping them warm from the cold that he knew you had a love/hate relationship with.

You forgot how effortlessly you could burrow yourself into his broad back, big enough to hide yourself behind whenever you felt fear, or just needed to be close to Jason in order to feel something in general as you nuzzled your face between his shoulder blades and hearing his strong heart beat that grounded you from just about anything.

You could hide away behind him and no one would be none the wiser until Jason stepped to the side, which he never did as he always assumed his position as your wall rather seriously, too stubborn to move for anyone who wasn’t you.

Jason has the physique that is told in Greek mythology, his hands were strong, his thighs were sturdy and powerful as his back and chest were nothing to scoff at either. He was beautiful with all his scars and callouses, for he was the most beautiful man to you who never failed to read chapters from his book to help you sleep, all the while he cradled your form against his larger one.

You often forget about Jason’s physical stature because it didn’t matter to you how big he was, or how strong he was because at the end of the day he was your Jason, he was the man you loved so dearly as you kissed his scars tenderly and caressed his callouses with softness as though you’ll hurt him somehow if you pressed too hard.

He was a giant teddy bear with you and you could only see the sweet, literature dork of a man who holds you close to his chest as though you were his personal teddy bear. His stature and physique didn’t frighten you, it reassured you and comforted you in more ways than one.

You forgot about his physique when his personality shone brighter for you to pay more attention to, his big strong arms that held you from behind, pulling you to his chest were merely a bonus as you snuggled into his neck and pressed kisses to under his jaw and making him hum in content. He was your sweet jay bird who always put you first no matter what, his unwavering loyalty left no room for insecurity or doubt within your relationship as you had found the perfect man in Jason Todd.

A man with flaws and errors of the past etched into his skin, but to you he couldn’t be more perfect as he smiled and laughed with you while keeping you close to him, as though afraid you’ll disappear but you’re more then willing to cling on to him in return…even if your hands don’t meet when returning his embrace in due to how big he was in general.

Yet still he was your precious Jason who was perfectly imperfect in your eyes, his towering and intimidating stature was merely a bonus to the awkward but endearing man that laid beneath.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagines #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagines

3K notes · View notes

rafecameronssl4t · 1 month ago

Text

What's ours || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: canon fic based off this scene in s4 ep6!!!!

Warnings: angst!!!

Word count: 2, 458

A/n: HAD to write abt this scene

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

"Rafey?" your voice rings out as you step out of the shared bedroom, the soft sound of your bare feet padding against the wooden floor. "'M out here on the porch," his voice calls back, low and calm, carrying just a hint of warmth. A smile spreads across your lips as you pick up your pace, excitement bubbling in your chest. Sliding the glass door, you step onto the porch, the late afternoon sunlight casting a golden glow across everything it touches.

There he is, lounging casually on the couch, his polo clinging to his broad shoulders and biceps in a way that makes your stomach flutter. "Hey, baby," Rafe greets, his smile wide and genuine, the kind that always has a way of making you feel like the most important person in the room. "Hey," you murmur, your eyes locking with his. You pause for a moment, giving him the chance to drink in the sight of you.

With a playful glint in your eye, you do a small twirl, letting the flow of your new dress spin out around you, the fabric catching the evening light. You watch Rafe’s reaction carefully, feeling a thrill at how his gaze moves down your figure. "What do you think?" You ask, the words soft but full of a quiet confidence. "It looks good," Rafe says after a beat, his eyes lingering on you for a fraction longer than you expect.

There’s a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his lips, and when he leans back against the cushions of the couch, his eyes never leave you. "You look good," he adds, his voice deeper now, like the words are heavy with more than just praise. You beam at his words, crossing the porch to close the distance between you. "Where you going lookin’ all pretty?" he teases, spreading his legs slightly as he pats his thighs, his grin turning sly.

The gesture is an open invitation, and you happily accept, settling onto his lap. Your arm slides naturally around his shoulders, and his hands find their place on your knee, the warmth of his touch grounding you. "Just shopping with the girls," you explain, playing with the collar of his shirt absentmindedly. "There's this new boutique that just opened up—" You’re cut off by the sound of the front door creaking open and a hesitant voice calling out, "Hello?"

Your brows furrow as you glance at Rafe. "Were you expecting someone?" you ask, your voice laced with curiosity. Rafe exhales a sharp breath, "Yeah," he admits nonchalantly. "Sarah." Your surprise is instant, and your voice reflects it. "Sarah? She agreed to meet up with you?" He chuckles, the sound warm and a little cynical. "Yeah, well… desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess." Before you can process his words, Sarah’s footsteps sound on the porch, slow but deliberate.

Your eyes shift to the doorway, and soon enough, her figure appears. She glances at you briefly as you move to sit beside Rafe, her gaze cool but not unfriendly, before turning her attention to Rafe. "Hey," he greets her with exaggerated enthusiasm, clapping his hands together with theatrical flair. "Thanks for showing up. Good work." Sarah doesn’t miss a beat, rolling her eyes as if she’s heard this act too many times. "Please, stop," she says flatly.

Rafe grins even wider, running a hand through his buzzed hair, clearly enjoying the reaction. You shift slightly, about to stand to give them space, but Rafe’s hand tightens gently on your waist, silently urging you to stay. "I don’t want to argue, Rafe," Sarah sighs, crossing her arms as she looks at him. Her tone is exasperated, but there’s something softer beneath it. "We already have enough people against us."

An awkward silence settles over the porch, the only sound being the occasional chirping of birds in the trees. The air grows heavy with the weight of unspoken things, a tension that seems to hum between them. You clear your throat, trying to ease the tension. "Can I get you something to drink? Iced tea, maybe?" you offer, your voice polite, even as your eyes flicker between Sarah and Rafe, sensing the undercurrent of frustration.

Sarah’s eyes meet yours, her gaze flicking over the space with an almost detached interest before she shakes her head. "No, thanks. I don’t plan on staying long." You nod, the smile on your lips soft but understanding. There’s something about the way she holds herself—tired, wary—that makes you feel a strange sense of empathy. It’s clear she’s not here for pleasantries.

"Kiara mentioned…" Sarah starts, her voice uncertain as she scans the porch, her eyes flitting from the furniture to the surroundings, clearly uncomfortable. "That you might be able to help." She directs the latter half of her sentence at Rafe, her gaze lingering on him, but there’s a hesitation in her tone, a quiet pleading buried beneath the words. Rafe pulls at the sleeve of his polo, his fingers tugging at the fabric.

He doesn’t look up immediately but instead turns his attention to the ground in front of him, gathering his thoughts. "Uh, no. No, not with the land stuff. You guys are on your own with that," he responds firmly, his gaze briefly flicking up to meet Sarah's. There's an almost apologetic edge to his words, but it's clear that he's drawing a hard line in the sand. Sarah’s expression falls, disappointment flashing across her face, her shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of unspoken words is pulling her down.

"Right," she mutters softly, the edge of frustration in her voice barely concealed. She pauses, taking a breath before looking back at Rafe. "Sorry," Rafe adds, his voice quieter, almost regretful, but the frustration is still evident. "But…" He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the papers scattered across the table before him, the flicker of something heavier passing through his eyes.

"But there's… there's something else I wanted to talk to you about," he says, his tone shifting. It’s not just business now—there’s a vulnerability that creeps in, something raw beneath the surface. You watch him, your eyes tracing the subtle movements of his hand as he runs his fingers across his lips, trying to gather the right words. You stay silent, your own gaze fixed on his profile, your heart picking up pace as you sense the shift in the air.

This is no longer just a casual conversation—it feels more like a breaking point, something much deeper. "So when…" Rafe starts, his voice faltering slightly, the words coming out with an almost painful deliberation. He takes a moment, his eyes lingering on the papers again, then he looks down at your left hand resting on his shoulder, his gaze momentarily softening when it lands on the ring you wear—the one his mother gave him.

"Dad died," he finally says, the words coming out like a slow exhale, as if speaking them is harder than he’d like to admit. You feel the change in his tone immediately, the sadness in his voice gripping you, and you instinctively start rubbing gentle circles on his shoulder with your thumb, your mind connecting the dots, knowing how touchy the subject of Ward’s death always is for Rafe.

"...the first time," Rafe adds, his voice quiet, as though even acknowledging that death was not the final one is too painful to process fully. "um, he said I got a quarter of what he had," Rafe continues, his voice distant now, lost in the past as he leans forward, flicking through the papers with a focus that feels almost obsessive. "Yeah, he said I got a quarter too," Sarah chimes in, nodding slowly.

There’s something tired in her voice, a recognition of the weight of their father’s legacy that neither of them ever truly asked for. "But you didn’t get it, did you?" Rafe’s words are sharp, his gaze intense as it locks onto Sarah. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a quiet demand for the truth. Sarah hesitates for a moment, the silence stretching longer than it should. You can see her thinking, weighing her words carefully before answering.

"No," Sarah says finally, her voice quiet but firm. "Yeah, well, good luck trying to get that from Rose's greedy paws," Rafe scoffs, the bitterness dripping from his words. "She's got that money locked down tight." Sarah’s brows knit together, "well, I keep trying to call," she retorts, her tone sharp. "She won’t even let me talk to Wheezie." She crosses her arms, her gaze flickering away as if saying it out loud makes the situation even more real.

Rafe leans forward, his elbows digging into his knees as his expression hardens. "Yes, yes, that’s what I’m saying," he says, his voice rising slightly. He locks eyes with Sarah, a fiery determination in his blue gaze. "We’re a family, and I’m not—" He cuts himself off, inhaling deeply as he shakes his head. "I’m not even allowed to talk to my own sister? That’s not fair, Sarah. You know that."

Sarah’s jaw tightens, and she slowly nods, her lips pressed together as she looks down. "And then Rose," Rafe continues, his arm gesturing wide as his frustration boils over. "She just gets to keep all that gold for herself? What gives her the right? That’s not what Dad intended." His fist slams into the wooden coffee table with a resounding thud, causing Sarah to flinch in her seat. The tension spikes in the air, and you instinctively place your hand on his shoulder, your touch firm yet gentle, hoping to ground him.

"That’s not what Dad wanted," Rafe repeats, his voice cracking slightly as he pounds the table again. Sarah visibly recoils this time, her discomfort palpable. "And it pisses me off!" Rafe’s voice rises, his anger spilling out unchecked. But before his hand can connect with the table a third time, you reach forward and grab it, your fingers curling around his. "Rafe," you say softly, your voice calm but firm. His eyes dart to you, and for a moment, the fire in them dims.

He exhales sharply, leaning back slightly as he glances at Sarah, who keeps her gaze down, avoiding his. "That’s our money, okay?" Rafe insists, his tone quieter but still edged with frustration. Sarah lets out a shaky exhale, her hands fidgeting in her lap as Rafe sighs heavily, running a hand over his buzzed hair. The silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable, until you place your palm on Rafe’s thigh, your thumb brushing soothingly against the fabric of his shorts.

He glances at you, and you offer him a small, reassuring smile. He manages a faint one in return before looking back at Sarah. "I don’t know about you, but I really—I need that money," Rafe admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability. Sarah’s gaze snaps to him, her expression hardening. "And what about the gold cross you stole?" she counters, her tone sharp and accusatory.

"It was gold-plated," Rafe shoots back with a shrug, rubbing his eyes as if the conversation is draining him. "It was a good score. It’s not endless. It’s not like the Merchant gold, so..." His voice trails off, exhaustion creeping in. "I’m so sorry to hear that," Sarah says, her words laced with sarcasm. Rafe exhales through his nose, standing abruptly, "I don't know. I was just thinking, um." Both you and Sarah track his movements as he walks to the porch railing, gripping it tightly before turning to face her.

"You know, you and me," he starts, gesturing between them, "we try to get Wheezie back." Sarah’s eyes narrow in disbelief. "How?" she asks, her voice flat, as if she’s waiting for him to say something ridiculous. "I don’t know, but..." Rafe admits, pacing back to the table. He moves the glass in front of him before perching on the edge, leaning closer to Sarah. His proximity makes her shift uncomfortably, but she doesn’t move away.

"And then we try to get the money back," Rafe continues, his voice steady and resolute. You can see the determination etched into his features, the way his jaw sets and his eyes gleam with a fervour you know all too well. He pauses, his gaze fixed on Sarah. "Which is why we need to work together," he says, his tone almost pleading now. "Just like Dad taught us. We align our interests." Sarah’s lips press into a thin line, her eyes fixed on the table as Rafe quietly watches.

"I just thought, you and me," Rafe begins again, his voice softer. "We can get back what’s ours." There’s a beat of silence, the weight of his words hanging between them. Sarah bites her lip, her gaze darting to Rafe, then away again. "Look, I’m trying here—" Rafe says, but Sarah cuts him off, rising to her feet abruptly. "No," she says firmly, shaking her head. "I’m sorry."

She turns and strides off the deck, the sound of the front door slamming shut echoing behind her. You stand, moving to where Rafe is still perched on the table, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. Your hands find his shoulders, squeezing gently as he lets out a frustrated groan. "Can’t she see that I’m trying?" he mutters, his voice laced with annoyance. "Like seriously—" "Shh," you murmur, your thumbs massaging the tense muscles in his shoulders.

