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truer words have never been spoken
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UUUGGGHHHHH The choice between deciding to write about Yukki x reader or Otoya x reader is so hard 😣 😭
#I can’t pick and I love them both#they both don’t get enough love 😔#blue lock#bllk#the Yukki one probably gonna be model au with manager!reader or something#minor spice at best for that one#and otoya one prob gonna be them in high school and Otoya thinks he’s as straight as a line#but reader helps him out with that#probably lot of spice#kenyu yukimiya#yukimiya kenyu#eita otoya#otoya eita
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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ match my freak !!
ᝰ.ᐟ the two of you are private not secret, but when the media starts to speculate that the two of you are no longer together, neither of you are too happy. the best way to get everyone to stop with the breakup rumors? posting something a little bit nasty to the feed to satiate everyone's curiosity. (fem!reader)
featuring tobio kageyama, atsumu miya, tetsurou kuroo, wakatoshi ushijima, tooru oikawa, rintarou suna content contains breeding kink (atsumu, wakatoshi), pregnant reader (wakatoshi), famous!reader (changes depending on scenario), creampie (tetsurou), hatefucking (not really, you + kuroo just like to antagonize each other but the attraction is there), scratches on his back (tobio), hickeys (tooru), wet n messy (rintarou), possessive!character x possessive!reader (the two of you are obsessed with each other ok), social media references lol author's notes i'm definitely doing a blue lock version, i'm just seeing if this is a popular premise lol <3 based off this original concept !! these are just silly little drabbles for me to warm up to the idea of writing again haha
౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA
your fans are speculating: that you and kageyama have broken up. fans are recording footage from you on your latest tour and claim that you're "clearly disassociating" and "somewhere else mentally" when it comes to singing your iconic love songs. you and kageyama have always kept your relationship private because he's not a very open person to begin with, and you don't want to give the media more material to misconstrue. you know that kageyama hates when some random person will annotate your verses on genius lyrics and try to make the claim that your innocent metaphor is you wanting to jump ship and leave kageyama. and you hate how it's your own fans who are making wild accusations of you no longer being with the man all your love songs are about.
you posted: kageyama, with his back turned to the camera so all that fills your camera is the surprisingly broad expanse of his muscular back and shoulders. he's not even flexing, and it's obvious that he's a world-class athlete. he's facing the closet, trying to find a shirt to put on, and it would be a semi-innocent photo, the pinterest-perfect photo inspo for every private not secret relationship out there, except for the fact that there are clearly faint, red lines — scratches — running down his back. you caption the photo with a "monday morning 🤍" (your insane fans spam the comment section to exclaim how they knew you two were still a thing... and to speculate that this photo is somehow an easter egg for an upcoming song/album. well, they're right: you two will always be a thing, and tobio dicked you down so good last night that you could write him a whole album.)
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩
"fuck," the word slips through his gritted teeth, and you can tell that your tobio is still upset about how your fans seem divided. half of them claim no one could ever make them hate tobio (you find those fans to be absolutely adorable), and the other half...
well, the other half are making slideshow posts to audios that go "some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world" and the ones that seem to go viral are always the ones that feature you and tobio.
"not hidin' you away." he mutters, never slowing down his thrusts. he admires the expression on your face as he fucks into you, his ego pleased with how receptive you are to his every movement. he has you speared on his cock, your tight little cunt full of him, your eyes getting so adorably teared-up because he's just a little bit too much for you to handle. tobio isn't good with words; he thinks you're the most beautiful girl to exist, but he can't verbalize it. so he just takes in your sweet, fucked-out face, the reaction only he's capable of drawing from you, and it all gets so overwhelming for him.
he has to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your body wash as he continues to bully his cock into your soaked pussy. "why's it bad if i want to keep you all to myself?" he's practically whining, and you think this would be so cute if only you weren't currently chasing after your release. or rather, tobio's forcing you to cum, whether you want to or not. it's not like you can stop him; tobio devotes himself to always ensuring that you finish before him. he likes the satisfaction of knowing only he can take care of you, and he especially likes the way his cock looks with you creaming all over it.
when he gets like this, all you can do is cling to him, your arms wrapped around his muscular build. when he gets rough with his thrusts, when his body gets just the slightest bit sweaty from the exertion (evidence of just how much work he puts into fucking you), you have to dig your manicured nails (the set he paid for) into the skin of his toned back. otherwise, you'd lose your grip, and your hands would slip off.
tobio relishes the slight stinging pain of your nails scratching down his skin. but the scratches aren't enough. he needs to make you cum. when you get so caught up in your climax, you start clawing at him as you lose control. he loves the scratches you leave on him; it's proof that he's yours just as much as you are his.