"I know, baby. I know you’re trying." You move to stand in front of him, slotting yourself between his legs as he rests his forehead against your stomach. Your manicured fingers run through his buzzed hair, the rhythmic motion calming him as he exhales deeply. "When will she realise that we’re on her side here?" he whispers, his voice tinged with despair.

"You just have to give her time," you reply softly, your fingers stilling for a moment. "She wants to trust you, but she can’t just yet, Rafe." He tilts his head to look up at you, his blue eyes glassy. "I’ve already lost Dad," he says quietly, his voice cracking. "I don’t want to lose her—I don’t want our family to fall apart." Your heart clenches at the raw vulnerability in his tone. You cradle his face gently, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as you hold his gaze.

"Listen to me, Rafe," you say, your voice steady and full of conviction. "You won’t lose Sarah, and your family won’t fall apart." His lips press into a thin line, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "How can you be so sure?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just know," you reply softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "Because I believe in you."

1K notes · View notes

casuallyanidiot · 3 months ago

Text

Yantober Day 1

Love at First Sight [Yandere Forest God x Gn.Reader]

Using @ozzgin's Yantober prompt list!

Tipjar :)

Tw! Dead dove do not Eat! MDNI, NSFW Noncon, oral sex (recieving), Yandere, Implied kidnapping

You go into a newly acquired piece of land to survey it for your job when things start to become strange...

1.7k words

There was something wrong with these woods.

You were used to seeing some kind of anomaly in your field studies. Maybe the deer or rabbit population was too high, or you would find that an invasive species was beating out a more native one. It was never crazy though outside of the normal, exhausting sludge that was conservationist work. You were sent out by the local government to different wildlife reserves, or areas that were undeveloped to do some basic surveying and then come back and give them updates.

This forest wasn’t any different, initially. It was a newer addition to your city’s ownership, sold to them by a smaller, dying rural town. There were talks of what to do with the land, but first you had to be sent down to make sure they wouldn’t violate any regulations or kill off an endangered species. Not that they really cared. After all, your job was to get professionally ignored.

So you went in, camping gear and your truck in tow, and you began to explore.

Again, it was normal at first.

It was an average area. Normal flora and fauna. In fact, it was kinda impressive how well the area seemed to be doing. There was hardly any trash, no signs of destruction, no weird occurrences. It made you feel kinda happy. You went about your days just noting stuff down, humming happily all the while.

It was fine until the staring started. It began with a squirrel or two. They would just sit there, unmoving, unblinking, always just in the corner of your vision. Odd, sure, but maybe they were trying to see if they could get some of your food you always carried with you? Days passed and it escalated to a couple of birds added in, perched on branches and hidden by thick leaves. Then some bunnies, not even eating or twitching their little noses.

You thought you were going crazy, but nothing could prepare you for when the bigger animals started doing the same damn thing. The deer were one thing, already unsettling and strange, but having a bear watch you, still as a stagnate pond, was terrifying. You weren’t sure what to make of it. The only time the oddly behaving creatures would move were when either you’d get too close (in which they’d back off) or when you explored the forest (in which they’d follow after you in some sort of procession).

You noted it all down of course. You assumed that it might be an illness, or perhaps they were used to humans? But they didn’t look unwell, and from what you understood, this place was rather isolated, so there was no reason for them to approach you this often. You felt a sense of growing unease with each passing day, with each filled page in your field journal. This was getting too weird. The thing of note was obviously the staring, but you figured that it was definitely not in your area of expertise.

That’s why, after weeks of camping and surveying the woods, you decided to get the fuck out of there.

You packed up your campsite with little fanfare, hundreds of tiny gazes trained on your back. You glanced around as you loaded up a final few things into your truck, and you had only just realized then how many of them there were. The fauna crowded around the clearing you had settled in like a bated audience, and you shuddered. If you weren’t getting paid so much to stake it out here, then you probably would’ve hightailed it much faster.

“Okay… got my keys…” You mumbled and shuffled through your pockets quickly to make sure you weren’t leaving anything behind. “Should be good to go now.”

“Go where?”

You spun around, nearly jumping out of your skin in shock. Behind you stood a man, imposingly tall with a stony expression and dark skin. You pressed your hand to your now rapidly beating chest as he towered over you with a tilted head.

“Where are you going?” He repeated, and he prompted out a hand that was seemingly carved out of a deep bark to beckon your words out. You were shocked. His hair was seemingly made of vines connecting him to the earthen ground and shifting in unnatural ways.

“Uhhhh, back home?” Was all you could say in a slightly unsure voice. Seriously, you were at a loss for words. You had never seen such a person, and through your stuttering mind, you were able to guess that whatever was wrong with this place was probably his doing.

The man’s eyebrows (which looked as if they had been carved into his face) furrowed slightly. He placed a hand on his chin in contemplation, his dark hollow eyes and pure emerald pupils narrowing slightly.

“But,” he started, and it felt like his words rung over a hundred times in your head, shaking and lumbering through every node of your soft brain tissue. “But I thought you had come to live here,” He mumbled and reached forward to touch your arm. You flinched back on instinct, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Flower…” The man chided softly. His seeking fingers were more insistent this time, and you could not move back quickly enough before he was snatching you up and drawing you close. You cried out softly as you fell against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and sighed, shivering in contentment. You cringed at the feeling of shifting, wriggling grass and vines.

“Flower, surely you must know that you cannot go,” He sighed while he ran his hands over your scalp. You blinked. Flower… why was he calling you this? You pushed him back slightly, just to look him in the face.

“I’m sorry but, who are you?” You asked. It wasn’t just a name thing, but rather to say ‘who do you think you are?’. He hummed in response, and you can see him taking in every little thing about you. Suddenly, he laughed.

“Don’t you think it’s cruel, my flower? You ask my name but I know naught of yours,” He said with affection blooming between every roll of his tongue. Your vision spun, and suddenly your back was pressed against soft earth and damp grass. You gasped and cried out. Before you could even protest, your shirt was ripped open and your pants were pulled down.

“What silly things you wear,” He chuckled and placed kisses along your neck. The feeling was strange, slightly rigid. “Is this what mortals wear nowadays? So revealing,” He murmured and toyed with the shredded fabric. Your eyes were wide, and you tried to wriggle out from under him. He merely grabbed you by the hips and pulled you back, the vines from his hair enveloping you and wrapping around your limbs. You squeaked as your thighs were pulled apart by the coiling greenery, digging into the softer flesh.

“I must admit,” the man moved back, letting his breath ghost over your parted legs and crotch. “I was rather taken with you from the moment you arrived.”

The strange man held you down as he buried his rugged face and strangely glowing tongue in your entrance while stroking your privates with grooved, deft fingers. Your back arched, and you desperately tried to break free. Your frantic pleas for release were soon broken by the sounds of your breathy moans, and your voice rang like a bell in the clearing. Each lap of his rugged tongue sent shivers down your spine and had your toes curling.

“W-what? Stop that! Let me go!”

Your keys were discarded in the grass, and those fucking animals just kept staring. You could see your writhing, pinned form in the reflection of hundreds of deep, black unblinking pools. You felt sick to your stomach, and no amount of fluttering arousal could disguise that.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had company, and you come here looking like that. No, you’re going nowhere, flower.”

It felt like years were passing as he kissed, licked and held your hips in place with a tender firmness that would have you blushing if he was your lover. Or at least a lover you chose. Your begging was drowned out by your own frantic heartbeat and the humiliating squelch of your own pleasure. Never had you faced such cruel adoration, such gentle violence. Any place that had previously shown off exposed skin was kissed in a brief moment of reprieve from the onslaught. Your arms, your calves, your collar bones which had only just peaked out from under the neckline of your shirt.

Your truck, covered in mud, but still rather nice nonetheless, slowly began to be pulled into the ground by the flowers and flora rapidly growing on the vehicle. Your things! You tried to reach for them, but a hand of his reached up and entwined his fingers with yours.

Your screams of both pleasure and fear were carried by the wind, weaving through trees and filling the forest as naturally as the rustle of leaves. He continued to eat you out, and it was like you could feel his words in your head simply from the graze of his palm. It was overwhelming, and with each wave of heat, each tremble of your body, you sank further and further into his hold.

“Oh, look at you, my flower,” He pressed reverent kisses to your naval. “How you shall bloom in my care.”

More pressure, more bitter white flashes dancing across your vision as you keened and cried. Branches rustled around your face, and you wondered when they had even gotten there in the first place. They sprouted from his back and shielded you from the sun and sky.

“-made for me-”

“-love…”

“Flower…my flower…”

You caught bits and pieces of his voice, nestled in your ears like sticky pollen. It was too much, and all at once you had come undone, spilling over his face with an anguished, strangled noise.

It was hard to think after that. All you could feel, all you could know was that you were being dragged back into those deep, dark, very wrong woods with a loving smile slotted against your lips and flowers in your hair.

#my writing #yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere x you #x reader #yandere god #yandere character #yantober #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #october prompts #day 1

1K notes · View notes

stunie · 4 months ago

Text

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI X F!READER — sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ mild cw alcohol ﾉ 596 word count ﾉ og req ﾉ in which ushijima picks you up and takes you home after you’ve had a little too much to drink and accidentally overhears you talking about him to your friends . . .

“Ehh? You really think Toshi is scary?”

He stops in his tracks just inches away from your friend’s door. Ushijima was never really the type to eavesdrop like this, but for some reason, his body had decided that he should wait this one out and listen. Just for a little. “..Why’s that?”

Your words sound a little slurred. Though he already knew you would be like this to some extent as soon as he received a text from your friend asking him to come by and take you home.

“Well…” one of your friends speaks up. “He’s just kind of intimidating, you know?”

The little noise of confusion he hears from you paints a crystal clear image in his head. You’ve always made that sound whenever you tilt your head to the side a bit— as if doing that would help you understand better or something. “Hmm… intimidating..?”

You start laughing. As if it’s the funniest thing you’ve heard all day. He hears your laughter muffled under something and assumes you’ve moved to hug and snuggle up against one of your friends. “Toshi? He’s not… not at all.”

“He’s the sweetest soul alive. I can prove it.”

“Oh? Can you? Tell us then.” Your friend chuckles a bit when you start humming and sighing, and he thinks one of them has started rubbing your back. You’ve always loved that. You make the exact same noise when he does that too. “Sure.”

Ushijima’s lips curl into the faintest trace of a smile when he hears the way you giggle— like you’re ecstatic just by being asked to talk about him. You really like him that much?

“I don’t know where to start,” it’s clear you’re talking through a big smile, and it only makes it harder to understand you— but he can. “One time, my heel broke. And so.. he carried me for the entire night. We were…. were at a festival, you know.

“I was on his back for hours..!”

Oh. He remembers that. The two of you had gone to try out different food stands, and he would feed you by holding up the fork with a piece stuck on at the end. You’d lean down and take a bite like some kind of bird perched on his shoulder. He remembers feeling really happy that night.

“And…. this other time…” your laughter trails off, and he raises a brow. “I was really sad. I was crying, and you know what he did?”

Oh, now that sounds a little more personal. Ushijima decides that it’s finally time to take you home with that.

“What did he do? Oh— look who’s finally here.”

You and your friends all turn to look at him as soon as he enters the room, though it would be hard to miss someone like him in the first place. His first thought is that he was right about you cuddling up with one of your friends. Your arms are wrapped tightly around their middle, face resting on their lap, and you barely muster up the energy to turn to face him.

“Ehh….” It looks like sleepiness is finally starting to hit you now that you’re comfortable. “Toshi? Ah… I’m imagining things now… hi, Toshi’s ghost. I’m his girl…”

You smile at him. It’s a big, sleepy smile— and it still makes his heart skip a beat, even if he doesn’t seem to outwardly react to it.

“Let’s go home.” He’s gentle when he kneels down beside you, gesturing for you to return to your favorite spot on his back. “You need rest.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #hq ushijima #ushijima x you #ushijima fluff #haikyuu ushijima #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fic #eviewrites

1K notes · View notes

mostly-imagines · 8 months ago

Text

Scenes From an Afternoon Odyssey

jason todd x fem!reader

aka a day in the forest

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: reader wears a bra

middle picture art by spaceboykenny

You’ve nearly reached the peak of the slope, the uphill trek putting quite a toll on your legs. Jason insisted on holding your hand because his longer stride tends to put him several steps ahead of you. The sun beats down on your backs, the uptake in the heat of the day actually feeling quite nice compared to the chill that’s swept over Gotham recently.

Upon arriving at the flat plane, you take in a pretty array of sunflowers and a thoughtfully placed bench.

Jason halts his steps, looking back at you. “You need a break?” He asks, noting the way your breathing has become a bit labored.

You hum, taking a deep inhale. “Just for a second,” you say, plopping down on the bench.

He reaches behind him to fish the water bottle out of the pocket of his backpack. “Drink some water.” he says gruffly, holding the bottle out to you.

You don’t particularly feel like you need water again just yet, but you know better than to try and fight him on something related to taking care of yourself. It’s a losing battle and he’s proved it time and time again.

You take the drink from him, taking a couple sips. He eyes you with disapproval, bringing his hand up to tilt the bottom of the bottle up more. You down a few gulps, trying not to smile.

He takes the bottle back from you, taking a couple gulps of his own. Once the water returns to its pocket, he sits down next to you, hand massaging your thigh. In turn, your hand moves up to the nape of his neck, playing with the short hair there.

Despite your claim, you sit for longer than a second, listening to the birds chirping and the leaves rustling in the wind. It really is a beautiful day and Jason knew a great trail that’s hardly ever busy. It’s aways away from Gotham, but any excuse he can take to get the two of you out of the smog filled city, he’ll take.

Between the serenity of the scene in front of you and the warmth of his touch on your thigh, your breathing steadies pretty quickly.

You peer at the path ahead, taking note of how level and easy it looked. Your hand flattens on the base of his neck as you turn to him, “I could beat you in a race.” You say decidedly.

He huffs out a laugh, meeting your eyes with a glint of amusement shining in his own. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” You smile, nodding, “Been waiting for a chance to prove it.”

You stand up, turning around to take his hand and pull him up with you. He does most of the work for you, pulling his weight up himself.

“You wanna go?” He smiles, looking down at you.

“Do you wanna go?” Your smile grows impossibly, and Jason decides right then and there that he’d do absolutely anything to see you light up like that again.

You figure a sprint is your best chance, you’re not willing to bet that you can beat out a vigilante when it comes to endurance. Especially considering the uphill incline almost took you out.

You settle on a finish line about 30 feet away, and as you position yourselves to start, you feel your overconfidence begin to cave back in on you. His stature swamps you out, and it's becoming clear that you’ve got no real chance here. In any case, you’ve committed and this is happening.

“Ready…set…” both of you have the idea to start before you say go, taking off with haste.

You’re laughing as you run, which isn’t doing you any favors with keeping ahead of him, though you’re able to maintain a pretty neck and neck match.

Did he let you win? Yeah. He’s a gentleman, of course. He’s right on your tail though, and lifts you up from under your arms as you cross the finish line, nipping at your neck as you giggle.

He sets you back down gently, “Alright, fast girl. You need a drink?” He tucks some stray hair in your face back behind your ear.

“No, I’m...” You pause, scanning around. You point at a big tree along the side of the trail ahead. “You see that tree right there?”

He glances over, “Yeah?”

You take off sprinting for it without another word. And apparently cheating is a quick ticket to him dropping the act and beating you without an ounce of mercy.

You’re sitting on a relatively level branch in a tree next to Jason, one of your legs resting on top of one of his. You swing your free leg back and forth, biting into your sandwich.

There’s a couple juice boxes balancing in the small space between you, both half empty. He’d laughed at you when you picked them up from the store on the way there, but he drinks it all the same.

He holds your ziplock bag of chips out to you and you take a small handful, popping them into your mouth. When your hand moves to return to your side, he takes it in his own and presses your knuckles to his lips gently.

With a sly smile, you watch butterflies dance around each other and listen to birds singing their offbeat songs. And you think about Jason. You think about how he held you in his arms last night so you could fall asleep while he read. How on the way up here he’d held your hand as you balanced across the stones, forcing him to walk at a much slower pace than he’d probably prefer. You told him he could walk a little ahead, but he’d insisted on holding your hand so you didn’t “slip and bust your head open” in his words.

You wouldn’t know it, but he’s combing through his own set of memories of you too. It’s a bit silly to spend so much time dwelling on these warm memories about someone that’s only right next to you, but you’ve both found it’s hard to stop.

It used to scare Jason, how often you occupied his whole mind. He’d never felt such intense adoration and devotion before that he’d nearly mistaken it for fight or flight. It was foreign and strange, and it felt like danger. But it didn’t take long for the effects of his love to kick in like a drug, and now he can’t get enough of you.

But you don’t feel like a drug, you feel like a cure. You make him feel like himself again, like death never got a hold of him and like he’s an innocent soul anew. You treat him like it, at least.

Maybe it’s silly to fall into such a deep pit of thoughts about you when you’re right there, smiling so bright over at him and gleefully pointing out a couple of squirrels that are fighting over an acorn. But he’s happy to let you take up as much space in his head as you want.

You sit with your legs dangling off the pier, shoes cast aside so you can enjoy the cool water. Jason sits a few feet behind you, laying down against the wood of the dock, the sun beating down on his face.

The water is a beautiful blue marble reflection, and the sun radiates down on your skin, sending warmth throughout your body which combats the light breeze handily. You lean down and dip your hand into the water, letting it run between your fingers like thread.

“Can we swim?” you pipe up, looking over your shoulder at Jason.

He raises his eyebrows at you, “You didn’t know there was a lake up here.” He means he knows you don’t have a swimsuit under your clothes.

You shrug, “There’s no one up here.”

He scans around mildly, before looking at the water. “Yeah, okay.” He tugs his shirt off his back, coming to a stand.

You grin, pulling up the material of your own shirt from your waist. Once it’s swept over your head, Jason’s left in just his boxers and not a moment later you’re in a similar state.

He smiles at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and it takes you no time at all to realize where he’s going with this. He lifts you up off the ground and dives off the dock, submerging you both in the water.

You bob back up out of the water, not even trying to suppress the glee on your face. And somewhat to your surprise, neither does he.

You’d had dinner at the manor with his family last night and you were still a bit attuned to Jason’s closed off, stoic mood that he gets in around them. He feels something akin to insecurity when he openly emotes around them. Vulnerability, maybe. Either way, you know he hates the feeling and will avoid it at all costs so it’s nice when it’s just the two of you and he gets to act like himself.

Unlike Jason, you can’t quite touch the floor of the lake, so you tread with the water wavering at your neck. The water barely reaches the start of Jason’s shoulders as he stands before you.

He closes the small space between you before his arms make their way under your thighs, lifting you up out of the water slightly. He looks up at you with a lazy smile as you wrap your legs around his body. Your cheeks warm and you hold his face in your hands, leaning down to kiss him with heat.

He deepens the kiss, thumbs rubbing at your thighs as his head tilts back. Your thumbs stroke at his cheek in turn, smiling against his lips.

He actually whines when you pull away, chasing your lips. You rest your hands on his shoulders, simpering down at him.

“Alright, slow down, hotshot. We’re not doing anything in a lake.” You laugh, pushing the dripping white streak back with the rest of his wet hair.

He huffs, “If there was anyone around here I promise you would not be half naked right now.”

You push yourself off of him, dropping back down into the water. “Other people are the least of your concerns,” you say, grinning and splashing him in the face, backing away with haste.

He blinks the water out of his eyes, laughing. “That’s how it is?”

You bite your lip as he approaches and you continue to retreat. “Can’t have you losing focus.”

He raises his brow at you, wearing a smile that says that you should know that was a mistake. He proves it as he dives after you, lifting you up over his shoulder and tossing you into the water with an unfair amount of ease.

You’re a bit hidden away in the tall grass, the scent of lavender flowers placing you in repose. You’re laying with your head in his lap, eyes closed as he pages through his book.

He’s reading out loud, though if you’re being honest, you haven’t fully processed a single word he’s read in at least ten minutes. He’s good at making you relax with his voice, and the amount of exercise you’ve gotten in today is doing nothing to slow it down.

You can’t think of when he started playing with your hair, but it feels soothing and frankly it’s making you very sleepy. Between the gravelly lull of his words and the rustling of the flora throughout the field you’re about to pass out.

“I’m gonna fall asleep.” You mumble, eyes shut.

His hand stills and he extends his book away from his body so he can see your face. “Sweetheart, there’s not a chance in hell you were awake that whole time.”

“I was,” you say, blinking up at him blearily. “I was just resting my eyes.”

He looks down at you skeptically. “How long have we been here?”

You click your tongue, “Like fifteen minutes.”

“It’s been an hour and a half.” he says simply, flipping his book shut from the last page as proof.

“It has n—” you look up at the sky and notice the sun is in a wildly different spot than it was when you’d first laid down. You’re almost completely in the shadows of the trees now. “Wh—why did you let me sleep for so long?”

He hums lowly, “You looked peaceful.” He pauses, “Pretty.”

He looks at the sky, squinting. He nudges you off his lap gently, coming to a stand. “Come on. The sun’s gonna start going down soon.”

You groan and he pulls you up to join him, your fatigue tailing after you. You lean your weight against him and rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes again. “Let’s just stay here.”

You feel him shake his head. “Can’t stay here, sweetheart. Who’ll feed the strays back home?”

He’s right. You can’t leave them to dumpster dive again.

You groan louder as you pull back and stand up straight. “You did not mention that the trail was so long.” You look down at your sore legs and try to stretch them out a bit to get energy back in them.

When you look back up at him, he’s swinging the backpack on, but he stops midway, dropping it to his side again.

He slugs his backpack over your shoulders, turning his back to you and bending down a bit. You take the hint and jump up. He catches you with ease, hoisting you up higher.

He starts down the grassy path out of the field, sidestepping flowers and bumblebees as he goes. Your head lulls to the side and ends with your cheek resting on his shoulder.

He bobs you up, “If I’m carrying you all the way back to the car you have to stay awake.”

“If you’re carrying me all the way back to the car, what difference does it make?” you grumble, eyes fluttering.

“Keep me company.”

You pick your head up and press a kiss to his neck. “I can do that. What do you want to eat tonight?”

He hums thoughtfully. “You wanna get pizza?”

You nod, pleased. “Big day for us.”

You have one arm draped loosely over his shoulder and the other lags by your side. “Are you going on patrol tonight?” You ask him.

He peers back at you haphazardly, “Uh, no—will you hold onto me, please?”

You’re nowhere near falling, but you know that’s not why he wants you to hold onto him. You’re happy to oblige though. You wrap your arms around him, crossing them over each other so you can hold onto his shoulders.

Seemingly content, he continues, “No, I’m not. Wanna stay in with you.”

“Aw. Going soft on me?” You rag.

He hums deeply, “Or maybe I'm just sick of being around Dick.”

You scoff, “Well, if you’re gonna be mean.”

“I’m literally carrying you right now.” He shrugs you up a bit in emphasis. Fair enough.

You look up and can see the pinking hues of the sky in between the leaves of the trees, glowing down softly on you. Your mouth twists into a contemplative frown. It takes you a moment to piece together where you’re at, but you eventually realize you’re only halfway back to the car. “I don’t think we’re gonna make it back before sunset.”

“That’s okay.” He tells you.

You rest your chin on his shoulder, a bemused pout on your face. “You hate it when I’m outside after dark.”

“I hate it when you’re alone outside after dark.” He corrects.

“Ah.” You nod, thoughtfully. “But now I’ve got my strong boyfriend to protect me, right?”

He scoffs but you’re just upset you can’t see the flush on his cheeks that you’re certain is there.

Though he shows no signs of struggling, you’re beginning to feel guilty that he’s spending his day off lugging you around.

“I can walk.” You offer, pushing yourself up a bit, ready to jump down.

“I know.” He says simply, shrugging you up higher.

2K notes · View notes

arminsumi · 1 year ago

Text

❀ 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝟐 Gojo Satoru / Geto Suguru

Falling in love despite a language barrier.

𝐂𝐡. 𝟐 | 𝐖𝐜. 𝟐.𝟗𝐤 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Satoru blinks awake to see your face. His heart beats harder.

結局昨日は夢ではなかったのか？ Yesterday was not a dream after all?

He's not an early bird at all, but from the first day of your visit he magically woke up early as if his soul was too excited to sleep when it knew you were right there, in the flesh. No screen. Just you.

When the first day starts, it feels like you've always been together. Was there ever a screen separating the two of you? And were you really going to disappear behind one again in just a month?

今のところ、彼女はここに留まるように感じています。彼女が訪問を終えて出発するとき、私は空港で赤ん坊のように泣くことになると思います。 For now, she feels like she's here to stay. I think I'm going to cry like a baby at the airport when she leaves after her visit.

Morning routines are carried out. The sky is cloudy at first, threatening rain, and by the time you three cluster into the kitchen to make breakfast together, it starts raining.

You and Satoru banter like two cats. Suguru's morning rasp is very strong.

"Satoru... uh... sugar?" you ask, preparing to make yourself a second one and automatically making Satoru another one, since he looks still very bleary-eyed even after spending an hour freshening up in the bathroom.

"...? Yes?" he tilts his head, then you raise the sugar cube jar. "Yes. Uh... four. Thank you."

Suguru's blushing because of the cute tension between you and his best friend. It fills the whole kitchen, which already felt full with their two bodies and a third one now. Everyone keeps bumping elbows and yet not complaining about it, in fact it's enjoyable to be squished together. Maybe because you three waited so long to be together in person, you don't mind it.

There's a silent, ever-present comedy in the air about the tight proximity.

You hum happily, tossing in one, two, three... four? That's a lot of sugar. "Suguru, tell Satoru he mustn't have so much sugar all the time. It's not good for his health."