౨ৎ ATSUMU MIYA
haters are saying: that you're just using atsumu for content. you're a gold digger. you're not genuine. you're not "wifey material." spectators are claiming that atsumu is playing worse than before because he's too "pussywhipped" for you. well, he likes to cheekily admit to you that he is addicted to your pussy, but they're wrong about everything else. obviously. however, the haters are feeling very vindicated whenever they see atsumu hasn't been posting you as much. (you're traveling for a new vlog series on your page, but no one knows.)
he posted: a mirror selfie. which isn't breaking news. atsumu miya always breaks the internet when he posts a mirror selfie because the only thing worse than a hot guy is a hot guy who knows he's hot. no one is a stranger to the sight of a post-workout, sweaty, shirtless atsumu, who flaunts his tight abs and muscular thighs with a steamy mirror selfie. but this photo? this one is going triple platinum. it's going down in history. this selfie is taken in dim lighting; the curtains in the background are drawn shut, he's got one hand gripping his phone (making the phone look tiny in his big hand), and he's got one arm wrapped around you. it's not an innocent hug, though. he's cupping your ass, and the phone in front of his face does nothing to shield his satisfied smirk. you're clad in nothing but lacy lingerie from a designer who loves to sponsor you, and you're clinging to his side, almost like you can't even stand without his support. it's clear that the two of you definitely were... appreciating the work your favorite designer put in when they created that lacy set.
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩
"what do you think?" you're smiling at him, knowing damn well what he's thinking.
atsumu looks up at you, reflexively licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you wearing a new set of lingerie that you just got delivered. it leaves little room for imagination, and the material looks so delicate, atsumu is already thinking about how he'll have to apologize to the designer for ripping it off of you.
"i think I'm the luckiest man alive right now." atsumu is shameless in the way he's admiring you, the way the setting sun still peeks through the curtains, enveloping your body in a delicious golden glow as you inch closer and closer to him.
in a matter of seconds, he's pulling you on top of him, placing wet, sloppy kisses over any centimeter of your skin he can reach. when you make a move to slip off the panties, he protests.
"leave 'em on f'me, baby. please?"
he fucks you with you still wearing the lingerie set. your breasts are spilling out of the bra, and all he did was move your panties to the side so he could stretch you out with his cock.
"fuckin' idiots, tellin' me you're not good enough to marry. i'll show 'em what a good girl you are, right? gonna put a ring on your finger, and make you my wife." he's fucking his cock into you, making sure that your cute cunt knows who it belongs to. "gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. no one's gonna say shit about our family, huh? 'cause i won't let 'em."
your cunt clenches up so nicely with every comment he makes that atsumu knows he has to make all those pussydrunk promises come true.
౨ৎ TETSUROU KUROO
the tabloids are posting: paparazzi photos of you — the socialite daughter of the man who owns the msby black jackals, and jva's promotion division's golden boy, tetsurou kuroo. it's late at night, and the two of you are clearly leaving a party celebrating the success of another eventful volleyball season. you're wearing the iconic ysl heels with a black mini-dress that honestly should be called a micro-dress. your hair is a mess, you're walking like your knees are struggling not to wobble, and walking three steps behind you despite his longer stride is kuroo; his tie is crooked, his cheeks are flushed, and he has a grin that says something like i just fucked one of the richest bratty heiresses in japan, and i left her wanting more. the amount of blind items that are allegedly alluding to you and kuroo are being spread all over tiktok. one reads, "this sports club heiress was seen exiting a party with this semi-known marketing mastermind who works in the sports industry. apparently, they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and no one can recall seeing them together during the party; everyone only caught glimpses of them running away from the festivities together."
you posted: a photo slideshow on instagram of your absolutely iconic outfit from the party, only these photos were clearly taken before the party. your hair is done, your makeup is perfect, and your caption states don't believe everything you read. the last slide is a screenshot of an online headline speculating about your "new man" with a photo of a grinning kuroo from that night. the reason why this makes everyone go insane is because you're no stranger to a scandal — this is, however, the first time you've ever addressed a headline.