Suguru laughs. "I try to tell him that every day. But his sweet tooth is incurable."

"His dentist must hate him." you smirk at Satoru, who's been looking at you blushingly after hearing his name mentioned.

彼女の声が今では一番好きな音だと思います。 I think her voice is my favorite sound now.

もう一度私の名前を言ってください。 Please say my name again.

"Satoru? Coffee?" you interrupt his lovey-dovey thoughts and he suddenly reanimates himself, because for a moment there he zoned out and just stared at you with those pretty eyes.

"Mmm... thanks." he takes the coffee from you with a noticeable timidness that you can't quite explain. There's a lot about him that's indescribable, you're having a small internal crisis; aren't you supposed to be fluent in English? And yet you can't even begin to describe just how sweet and gentle Satoru behaves. The most you can do is use metaphors that barely justify him.

"Suguru, tell her... her voice is nice, and also sorry for cuddling you in my sleep (and that she can definitely kick me away at night if it bothers her.) Also!" (the three of you head into the living room, and Suguru habitually trips over the cat who stalks under his feet too quietly to notice) "Also tell her... if it rains today, does she still want to go out? Because if we go out in the rain, she might get sick. And I don't want her to get sick on her trip. Not that I'd mind taking care of you, Y/n, of course."

Suguru lets out a long sigh and pulls a funny face. You smile amusedly.

"...It's too early to be a translator..." he grumbles in English after Satoru overloads him.

"What? C'mon tell her everything I said!"

"Let me have my coffee first. How about the two of you write to each other?" he suggests, putting the rim of the cup to his lips and sipping languidly.

"Eh, fine." Satoru pouts, and stalks off into his bedroom to get his phone.

Then, when he's in his bedroom, his chest flutters for some reason when he sees your suitcase standing there opened and emptied into the free cupboard space. He takes his phone, smiles at the homely feeling of seeing your belongings in his room, and leaves.

"Oh..." he has a sudden idea, and remembers the magnetic drawing board that's hanging in the kitchen. He and Suguru usually use it for writing reminders to each other, like get milk or you're an idiot or sometimes it has doodles of Mint the cat with sunglasses on.

So he returns to you with this magnetic drawing board, and points at it meaningfully, then holds one finger up and bows his head as he begins writing very slowly.

Suguru's checking the weather forecast and muttering sour complaints under his breath to you. "Of course it would rain for three days just when you arrive... at least by the weekend it will be clear and sunny..."

"Mmm... it's alright. A little rain never hurt nobody." you respond.

"I like your optimism." Suguru compliments flippantly at first, but then continues; "It's really uplifting. I think Satoru said something about you being a joy once, he said it really poetically but I can't recall it now."

"Aw..." you dip your head beneath your coffee cup, hiding the bashful expression on your face, which Suguru chuckles at.

And then, for a long moment, you just stare and watch Satoru writing on the board. You're completely captured in this moment, completely captivated in his enveloping presence as he sits next to you. He has slow, meticulous wrist movements. His knees press together, like he's worried that he'll invade your personal space if he sits too comfortably close to you. Funny, considering he cuddled you all night and you had no complaints about it.

He's writing very simply and neatly, just like how he texts you. You're a bit baffled by the characters he's using, though he's trying his best to avoid using any kanji knowing that you don't know a lot of it. He's sure you can figure things out by slowly pronouncing each hiragana character, or at least he hopes.

"Here." he hands you the magnetic drawing board, and then raises from the couch to go feed the cat.

"Minto-Minto... " he calls after the cat and makes a small cute sound to lure her out.

You're trying to read each hiragana character, eyes squinting a bit.

Suguru leans in close to you. He just takes a look, but the proximity for some reason gives both of you butterflies.

"Ooh... that's cute." Suguru comments after reading what Satoru wrote. His voice reaches deep in your tummy.

"Hm... I'll spell it out and... figure it out... anyways, why did you name your cat Mint?"

"Oh... well. There's two reasons. So the first..." he sets down his coffee, like he's about to tell you a great story, "Is because Satoru watched this show called Tokyo Mew Mew growing up, and he liked the character Minto. So he calls her Minto. And then I agreed on calling her that, but I call her Mint, because I hate mint the herb."

"You — haha, wait what? You call her Mint because you hate mint?"

"Yes. I hate mint, both the herb and the cat. She hates me too, clearly." Suguru raises his hand to remind you of how the cat scratched him the night before.

"Such a cute Hello Kitty sticker..." you tease.

"Thank you. Only the manliest men wear Hello Kitty Bandaids."

"How did she scratch you anyways...?"

"Oh, she likes to hang out in the washing machine if Satoru accidentally leaves it open. And when I try take her out of her comfy spot, she scratches me."

You sympathize, "Poor thing."

"What, the cat or me?" Suguru laughs.

"The cat." you lie teasingly.

"Wow! And here I thought you were being sympathetic!" he raises his brows.

You giggle and look at him, eyes finally making contact — ooh no that's bad bad bad, better break it immediately. So the two of you look away like you've both just indulged in a taboo intimacy. His stomach flips.

"Minto has been fed. She gave me cuddles." Satoru comes back into the room, and you admire the feeling he brings with him.

"No scratches?" Suguru asks.

"No, obviously, she loves me more than you." Satoru cheeks.

"Fuck you, haha."

Satoru makes his voice lower and leans to Suguru, "(Did she figure out what I wrote yet?)"

"Y/n did you figure out what he wrote?" Suguru asks.

"I'm trying so hard. What does this part mean...?"

Suguru shakes his head and puts his hands up. "Like I said, I'm not Mr Translator in the mornings."

"But you've had your coffee! Please, just this part..." you beg, and he can't deny that sweet begging. He easily folds for it, just like when Satoru begs for anything.

"Okay, where — this? Uh... Satoru your handwriting isn't usually this neat, is it...? That part means... 'voice'."

"Oh... ohhh!" you suddenly realize, and then the boys swoon over you when you pronounce the characters out loud to yourself.

"Uh... I think I know what it means..." you feel your cheeks warm up from the crown to your jawline.

あなたのこえがすき。 a-na-ta-no-ko-e-ga-su-ki.

"I like your voice, too." you respond to Satoru, and he half-gets it and gives you a thumbs up.

"Thanks."

You look at each other and then promptly look away with shy smiles.

"You two are cute." Suguru comments.

"Ahah... ahah shut up... hey, the sky has cleared up." you point out.

"Ooh... it cleared up 'cuz Satoru walked back into the room."

You awe at what he said.

"?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, Translator — (stop talking about me behind my back!)"

Suguru chuckles, "I wasn't! I was just — never mind. Let's get ready to head out."

And so you head into Satoru's bedroom to get ready, and Suguru heads into his bedroom, and Satoru himself goes into the cramped bathroom. Poor boy. He's really too tall for that archway, he bumped his head again.

彼女に花を買ってあげるべきでしょうか？それともちょっと多すぎますか？ Should I buy her flowers? Or is it a bit too much?

（なんてことだ）、なぜこのシャツには穴が開いているのでしょう？ (Oh my god), why does this shirt have holes?

The door slides open, he steps out of the bathroom half-dressed, and intends to quickly slip into Suguru's bedroom to borrow a shirt instead of awkwardly knocking on his bedroom door and disturbing you.

But oh, you know what? The cheesiest possible thing happens instead. The universe likes making Satoru's life a little more fun in odd times. So the two of you encounter each other in the hallway; you're fully clothed and he's got just pants and socks on.

He stutters once, swallows awkwardly, and even more awkwardly places his hand on your head as if to say sorry for this inconvenience.

But you laugh in response to the funny situation.

ああ、またあの美しい笑い声。 Ah, that beautiful laugh again.

"Sorry." he mutters, and disappears to go get a shirt from Suguru.

"It's okay." you reply.

The image of your pretty smile is burned in his head.

You can hear him telling Suguru something in the other room, and then you hear Suguru's muffled laugh as a response.

"(Don't laugh! I'm embarrassed! She's seen me shirtless now! No one's seen me shirtless except you!)"

"(You're such a virgin.)"

"(Say that again, I dare you.)"

"(Sorry, I don't understand you. I don't speak virgin, only English and Japanese.)"

You're wondering why Satoru sounds so embarrassed and annoyed, and then he groans down the hallway. It feels like you're their roommate, it's funny.

"Hi."

The two of you encounter each other in the hall again. This time he has a shirt, yes. And this time Suguru is there, too, and he's holding back an amused smile. He fluffs Satoru's hair as a way of embarrassing him more.

So Satoru leaves, and he leaves in such a way that it's super comedic, making you and Suguru laugh. Ooh, what a laugh that boy has; his Addam's apple shifts up and down deliciously.

"Ah... Suguru? I need help with the washing machine..."

"Yes...?"

"...this kid on the plane who sat next to me, he spilled strawberry juice all over my shirt and now it's sticky."

"But at least it smells like strawberries, right?" he jokes. "You can put it in the washing machine, I'll be doing the laundry in a second anyways..." there is a small moment of eye contact shared, then Suguru looks down, and frowns at something he sees, "(SATORU YOU LEFT YOUR SOCK ON THE FLOOR AGAIN!)"

"(Haha, sorry.)" you hear Satoru half-heartedly apologize from the other room.

So Suguru picks up the sock like an annoyed mother and goes to lecture Satoru.

"(You're embarrassing me in front of our guest. For the love of god, don't leave your goofy ass socks on the floor. What if she slips on them?)"

"(You're such a mother, Suguru.)"

You're calmly and casually going to put your juice-stained shirt in the washing machine like Suguru said, but then...

(the boys are talking and there's just this hilariously dramatic scream from the laundry room)

"DID THE CAT SCRATCH YOU?"

"(Did the cat scratch her?)"

"Ow, y-yeah!" you whine.

Suguru's the first one at the crime scene, and he picks up the cat and proceeds to lecture the cat as if it understands Japanese. It licks its lips and nubby nose and has an evil stare. You giggle.

"I'm so sorry... come, uh — (Suguru, we still have Hello Kitty adhesives somewhere, right?)" Satoru instinctually holds your hand that got scratched.

And he holds it so tenderly and caringly that it makes your whole chest quake for him.

彼女の手の傷はとても小さなものですが、それでも私は心臓がチクチクするのを感じました。 Although the wound on her hand was very small, I still felt my heart tingle.

He leads you to his bedroom, picking up some adhesives and antiseptic on the way, and sits with you on the unmade beds. You watch his fingers nimbly peeling the plastic off the adhesive, admiring how swiftly and perfectly he does even the littlest things. He has such a great attention to detail, it makes you self-conscious; is he thinking of you with the same attention to detail as everything else? Yes... he is.

He dabs some antiseptic on your small scratch, and then gently wraps and pats the Hello Kitty adhesive around it. You're pretty sure he's the one who bought them. Oh, if only you could ask him, but where even is your phone? Lost in a void somewhere, probably.

"Thank you, Satoru."

His eyes light up. His heart thumps. Why did those small, simple words have such a great effect on him?

"Mhm." he hums in acknowledgement. "You're welcome."

あなたの傷がもっと良くなるようにキスしたいです。 I want to kiss your wounds to make them better.

A second after thinking this and looking at your hand, he brings it to his lips and presses a very delicate kiss to the edge of your wrist, where the small cut spanned up to the base of your palm. Can you even call it a kiss? It's more like his lips graze your skin, hovering timidly.

And for some reason... the atmosphere becomes very intimate. Is it because of the place where he kissed you? The inner wrist has never occurred to you to be an intimate spot, and yet you're feeling as if he just kissed you on the lips.

You hear him audibly swallow, like he's conscious of this, too. The both of you become very aware of the tension in the atmosphere.

And then he looks apologetic, as if he overstepped a boundary. So you mutter a small, whispery "thanks..." which lifts his heart up into his throat and reassures him that you don't mind the intimacy.

"Mmm..." he blinks at you, pursing his lips.

His eyes linger on your lips for a moment, and it feels like he's about to... well you know his body just wants to... he sort of...

"Hey, how's the wounded patient?" Suguru interrupts, and you and Satoru spring apart like you're elastic bands that just got released after being stretched.

"Ahah, I'm okay. It's not a bad scratch." you lift your hand, "I'll cherish this Hello Kitty Bandaid forever, thank you."

"Yeah, Satoru bought 'em so you can thank him."

"I knewww he bought them, haha! So expected... cutiepie." you admire Satoru, and he's pretty sure that the last thing you said is some cute nickname, so he smirks.

"Okay, well... anyways, let's head out before the sun rises too high and it gets too hot to walk."

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

5K notes · View notes

missfrustration · 1 month ago

Text

to teach a captain - part 2 (luffy x reader 18+ fanfic)

summary: If the “D” in his middle name didn't stand for dick, you don’t know what would.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

rating: 18+ explicit, minors do not interact!

tags: pwp, nsfw, smut, sexual content, masturbation, first times, self discovery, cluelessness, luffy is a curious guy, sub!luffy, dirty talk, "good boy," some praising, reader is a member of the crew, post-time skip, second-hand embarrassment, you will cringe, no use of y/n

A/n: the real spice starts now. I got carried away and wrote like 6k words for this one. Luffy, ur my goat forever. on ao3 here!

words: 6.1k

“Talk to me? About what? I find it hard to believe you would end your time out there just to talk to me.”

Without a beat, Luffy tilts his head. “You didn’t answer my question earlier, and I wanted to know why,” he says, crossing his arms.

“What?” But you didn't need to ask what he meant—you knew exactly what he was talking about—but that didn’t stop your entire body from freezing.

“You had your clothes off, making noise, and had that thing. At first, I thought you were in pain, but then when I came in, you seemed… good. I have no idea what happened.”

You swallow thickly, only looking at the deep brown of Luffy’s eyes. You feel a heavy blush form on your face as you struggle to find any words.

“I’m sorry, Luffy, but I don’t think we should talk about it,” You say. “I don’t think it’s appropriate.”

“What? That’s not fair.” Luffy whines.

“What’s not fair?”

“You were having a good time, and I want to know why. The way you talked… you looked like you were having fun.“

Your body tenses into a rigor mortis level of shock.

“You want to know what you saw?”

He nods adamantly.

“Luffy, how long were you watching?”

He shrugged it off like it was no big deal. “A while.”

You blink. Luffy definitely saw everything then. The feeling of him seeing your bare form pleasuring yourself with no guilt is enough to make your face light on fire. You cuss at yourself for not closing the door like you should’ve.

“How old are you again, Luffy?”

“Uh… 19?”

“That‘s what I thought,” You mumble, sighing so hard you groan. “If you don’t know, I can’t imagine you know other things— anything about…” a pause, “ do you know where babies come from?”

Luffy scratches his chin.

“Isn’t it a giant bird? I think Grandpa told me that once.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’d thought you would say. Okay, we both need to sit down for this one.”

You rustle some stacks of clothing off your bed onto Nami’s bed to the right of you before you sit on the edge of the sheets. Luffy plopped onto the edge beside you, kicking his feet against the bed frame.

“If this were anyone else on the Sunny, I wouldn’t need to think twice about entertaining this,” but of course, it’s Luffy. You sigh. “So, we can talk about it, but no relaying ANYTHING about this to the crew, got it? This conversation cannot get to them.”

Another shrug. “Sure, that’s fine.”

You sigh and rub your face, watching Luffy through your fingers for a moment before sliding them down and crossing your arms.

“You can ask away then.”

Luffy perks up and grins. His mind was off to the races.

“What was that noise you were making?”

How you painfully grimace at the first question tells you how much you’ll enjoy this conversation.

“Well, that’s what happens when you, uh, when people do what I was doing?” Your voice turns into a question by accident. If this was anyone else but Luffy, you would’ve tapped out here, but you know Luffy would never let you hear the end of it.

Luffy hums, reflecting on your answer.

“What were you doing?”

Yep, we are going there.

“Uh, I was making myself… feel good. It’s called masturbating, or…pleasuring oneself.” You cringe at the informative tone in your voice as you mull it over. “Like you said.”

“What were you using?”

“Using? What do you mean—” Before Luffy answers your question, you realize he meant your dildo. “Oh, it was… a tool.”

“A tool? Like, to help fight?”

“No, it’s to help me feel good. It’s called a toy.”

Luffy looks around the room.

”Do other people need that?”

“For what?”

He briefly thinks about the question, scratching his head like the words are right there.

“If they want to feel like that too.”

“Hardly,” you snort. “Guys never have it that rough; usually, hands work fine. Women may. It just depends on whether they need some extra help.”

As far as you know, you recall Nami telling the girls she gets her pleasure from men on different islands and usually her hands if we’re stuck on the sea for a while. Robin doesn’t mention her individual sex life, but you’d assume Franky takes care of her whenever she needs a pick-me-up.

”Then why do you need a toy?” Luffy asks.

”Man, Luffy…” You mumble, arms supporting you as you fall back on your bed. “This is a lot for me.”

When you look at him, his pout says it all. You pinch the bridge of your nose with the strength that could knock you out of this nightmare, yet disappointed that you’re still here.

“Okay, okay, fine. Sometimes, during these moments, it’s harder for me to reach the same… conclusion than it is for others, so I need the assistance of a toy to help me. I don’t know much about the others–that’s not really something people talk about to each other.”

Luffy perked up at your last sentence.

“Huh? The others do it, too?”

“Well, maybe. That’s not for me to know.” You say. You try to shrug it off–thinking about it too much will make you want to knock on every door you need to open on the Sunny.

“Why can’t the crew just help you next time?” Luffy asks.

Suddenly, the bed no longer offers support as you sit straight up. You didn’t need to say anything; Luffy saw your concern screaming before you could open your mouth.

“We’re nakama! I would do anything for you guys. The others feel the same.” He says with a smile. Luffy’s words make it seem like the easiest answer, practically beaming at a newfound resolve. It just makes you sink into the mattress more.

“That’s not exactly… something that requires you guys. People don’t usually help each other with this…” You stop before you explain only people who are very close can, but you know Luffy wouldn’t know how close that is unless you explain it.

“Does that mean you won’t tell me how to do it?”

“Tell you?” You ask. Luffy nods, and you only widen your eyes more. “Wait, you want me to tell you how to masturba-“ you clear your throat before finishing, “tell you how ?”

“You said it felt good, right? I wanna know how, then!”

Your captain is a nice guy, giving you a clean, optimistic smile after his words. To him, this is practically like learning a new combat skill–the way he fights for his nakama means he always wants to learn how to get stronger. You guess this is just another skill for him. To you, this obviously crosses intimate boundaries.

You sigh, “You wanna know that bad, huh?”

Luffy nods.

You gaze at Luffy, wondering how you should go about this. You know he’s a loose canon when it comes to anything in the realm of keeping things private. He couldn’t keep Mr. 0 a secret even when their lives depended on it! On top of that, Luffy is the type of guy to pester you about something he’s curious about until he finds out or flatlines. If you tell him no, he could possibly keep asking until everyone on the ship hears about it. Your mouth opens to deny him, but it’s lost on your tongue.

If explaining to him how to please himself is all it is, maybe you can rush him through the steps and have him out the door shortly after. After all, he is seriously uneducated, which may help him in the long run. For what exactly, only God knows. You’re just a girl.

“If it means you keep this all a secret.” You relent, “Promise? Like, really promise. I know you’re horrible at keeping them, but I need you to just this once.”

It makes Luffy perk up, crisscrossing his legs and resting his hands on his ankles. “Promise!” He says with a toothy grin. He’s ready to listen.

“Okay, you know your…penis-“ another cringe, “between your legs?”” You ask, gesturing to his crotch. You have to find a baseline about what he even knows in the first place.

“What, the family jewels?”

Wow, off to a great start.

“… yeah. that’s what a man has with their penis—it’s your version of genitalia—whereas women…. it’s a long story… but I'm sure you saw the difference.”

He nods again, making you groan. You realize he really did see all of your pussy this morning, not to mention in excruciating pleasure. Judging by his face, he doesn’t seem confused as to what you mean when referring to his junk. That at least helps the awkwardness of this.

“Alright, y’know how sometimes you wake up and you’re hard?”

“What do you mean hard?” Luffy blinks.

“Hard means when your dick, or penis, y’know, is hard. When you wake up like that, it’s called ‘morning wood.’” You cringe at yourself again, but less severe.

“Oooohhh, yeah, you mean when it’s hard to pee!” Luffy says.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I’m talking ab–”

“You mean like this!” Luffy smiles, reaching for his pants. He unbuttons his shorts and pulls the hem of his boxers down.

“W-what the hell are you doing?” You squeak, scrambling around.

By the time you think to turn away, you see Luffy’s hand pop out from his shorts, followed by…

“See?”

His dick is in his hands semi-hard. It’s flush against his fingers, almost the exact same color as his skin, except for a tinge of pink that lightens the more you travel towards the tip. Your eyes bulge out.

“Woah, you’re already hard… that’s surprising.”

“Yeah, it's like this a lot.”

For some reason, his words send a strange spark in you. Of course he has working bodily functions–that makes a lot of sense–but you suppose it surprised you. At first, it seemed like Luffy was completely oblivious, his body included.

“You're very red,” He says, his other hand starts waving in your face, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, yeah I’m fine,” You say with a nervous laughter. “But you don’t just whip it out like that, man.”

“Oh, sorry, I figured I could since you’re teaching me.”

You look down at his dick still in his hand, except this time, it’s grown to what you guess is his full length. Compared to others you’ve seen in the past, his length is a little smaller. You can’t tell completely without staring it, and you don’t feel like gawking would be that nice.

“It’s fine. We can work on courtesy later, but it’s super important you know about consent. Just know you’re allowed to stop whenever you’re uncomfortable with this, or by me, alright? When you talk about—or do —topics like this, it’s important to know this if you’re overwhelmed or if you don’t like what’s happening, understand? That’s called consent. Are you okay to keep going?”

“Yeah,” He smiles, “so, what do I do now?”

You shift a little, trying to scan the room for literally any answer that would get you out of this situation without your face feeling on fire—at the very least without talking about his penis again—but you cannot find a single reality. There is nothing but the goddamn wall of the girl’s dorm looking back at you.

You hope your face isn’t red anymore, or else you’ll think you’ll die from high blood pressure.

“Okay, go ahead and put your hand on it like this.” You do a hand demonstration, lightly grasping the tips of your fingers together to form a lazy ‘O’ and gesturing for him to do the same. Luffy grips the middle of his shaft on the second attempt after floating his hand around the head.

“Then you’ll want to pump into it a few times.” You pump your hand ring into the air, one that he followed suit around his dick.

His movement is stagnant and uncoordinated, imitating your motions with a waver. His hand shakes in all different directions, making his dick shift like a goddamn joystick. But it’s enough to start stimulating himself.

Slowly, his shaft begins to grow a little more.

And more. And more. And…

…Holy shit.

“Like this?” Luffy asks.

“Y-yeah, Luffy, it’s working,” you say, slack-jawed.

If the “D” in his middle name didn't stand for “dick,” you don’t know what would.

His hand gripped around the base of his shaft is now a fraction of the entire length, whereas previously, it covered everything but the head. Maybe his dick was still flaccid when he took it out. If that’s the case, bro was packing a fucking monster this whole time??

And you realize how much you’ve been staring.

“What now?” Luffy’s voice puts you back to reality.

“Well, there's one more thing that helps.” You get up slowly, your legs trembling a bit. You shake it off and walk off to the side to reach into the confines of your drawer again. What you pull out after rustling through the clothes is the small bottle of lube, almost empty from this morning’s events. You shake the bottle back and forth before popping the top open and reaching for Luffy’s hand. Although he looks at it quizzically, he obliges to give you an outstretched palm when you reach for it. You squirt a quarter-sized amount, which slowly spreads around the surface.

You motion for him to close and open his hand, making him spread the lube to the rest of his palm and fingers. He grimaces at the sight, watching the sticky substance break apart into small strings before separating, but he still looks back at you for more directions.

“Good, okay, go ahead and do what you did earlier.”

He nods, eyes now filled with determination for a newfound purpose. With one hand toying with the fabric on his clothed thigh, the other hand encircles his girth again, now barely touching fingertips as he starts to move up and down the shaft. It doesn’t take long for the lube to spread across his length, leaving small beads that move everytime he glides over them.

“This is feels different. This feels,” He trails off, but you can tell by the fluidity in his arm that the stimulation feels better…

You’re really gawking now. You rip your eyes away and stand up from the bed.

“Well, you keep doing that until, you know… alright, I have to leave, I hope you—”

Luffy whines your name. You feel a hand grab your wrist gently, immediately removing his grasp when you turn around.

“Wait.” Luffy's eyes set on where he touched you, then back to your eyes.

“What is it?” You ask. You look down to see his dick still in his hand, stroking up and down. You swear there’s a pink tinge dusted on the apples of his cheeks.

“I need to know if I’m doing it right!”

“Yeah, Luffy, but God, you want me to watch you while you do it?” You ask.

“Is that such a big deal?” Luffy gives you puppy dog-like eyes, almost offended that you don’t want to look at him. “I thought you said you were gonna help me.” Luffy says sheepishly, lowering his eyebrows.

Obviously, it is a big deal, but he’s so innocent for his own damn good that you can’t even argue with him at this point. He really doesn’t want you to leave, but you’ve wanted to keep his privacy as a top priority. Regardless, you know your say on things won’t get you anywhere, now. You swallow a lump down your throat.

“I guess it’s not.” You sit back next to him.

His feet sit firm on the plush pink carpet, he continues.

“So?” You hear his breath hitch, seeing his lips purse a little. His voice is quiet now. “Am I… doing it right?”

“Yes, you are.” You say. “If you need to, you can also control the pressure by squeezing or loosening your grip, slowing down or speeding up your hand, too.” You do some more motions with your hand, pumping it in the air with different speeds. He nods before focusing on his hand.

He changes his pace, you see his hand lose tension around his member and go slow for a few pumps as he tests the feeling. You watch your captain languidly pump his length back and forth, before he hums his disapproval. You see his hand start to speed up now. Small veins from his hand to his arms start to peak out from the firmness of his grip.

Luffy’s breath hitches again, this time at the change of pace, brows now furrowed a little.

“Okay, how long do I go for?”

“As long as you want to, but usually, there is a good stopping point. You’re trying to cum–uh, climax, which is where it feels the best, but you’ll know when that is when your penis… well you’ll see,” you shift. You hope it’s not too long. Luffy is a guy–a beginner–, so you’ll assume he won’t last long for his first time.

You realize the words sound crude coming out of your mouth, but if you could figure it out by yourself years ago, Luffy can too with a rudimentary explanation. The whole time, Luffy focuses on your words in agog, fully digesting each part. He goes right back to pumping himself with a firm nod.

“That means I’m doing it right?” He asks.

“Yes, Luffy, youre doing it right.”

“Okay.”

You’re limited in what you should say at this point. His vest is unbuttoned, revealing a chest that heaves after each firm thrust of his arm. He’s starting to throw his head back slovenly, the lids of his eyes lowering until they shut tight together. You don’t think you can look at his face anymore. At least without having a deep pool collect in your stomach. This is purely for Luffy and his educational purposes, after all. It’s stupid of you to feel anything more than that.

Your eyes nail to the wall, the very same place you chucked the bottle of lube at when Luffy first found you, trying to stifle the urge to stare. It’s futile, however, all you can hear is the small shallow huffs from the side of you. Luffy notices your sudden disassociation, however.

“You can keep looking.” He says quietly.

“R-right.”

You look down at his hand, which moved from the shorts on his thigh to the mess of the sheets between you two. There are the veins on his skin you only see when he’s fighting, popping out from his forearms to the back of his hand.

One particular pump makes him whimper loudly, whipping his head back more and parting his lips. Then another, one that makes the whiny groan in his throat linger in the air, until his legs dart wider apart, clacking his knee against yours. The quick force of it makes you jump in your skin, letting out a squeak that snaps his head forward. His brown eyes search for you, darting between you irises with low lids.

Something strange has been setting you off.

With you specifically. You squirm in your place on the bed, only a few inches from your captain jacking himself off, feeling his pleasure so well, so vocally , and now looking at you with the eyes he has after being starved and seeing a feast. Dark, enticing, needy hues, but this time, so aroused . The musk from his body is so—

“Hey,” Luffy calls out your name again. His voice has a waver in it now, a sound not lost on you, and one that is dripping more with the feeling of desire, of lust , that you certainly detect. The entire time you’ve known Luffy, you’ve never heard his voice have such a neediness in it. You never would’ve guessed it was possible. Your thighs shift together subconsciously, creating some space between your once-grazing legs.

“Am I doing it good?” He whines again. Its so breathless, so lovely. That voice so coaxed with fervor. Each word lingers a little bit more in the air the more he speaks, making your face hot and body hotter.

“Yes. Yes Luffy, you are.” You whisper. “Do you feel good?” A small sound comes out of Luffy’s mouth after your words come out. It’s almost like a hiccup, one that erupt throughout his body as his hips jut forward.

“I, think so,” He says, he looks all over your body, “Yeah, I do feel good.”

Your breath hitches. There’s a pause that feels like hours have replaced seconds.

“I feel good when you say that,” Luffy whines. “I think.”

Your chest swells as you look into his eyes. You see they’re staring right back at your face, looking at each individual feature like it’s the first time he’s seen you. Like, really seeing you.

“What do you mean, Luffy?”

“When you tell me I'm doing a good job. Hahh ,” Luffy moans. You see his eyes dart to your lips which you didn’t realize until now that your biting between your teeth. “Am I still doing it?”

“Yes, Luffy, so, so good.”

Is it wrong for you to enjoy seeing this? His hand palms the sheets more, head whipped back again from firm, languid pumps to his dick, and he’s whining from it now. He sounds so desperate for release, so welcoming for every tinge of pleasure he receives from himself that builds up more towards an awaited ecstasy.

His head lazily tilts towards you, his eyes open and on you, drinking up the very essence of you.

It almost feels like you’re naked.

“Please...” He mewls out, which commands your attention from whatever haze it’s in.

“‘Please’ what, Luffy?” Your voice is a thin veil of what it was prior, with an airy breath that crashes with the impermeable heat radiating from his body.

“I don’t- mmph!-“ Another delectable whine escapes his lips. He continues, “I don’t know, just–ahh, please – “

The hand previously entangled in the sheets finds purchase on your shoulder, his needy fist grasping the strap of your tank top. The abrupt move causes your stance to falter due to his inadvertently tugging you down closer. Your eyes are level now, with your noses just a hair from touching. Your hands land on his thighs, and Luffy’s pace falters while his breath hitches at your touch.

Luffy stares at you, and your senses are overwhelmed; His brown eyes seem to swallow your closest features, the hot breaths and hiccups that escape his mouth ghost upon your lips, and the downright filthy sounds his lubed hand makes against his cock have you reeling. He never takes his eyes off of you, even as his expression shifts to desperation and his whines evolve into needy whimpers.

“Tell me… mngh that I’m doing good, I’m still doing good, yeah?” You notice his fingers flex in the grasp he has on you. For a brief moment, you wonder how it would feel to have even one of those thick fingers inside of you.

“You’re doing…so good. You’re so good at touching yourself, Luffy… good boy .” The rational part of your mind is shocked at the words coming out of your mouth, but the way Luffy’s leg twitches and breath wavers at the sound of praise from your lips silences any rationality you may be harboring.

Almost under his breath, he murmurs out a reply whilst his gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips; “Yeah, I’m..” he begins, “...your good–“

Before you can even muster a reply, He whimpers in a voice you never heard, your name wavering on his tongue, instantly stealing your attention and giving you a bellowing heartbeat.

“I feel something.” He says, letting his words faded out with a breathless huff. “Something new , hahh, I don’t…”

“Yeah, I–I know that.”

“What do I… do I do?” His lids are low when he looks at you, pleading for an answer in the colors of your eyes. Your chest feels tight from his small voice, encompassed by a lit flame inside that compels you to speak.

“If you want, please keep going.” You breathe, a horribly devious idea coming to your head. It’s a want to push him further to the edge. “You’re doing so good, Luffy.”

“ Mmmh. ”

You don’t know what’s worse: In the beginning, when Luffy revealed to you and only you his desire when watching you touch yourself, or hear his lustful whines and moans that only elevate because of you. Your voice being the thing your strong captain, with a bounty of countless berries, needs right now. His pleas and wants make you want to see the end of this.

Luffy pants more now, loosened hair clinging to his forehead, tongue peaking out to moisten his lips as his eyes start to squeeze shut. His pace is faster now as he groans in delight, quickly learning a pace and intensity that he needs . It’s an instinct of his he never knew, a yearning programmed in his brain that compels him to stroke his length faster, it’s a yearning you share as you watch thick beads of precum drip out.

It was extremely enticing. His plush lips once encased in smiles now slackjaws in stuttering breaths. His chest is heaving in a way you’ve never seen in his fights—whereas his chest hollows out in deep, robust pillars of breath during a battle, it’s now unsure, uncertain, but so daring to steal another fading breath.

Watching your captain build this unsteady breathing tempo, the way his arm juts around as his eyes languidly blink, and most of all, the way his hand grips and pumps onto himself. You can see from his jutting hips and louder huffs that he’s close, and you can practically see his way to climax. But you know something is very off.

As his arm starts to shake a little more each time, just as Luffy mewls his loudest, starting to hitch his breath, starting to garble unintelligible things, closer and closer to a sweet release. Suddenly, he releases the grip from your shoulder, fingers unclench as it wavers, flinching up and down in the air. In an instant, he grabs onto your plush thigh with such strength you do more than flinch. You moan loud. Luffy doesn’t notice your voice, though; he’s too preoccupied with the fireworks that are going off in his head.

That’s when you register what’s wrong.

You hear knocks on the deck above you. It’s footsteps of people.

It’s the crew.

Your uneven breathing once aroused and whining from Luffy is now panicked in fear. You look to him; he’s so close now you can see his lids flutter.

There’s no way they won't hear him. You huff against him, seeing him teeter, hand gripping on you, moving closer and closer to your crotch. You decide to do something you didn’t think twice about until you moved in towards Luffy.

“ I, I’m …— mmf! ” Luffy pants, but is swiftly cut off by you. Your lips bury themselves against his, so rugged and rough that Luffy’s eyes widen against it. Your hand latches on to the side of his head, intertwining the fingers with his black hair as you push into him. You feel his whole body jolt, going so stiff except for his rapidly moving arm until it suddenly stops.

Luffy moans against your lips, pushing against you so hard you feel the vibration of his vocal chords. His lids lower, eyes unfocused as he starts to helplessly whimper into your mouth.

You feel small, warm ropes of liquid sputter onto your arm, your shirt, reaching all the way to his neck as he whines again and again. All tries to moan his orgasm are stiffle by your mouth against his, the sounds muffling enough that you know they won’t hear.

You move you lips away, seeing a small string of saliva before it quickly breaks, and you realize how fast you need to act before the crew comes.

When his moans are replaced with breathy huffs, and his hands lay comatose at his sides. You spring into action. Your shirt is already covered in ropes of cum, so it’s the first thing you decide to change. You rip off your shirt, revealing your chest to Luffy right next to you. You cover your hand with the fabric and wipe down the cum on your arm in one fluid motion. You rub the stain off of your neck. Luffy’s body follows suit. A frantic apology leaves your lips as you clean his chest, arm, and hand with your shirt. You toss it, immediately grabbing for a clean shirt from the neglected pile of laundry. Once its shimmied on, you whip to Luffy, another apology as you lift the hem of his boxers, trapping his half-hard member inside before hiking his boxers and shorts back up, buttoning and zipping up the fly with speed that Luffy doesn’t say anything.

In Luffy’s daze, you rush him out of the girls’ room to the hallway. You straighten his back out, make sure all of his clothes are straight on him, and try to act as normal as possible. Normal like you didn’t just teach your captain how to jack off. Or kiss him.

Almost on cue, some of the crew appear into the hall. Smiling when they see you and Luffy. All except Ussop, who immediately clamors to Luffy as soon as he registers him.

“You!” Ussop points to him, stomping over to Luffy with a vengeance. “Where the hell were you? I was looking for you everywhere, man!”

Luffy just looks at him, partially confused, partially still in a post-nut delirium.

Ussop is hammering into him something, you honestly aren’t paying attention, as you see the other crewmates walk down. The girls come next, both carrying comically large numbers of shopping bags. Sanji is following them, practically hovering behind them as he asks them about their time. You see a patch of moss-colored hair and some bones too, they wave their salutations before heading to different areas of the ship.

You smile and wave back at everyone, putting on a curt smile.

“So? That doesn’t give you an excuse to ot say anything before you leave. Jeez, what am I gonna do with you.”

Luffy manages to shrug, the larger half of his indifference showing towards Ussop, but you are at least relieved to see he’s starting to use some braincells. Ussop starts to sniff in the air when he catches a whiff of something. He steps towards Luffy.

“Ew, Luffy, you reek like…” Ussop stops, pauses for a second to look at you. You’re only a few feet away from them, but with his puzzled glance it feels like your seeing things through a wide lens. His attention immediately jumps back to Luffy when he breathes in, wrinkling his nose a little as Luffy tries to step back. Ussop doesn’t let him, gripping the front of his shirt. “Dude, you need to take a bath anyway. It’s been way too long.”

“What? No way? I hate that tub, I get all weak and stuff!” Luffy groans. For his last attempt, he pries each finger off of his vest, but Ussop turns to him and jerks both of his hands around the nape of his collar.

“You’re going now!” Ussop shouts, walking away and hauling Luffy with him.

“Nooo. Help me! AHHHH!” Luffy screams, kicking his legs against the floorboards as his hands scramble at his collar. With no luck, Ussop drags him down the hall with immense irritation. It’s honestly surprising how well Ussop can manhandle the captain. They disappears around the corner of the hallway, but not without Ussop giving you a glance and following. The eye he gives you sends a chill down your spine. Does he know what happened?

Oh God.

You attention is immediately stolen as a mop of blonde hair whisks you around to face his figure. The cook takes your hands in his so gently.

“Ah, mademoiselle, I hope you’re doing alright.” Sanji kisses your hand. “Was it alright being on the ship by yourself?”

“Yeah! Um, it was, uh… things were okay, I guess.” You spit out. In your mind, you curse yourself for sounding so obviously not okay, but it doesn’t seem like Sanji notices.

“Ahh, if only I hadn’t promised Luffy to take him to that restaurant, I would’ve spent it with you.” He cooes. “That idiot captain barely stayed with us before he disappeared to wherever God knows. I wasted my time instead of pampering a delicate lady.”

So he really did sneak away. was it really all because of you?

“Oh, I see, maybe next time.” You plaster on a not-so-convincing smile, but it was just enough for Sanji, as he let go off you and instantly ran towards Nami, who was walking towards you too.

It seems that Sanji had flailed his arms wide open to try and embrace Nami before he was promptly shut down by Nami’s right hook. He falls head first on the floor.

“Hey girl!” Nami says, entirely ignoring Sanji’s limp body as she steps over him, as ruthless as ever. “I got you some things.” She smiles, rustling through her loads of bags in hand.

A humongous gift bag with pretty tissue paper poking out of the edges is put in your hands, you look at her quizzically.

“Thanks, Nami! But what’s with the fancy bag?” You ask. When you take it, your arm almost gives out from the sheer weight of the contents. What the hell is in here? You think.

“Just a little something I think you should have,” she wries. Nami has one of those grins on; the one where you know she’s up to mischief. “Tell me how you like them,” She says before scampering off, almost stepping on Sanji’s twitching body in the process.

Robin comes up behind you and giggles. “She said you need a wardrobe change soon when we start shopping. I couldn’t stop her.” She smiles, now hold up a small bag of her own from a slew of other ones she had. “Here, take this.”

“Aw thanks!”

“No problem, it’s just what you asked for, by the way.” She winks, before also walking around you.

You hear the hinges creak behind you, meaning she’s opening the door to the girls’ dorm. Robin’s footsteps stop, making your heart drop to the goddamn floor.

“You seemed to be busy in here.”

You turn around, remembering the state you left the room in. The girls’ clothes that were once neatly stacked on your bed are either knocked over, greatly disheveled or both. Robin looks back at you with minor confusion.

“Oh!” Your voice cracks as you shimmy past her figure in the doorway, rushing back to the bedside. “About that. The ship was… rocky earlier.”

“At dock?” She asks with her usual soft smile, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, um. I’ll fix it up, sorry for the mess.” You look down at the edge of the sheets, now noticing the small beads of bodily fluids from earlier. You quickly fold over the wrinkles formed on the sheet to cover it up. Robin’s on the other side of the room at this point, setting down the bags and sorting through them.

“I don’t mind it at all. Just make sure Nami doesn’t see her clothes on the floor. I don’t think I can help you there.” Robin giggles.

You look between you and Nami’s bed, seeing a pile of her baby tees toppled off the bed and lay unfolded on the floor. You yank it back onto the bed immediately.

“Right.” You say. Jesus, how much sweat is on your face at this point. From how wildly embarrassed you’ve reacted, she must think something is up.

Thankfully, Robin seems to have not noticed, or at least dropped the subject. She’s now in the corner of the room. Taking the things out her and Nami’s bags and hanging them up on the closet while she hums a soft tune.

“Cute shirt, too.” Robin softly says.

In horror, you look down, realizing the shirt you threw on was Robin’s old Galley-La shirt.

“Thanks.” You stammer.

Robin is almost a decade older than you. She’s in a relationship, and you hoping to God she doesn’t realize what you’ve been up to. Ussop’s questioning glance towards you tells you they both noticed something. Your heartbeat was frantic now.

You excuse yourself as you slip yourself out of the girls’ room, frantically scurrying to the deck. You need some fresh air. Now.

At the deck's side railing, your feet brush on top of the soft bed of grass of the Sunny. You watch the waves brush up against the hull, gently lapping up against the wood before dispersing into the air. Tashini's shoreline is only a few yards away, greeting each ebb and flow of seawater.

You take a deep breath of the night air, releasing it with a languid sigh. Your hands have stopped shaking at least, but a feeling of morose still creeps into the back of your mind. Your heart beats at a regular tempo but with an echo that confuses you. You take a deep breath again.

You should probably change out of Robin's shirt now.

#x reader #fanfic #fem reader #reader insert #ao3 fanfic #my fanfic #one piece #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy #one piece luffy #straw hat luffy #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #monkey d. luffy x you #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy smut #smut

532 notes · View notes

birdshummingthebeat · 1 year ago

Text

2023.12.23 release - "The Garden" SETO CHORD MUSIC Compilation vol.1

四国発 SETO CHORD MUSICさんのコンピレーションアルバム “The Garden"にdelightという曲で参加させていただきました。

lofi、アンビエント、Jazz hopなどジャンル横断でオルタナティブかつインディペンデントな音が出揃った素敵な一枚。今年はSETO CHORD MUSICさんのおかげで色々と魅力的な出会い、繋がりが生まれた年でした。

最近のアンビエントな空気感をベースとしつつ00年代のエレクトロニカ・ポストロックの香りを添えたオルタナティブな１曲。是非^^

▶️ Spotify

▶️ AppleMusic

▶️ bandcamp

#ambient #ambient music #electronica #soundscape #SETO CHORD MUSIC #lofi hiphop #acoustic #birds humming the beat

3 notes · View notes

munsster · 5 months ago

Text

hell-bent

A/N: basically… give me beefy bucky or give me death (gif creds: @vader-anakin)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: All you want is attention from your boyfriend. Though, during a life/death mission may not be the best time to crave it. 2.6k words

Warnings: smut, man handling, dirty talk, degrading, knife play/kink, blood play!!!!!, uh very mild exhibitionism, pet names (babydoll, doll, princess, minx, baby)

"Babydoll, toss my knife over." A crouching Bucky fiddles with the steel door's padlock before catching your ankle in his left palm, wrapping cooly into your exposed skin.

"Can I have a kiss first?" you coo and bat your lashes to get his blood pumping, the susurration booming in his ears and rushing between his legs.

He barks out a laugh, face scrunched as he falls back onto his tailbone, abandoning the Fort Knox knockoff before you kick your calf from his grip and shuffle away. His breath finally catches in his windpipe when you scoff, tugging his knife from your belt. Bird-like in your grace, you flit away with a tune tumbling from your lips in a hum. Footsteps thud hard and fast until his hands clasp your abdomen. With the tip of his nose pressed to your ear, his hips shoved up against your back, and in a mumble:

"Listen, the second we're done with this, I'll fuck you until you can't walk, but right now, I need the goddamn knife." His mouth trails to the crook of your jaw as his fingers curl into your taut leather neckline. A hot puff of air fans over your skin when you spin in his arms, spine sinuous and molding into his grasp. Then the edge of his own knife meets his bust, poking at the center of his vest as he frowns.

"And I need a kiss," you say, very matter-of-fact in your own silver-tongued way. The tip of the blade glides up and over his adam's apple until he's forced to tilt his head back, stubbly jaw exposed to your hungry eyes. A blushing pink line rises in the knife's wake, pricking at his skin with ease.

Bucky likes it that way. 'That way' meaning sharp. And 'it' being his knife and his girl.

"Doll?"

Lip tucked between your teeth, you savor the flutter of his lashes when he plucks at the hip of your catsuit, grinning wide like a predator. The spandex snaps against your skin with a biting pain. "Yes, James?"

"Give me the knife. Now." The gravel in his voice has you withdrawing the blade from his skin and pouting like you're innocent. Like his hard-on isn't already strained against your thigh. He meets your gaze then, pupils blown as he sighs. Out of relief or disappointment, he does not know.

"Give me a kiss. Now," you mimic.

"Fuckin— you know what? Fine." Vibranium clamps onto your jaw, tugging you close as his lips meet your own in a searing kiss. The burning cold of his fingertips brings a certain warmth to your cheeks, spreading, curling over your bones and flooding your senses. He groans into you as he licks at your mouth and draws your breath over his tongue. His hands roam your waist, and he lets out a muffled protest when you reach for his belt.

It's worse that he hasn't had a moment alone with you for a week. Libido going haywire at your touch, he revels in it, his low moan pouring down your throat. And his hands. God, his hands. They dip into your waist like cupped palms dip into the fountain of youth after years of wear and tear. His thumbs press hard against rib until you purr into him with the heat of several suns beating down on a forgotten beach.

Then, right fingers drag down your wrist, coiling around the handle of the knife and wiggling it from your loosened grasp. You pull back with a scowl, lips chafed under the wet pressure of his own, and he winks.

"Thank you, princess," he whispers against your temple with a smirk, clapping his palm onto your ass and chuckling when you squeal and back hand his bicep.

"Bastard."

…

"You. Out," Bucky barks, ducking into the stuffy tent and squeezing your hand as he glares at a pissed Sam.

"There's no way in hell you're hogging our only shelter for sex!" Sam snaps.

"Funny, 'cause that's exactly what I'm doing. Now, get out before I strip, and you get to watch me in all my naked glory fuck my gorgeous girlfriend." You drop your forehead to the center of his back, and your face goes hot. Sam shuffles past you, grumbling about ‘horny goddamn rabbits’.

"Little much, don't you think?" But Bucky's not really listening as he zips the hatch shut and pounces on you like a frenzied jaguar, lurching with the smooth coil of his stamina.

"Minx," he growls against the hot skin of your exposed clavicle, "'m gonna go into cardiac arrest with how excited you get me." He tugs the zipper of your suit further, marking the skin with wet kisses down your navel. You clutch the seam of the bedroll beneath you in your restless grip because his teeth pinch your delicate skin and the humid tent nearly drowns you.

"You bring out the knife fiend in me." Off his tongue like a moan, like he's holding back, and when he ruts into you, it's clear he is.

The super soldier's heartbeat pumps in your ears, and you gasp when it picks up, pressing your palm to his chest. He fumbles an eager hand for his thigh pocket, pupils blown at the sound of a steel click. Dopamine floods his senses, the fading light glaring across his switchblade that he finds reflects in your gaze nicely.

"Is this payback?" you whisper. His grin is nothing but cheshire then, scheming with a racing mind as he brings the needle-sharp point to the crest of your cheekbone.

"You know I would never hurt you, princess." He trips the blade low, down your throat to the valley of your breasts where he pauses in thought. His lips hover a breath over yours, and Bucky likes the way you go soft and doe-eyed and maleable in his embrace. "D'you trust me?"

"With my life."

A flash of arrogance crosses his expression, the glint in his eye shining through his god complex. The chill of the blade scrapes over the plump of your breast as he keeps his crystal eyes trained on you. You and your ragged breathing and your fingers curling into his bicep. He just has that effect on you. The corners of his lips rise wickedly at the idea.

"Dunno if I'd be so willing, babydoll," he grumbles, pressing the serrated edge to your sternum, the skin swelling on either side; it starts to sting. "But I guess that's the epitome of trust, isn't it?"

A hiss through your bared frown when the flesh breaks for crimson. He's quick to lap at the wound, driving the blade of his knife through the base of the tent and into the dirt beside your shoulder. His palm flattens against your rib cage as he jerks your zipper fully open and peels the suit from your torso.

"Now, that wasn't so bad," he says, feeling your lungs flood with air beneath his shaking hands. Your head lulls to the side, and if he didn't know better, he would think you were pissed. He thumbs over your fresh cut, hushing you when you squirm. "What happened to my poor girl?"

"Fuck you."

"Doll," he warns.

"I hate you."

"Take it back," he huffs, kneeling between your thighs with his fingertips tweaking your pebbled nipples. While concerned, he's been turned on since noon, no thanks to you. Desperate fingers go to rake your scalp as he leans down to pepper ever present kisses over your jaw. "C'mon, lemme kiss it better."

You look to him like he's the prime suspect in your own murder, and it shatters his poor heart to nothing but ash in his sunken chest. Anger feeds your fire until you flip him off with a smirk that makes his brain do a spine-twisting somersault. Without a second thought, your wrists are pinned to the ground, tight enough to fracture, and yet he still handles you like you're porcelain.

"If you don't ease up, I'll have no choice but to fuck the attitude right outta you. Hmm? Hard to complain when you're busy moaning for me." Sweat flecks down his temple, saliva pooling in his mouth when you blink up at him, jaw unhinged, fingers ticking. He's an animal in this light.

"It's like being a douchebag is second nature to you," you mumble, and you feel him snap with a shift of his weight. An inner gearshift from benign victim to the apex predator. Or maybe he was never benign, just lying in wait.

"Oh, you've earned it now, babydoll."

He strips you of your uniform with a yank, palming for your feverish skin as he licks at your bottom lip. Some volatile form of submission. Like he's teasing you out of your husk just to rip you to shreds. But God be damned if you wouldn't offer him the very weapon of your own demise.

His tac-gear clatters to the ground while he takes your fist to curl around his cock, coated slick with precum. He huffs out a breathy chuckle against your neck when you slowly stroke him. Then his hips buck into your grip as his teeth sink into your jugular.

"See what you do to me? Been hard as a fuckin' rock since the second I saw you. Couldn't help but remember how you taste. Let alone how you feel." And nothing satisfies a super soldier's cravings like the real thing.

He hoists your thigh up and over his hip, 'round his lower back. Like a belt. Like you're his consolation prize. You push the pad of your thumb across his frenulum, tearing something gargled and ragged from his throat. Something almost sentient as he tosses his head back in earnest. Yet all you can do it stare: his eyelids drifting shut, fingers strangling the sheets beneath you, his every muscle tensed like his life depends on it. Not a bad view. Not bad at all.

Then, your fingers tighten with the pulsing vein along his cock, and he has to slip from your hold to compose his sex drive. His eyes blink open to a zig-zag scene that he can't quite register until his eyes uncross.

"Christ, woman, give your poor lover a break. I'm still recovering from just lookin' at you," Bucky sighs. And he falls head over heels for the way you thumb over his dimpled chin and kiss him like an angel, soft and sweet and ethereal like no other.

The illusion shatters, however, when you bring your hips to meet his in one single thrust. Relentless woman with the face of a goddess. It brings him to his knees—or in this case, elbows.

You giggle at his pinched expression, wiggling your pelvis as his tip presses deeper into you cunt. Then it's payback when your back arches and your nails dig into his flanks, baring your neck to his gaze.

"Yeah, right there, princess," he mumbles, "I know you missed me inside this pretty pussy." And the cocky bastard is right. He feels it in the way you stretch to fit his girth, the supple elasticity of your cunt clenching in unfamiliarity. The subtle rotation of his hips is evil in principle but so damn perfect when everything is so warm, so wet, how can either of you resist.

You grasp for his shoulders when he hooks your ankles around his lower back. And oh, does he know how to work at this angle. His tip drives deeper just so he can drag back out again, slow in every roll of his hips. Any protest flies out the door in heavy breaths across skin and fingertips

The dark closes in around you, suffocating as it drenches your skin and renders you undiluted beauty in his arms. With every moan, he picks up speed just to hear you against his throat.

"Bucky." It bubbles from your throat as an ode to his warm body and restless mind. “Love you.”

"I gotcha, sweetheart. I love you, too." His muscles twist around you, and he's close with the stutter of his hips, digging deeper while his metal palm flattens against your tummy. Your fingers comb his hair from his eyes; you look like an angel, blissed out, half-lidded eyes, and he smiles down at you, still so focused despite his unraveling.

The tent's zipper hisses when Sam peeks in with an awfully disgruntled, "what the hell, cyborg? A warning?"

"I think you had enough of a warning," Bucky growls, continuing his thrusts when your head tilts to the side, an embarrassed squeal from your lips.

"Jesus Christ, I thought you'd be done, old man," Sam chuckles.

"Get the fuck out!"

"Fine, fine, just try not to break your girlfriend." A loud sigh from Sam before the zipper shuts with a metallic grinding noise that echoes in your ears as static.

"Sorry, pretty baby, 'pparently someone's common sense left 'im," Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss to the broken flesh of your sternum, lashes batting as a sufficient apology. A harsh thrust then, punching the air from his chest as every fiber in his body coils and snaps to the beat of your heart, filling you with wet heat. He rubs his middle finger over your clit with a vengeful smirk when your back curls with the weight of your release.

…

"D'you always go commando under these things?" he coos, tentative and quiet while the pads of his fingers trace feather-light patterns over your damp skin. Your snug uniform and the way it hugs you hasn't left his mind. Fact, it never really does.

"Yeah, I mean kevlar is surprisingly breathable, so what's the point."

"Noted." Bucky drapes his forearm across your navel, shifting onto his palm and grinning above you like the cat that got the cream: mischievous and pleased out of his mind. "I'm one lucky sonuvabitch, huh?"

"Yeah, you are," you tease, hooking your thighs around his hips as he settles into your body with a chuckle, chest erupting with delight taut against yours. He tucks the hair plastered across your forehead to your hairline with a knuckle, lips puckered against your temple in a kiss sweet enough to give you cavities.

Your hands dive into the sleeping bag, trailing the sweat-slicked sinew in his back, dipping with the tightly-wound muscle before sinking your fingertips into the plump of his ass with a cheeky smile.

"Little minx." Bucky hangs his head with a grin, nipping for your cupid's bow then pecking lower at your baby-soft lips. Though he knows he went far enough with the tip of his blade, he would never admit it to you. The same way you would never admit that you liked the sting of it. But now that he's left a scar on your chest—an unspoken promise of his and hers, a permanent mark in your complexion—there's truly no turning back.

And he proves it with another kiss that renders you breathless, taking in his solace with wavering consciousness. The line between asleep and awake and Bucky's hands blurr to something more than reality. Though, the noise he makes against your mouth is nothing short of sinful.

From the opposite side of the tent, Sam grumbles, "mind shutting the fuck up? Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Sorry, Sammy!" you whisper.

"No, you're not."

marvel masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #x reader #x fem!reader #smut #bucky barnes smut #marvel #marvel smut #tw knifeplay #tw knife #tw blood

821 notes · View notes

goldfades · 19 days ago

Text

PICK & ROLL ─── PAIGE BUECKERS

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.6k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | request: you didn't give a single fuck about sports or understand them, but the moment certain tall blonde was in your sight you were the biggest basketball fan. basketball? most interesting thing in the world. that if you knew something? pff, of course you do not know everything about it (you wanted paige so bad lmao) for @kokoch4nel

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | nothing but cute fluffiness! pining (kinda?), insta-stalking (HA), paige being a cocky gal, teasing, nothing else!

The first time you saw her, it was purely accidental. Like a bird flying into a glass window, you collided with the moment, unprepared and utterly floored. A friend had dragged you to the game, insisting, "It’s UConn! Come on, it’ll be fun!"—an assertion you immediately regretted the second you stepped into the roaring, sweat-laden coliseum of enthusiasm that was Gampel Pavilion. Basketball, you’d thought, was a game of giants and squeaky shoes, a sport you could confidently say you knew absolutely nothing about. It wasn’t your scene. It wasn’t your vibe.

Or so you thought.

Because that was before her.

She was blonde—platinum, almost—and tall, yes, but not in the ungainly, lanky way you imagined athletes to be. She moved like water, fluid and effortless, commanding the court with an unassuming grace that bordered on unfair. And her smile—it wasn’t for you, of course, it was for her teammates, or the fans, or maybe no one at all—but it lit up her face in a way that made something dormant in you stir awake.

You hadn’t asked your friend her name because you didn’t want to give yourself away. Instead, you feigned a casual disinterest, leaning back in your seat and pretending the choreography of the game made even the slightest bit of sense to you. But your eyes betrayed you. They lingered on her as she zipped across the court, her ponytail whipping in the air like a metronome to some invisible rhythm.

“Bueckers,” your friend had said, catching you staring. “She’s insane. Probably one of the best players in college basketball right now.”

You’d hummed, nodding like you understood, like that sentence hadn’t just rewired something fundamental in your brain.

Paige Bueckers.

You didn’t know it then, but the syllables of her name were about to become a prayer, a mantra, a haunting.

You spent the rest of the game feigning fascination with basketball—standing when everyone stood, clapping when they clapped, shouting when they shouted—though every ounce of your focus was pinned to her, this enigmatic golden girl who made your heart beat like a buzzer in overtime.

It wasn’t until the final whistle that you realized just how deep you’d fallen. And by then, it was already too late.

The game ended, and the rest of the night was a blur. Your friend chattered on about the plays, the scores, the sheer dominance of UConn’s offense, but all you could do was replay the golden flash of Paige Bueckers in your mind. Her quick, darting movements, the smirk she wore when she sank a three-pointer, the way her hand briefly rested on her teammate’s shoulder after a foul. It wasn’t just basketball, you realized. It was her.

And like any modern-day fool smitten beyond reason, you did what any rational person would do: you went home, crawled into bed, and stalked her Instagram.

Her page was... vibrant. Game photos, sure, but also candids, selfies, and the occasional post with captions like “locked in 🔒” or something equally infuriatingly confident. Paige had that kind of smile that looked genuine even when it wasn’t, and her comment sections were flooded with fire emojis, hearts, and people professing undying love for her.

But nothing prepared you for her TikTok.

You downloaded the app with a shameful urgency, feeling slightly ridiculous as you typed her name into the search bar. There she was. Laughing at trends, goofing off with teammates, dancing like she had the entire world in the palm of her hand. It was unfair, the way she radiated charm without even trying. You watched way too many of her videos in one sitting, spiraling into a rabbit hole you weren’t sure you’d ever climb out of.

Then it happened.

You were still half-scrolling through her Instagram, thumb moving mindlessly, when your body decided to betray you. A slip. A touch too eager.

You double-tapped one of her pictures.

You froze. The blood drained from your face as you stared at the bright red heart on a post from two years ago. It wasn’t even a basketball shot—it was Paige lounging on a couch, looking effortlessly cool in an oversized hoodie, a Starbucks cup in hand.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you whispered, your voice climbing in panic. You quickly unliked it, but the damage was done. She probably has notifications on for her posts. She’s going to know. She’s going to think I’m a freak.

In a blind haze of panic, you did the only logical thing: you hurled your phone across the room, watching it land on the carpet with a dull thud.

For the rest of the night, you lay in bed, replaying the disastrous moment in your head like a bad movie you couldn’t stop watching. Sleep came reluctantly, plagued with dreams of Paige scrolling through her phone, laughing at your desperate, unhinged attempt to lurk unnoticed.

Morning came too quickly, the sunlight piercing through your blinds like an interrogation light. Groaning, you reached for your phone, still half-buried under a pile of discarded clothes. You opened it, expecting nothing, hoping for oblivion.

But there it was.

The notification.

Paige Bueckers has followed you.

You sat up so fast your vision blurred. Your heart pounded against your ribs like it was trying to escape. Paige had followed you? And she did it first?

You stared at the screen, disbelief coursing through you. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe she thought you were someone else. Maybe—

A new notification popped up.

Paige Bueckers sent you a message.

Your breath caught in your throat as you tapped on it, your hands trembling so badly you almost dropped your phone.

Her message was casual. Too casual.

Paige 💕 so are you just gonna pretend like you didn’t just deep dive my insta last night ?

You threw your phone again.

This time, it bounced off the wall.

It started small: a few texts exchanged, playful banter about your accidental deep dive into her Instagram. Paige’s messages were quick, witty, and oddly effortless, which only fueled your crush. Somehow, in the back and forth, she didn’t make you feel like you were talking to one of the most talented athletes in college basketball. She made you feel like you were talking to Paige.

You two fell into a rhythm over the following weeks—texts turned into calls, calls turned into FaceTimes, and eventually, FaceTimes turned into actual plans. The first time you hung out, she suggested coffee. By the third hangout, you’d graduated to hanging out at her apartment, something that simultaneously thrilled and terrified you.

Which was how you found yourself now, sitting on Paige Bueckers’ couch, pretending to understand basketball.

Her apartment was warm, modern, and surprisingly homey for someone who probably spent most of her life traveling or on the court. A soft throw blanket was draped over the armrest of the couch, and there was an unmistakable scent of vanilla in the air. Paige was sprawled out next to you, wearing an oversized hoodie and athletic shorts, her feet propped up on the coffee table. She looked completely at ease, while you were internally spiraling, hyper-aware of every movement you made.

The game playing on the TV wasn’t college ball—it was the NBA. Something about the Lakers and the Celtics, teams you knew more from Twitter beef than actual sports knowledge. But Paige was watching with rapt attention, occasionally muttering something about a defensive rotation or a bad screen.

You, on the other hand, were staring blankly at the screen, trying to mimic her reactions like you weren’t two seconds away from Googling “What is a screen in basketball?” on your phone.

“So, what do you think of their zone defense?” Paige asked suddenly, turning to you with a curious glint in her eye.

“Oh, um,” you started, your brain scrambling. “Yeah, it’s... really good. Like, solid. They’re covering all their zones. Defensively.”

Paige’s lips twitched, but she didn’t call you out—yet. “Mmm, yeah, totally. But did you notice how they’re switching on ball screens?”

You blinked. “Oh, yeah. The, uh... ball. Screen. Switch. Super noticeable.”

Her grin widened, and she leaned back, stretching her arms across the back of the couch. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

You flushed, your eyes darting to the screen as if it would save you. “Of course I do,” you lied. “I’m, like, really into basketball now. Totally understand all of this.”

Paige let out a low laugh, the kind that sent a shiver down your spine. “Okay, Miss Basketball Expert. Tell me what a pick-and-roll is.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You searched your brain for anything, anything, that sounded even remotely basketball-adjacent. “Uh... it’s... when you, like, pick the ball... and then... roll with it?”

Paige doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach. “Oh my God, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met,” she managed between gasps. “Pick the ball and roll with it? Are you serious?”

You crossed your arms, trying to feign offense. “Okay, well, not everyone grows up playing basketball, Paige. Some of us have other hobbies.”

“Like stalking my Instagram?” she shot back, her grin wicked.

“Low blow,” you muttered, unable to suppress your own smile.

Paige sat up, still laughing softly as she nudged your shoulder with hers. “You’re adorable, you know that? You don’t have to pretend to know basketball to impress me.”

Your stomach flipped. “I wasn’t trying to impress you,” you lied again, though the heat rising to your cheeks gave you away.

“Sure you weren’t,” she teased, leaning a little closer, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “But for real, if you ever want to learn, I could teach you. That way, next time someone asks you about a pick-and-roll, you won’t embarrass yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was racing. “Fine. Teach me, Coach Bueckers.”

“Deal,” she said, smiling like she’d just won some unspoken game.

And as the game on TV continued—now entirely ignored by both of you—you couldn’t help but think that sitting here, with her laughing at your complete lack of basketball knowledge, felt better than anything you could’ve imagined.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

654 notes · View notes