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩
"hurry up," you hiss, your eyes darting from left to right as you make sure no one is nowhere near the secluded corridor kuroo somehow managed to find.
"y'know, i thought girls were supposed to like guys who don't blow their loads prematurely." even when he's bullying his cock into your slicked up cunt, savoring the way your sensitive walls are clenching around his dick, tetsurou has a very annoying habit of still sounding entirely in control. for someone who can't keep his hands to himself when it comes to you, he's irritatingly great at playing nonchalant.
but he's just a man, after all. he might tower over you, his large body shielding you from any prying eyes, and he might know your body so well that he can bring you to completion twice (once with his fingers curling against that special spot of yours, and another one so rudely wrung out from you when he slid his cock in your orgasm-recovering, overly sensitive pussy) in just the fifteen minutes he's been toying with you tonight, but you know that he must be feeling something. you saw him shift his pants the moment his eyes met yours from across the room, when his eyes travelled down your body and followed the way your dress emphasized the curvatures of your body.
"if you don't finish right now, i'm not going to let you cum inside." you threaten him, trying to steady your voice as you bite back a moan. it'd be a major issue if the two of you got caught, with the volleyball association's golden boy being buried balls-deep inside a sports team owner's bratty daughter.
with every sharp snap of his hips, kuroo is only forcing more slick to come gushing out of your pussy. he can't even take the time to admire the white ring you left around his cock; he's too focused on chasing after his release because he didn't get to where he's at by not being opportunistic.
"if i cum inside, you have to keep it in your panties the whole night. you wouldn't want that, would you?" he sounds a little breathless now, his pace quickening as his thrusts get sloppier. he's smiling at you, that damn annoying smile that makes you want to roll your eyes or insult him. but your body betrays you. his grin only widens when your pussy tightens up at the idea of having his cum soaking in your panties while you interact with people at this party. a dirty little secret shared only between you two.
he lets out a breathy chuckle at your body's betrayal. "okay, princess. since you want it so badly, i guess i better give it to you."
you could practically cum again the minute you feel the warmth of him finishing inside of you. you're a spoiled brat who gets what she wants, and while you refuse to admit it, you want him. all of him.
and he's going to give it to you.
౨ৎ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA
the media is going crazy over: the fact that ushijima is the type of person who doesn't clarify anything because he just assumes that everyone can read his mind. he's blunt, sure, but he's not really the type who does much explaining. after the first game of the season, an interviewer asks him if he enjoyed spending the off-season with you, his girlfriend and one of the most beloved, fan-favorite WAGs of all time. ushijima stares straight into the camera as he states in his usual deep, flat rumble of a voice, "the off-season was successful, but she isn't my girlfriend anymore. thank you." and then he just walks off, like he didn't just drop the most insane piece of information ever?
he posted: a photo of an ultrasound that was clearly taken out of his wallet since it's thrown on the table in the background. he's holding it in his left hand, and the overhead lighting is reflected from the silver wedding band he's wearing. now that he's off the court, he's able to wear it. in typical ushijima fashion, there is no caption, but a picture is worth a thousand words. you're not his girlfriend. you're his wife, and soon to be mother of his child.
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩
"mmph — 'toshi!" you squeal out, your calves burning from the stretch as your beloved wakatoshi has your legs bent and spread for him. he's just so big that you'd never be able to handle all of him, and yet, here you are, bent into a mating press every night since the two of you have gotten married. you try to beg him to slow down, but words escape you as he buries himself into your pussy, letting out a deep, guttural groan as the warmth of your cunt coats his cock. there's no better feeling than this.
even if you could request for him to slow down, it wouldn't have mattered or made much of a difference. your husband has a one-track mind. when wakatoshi is set on a goal, it's hard to break his focus until he sees it to the end. and right now, wakatoshi's goal is to fuck a baby into you, to see you round with life because of the seeds he planted.
he's hunched over you, abs tightening and flexing with every sharp inhale of breath he takes. he's gonna fuck himself empty, going to keep filling your cunt with his seed 'til he's shooting blanks. his eyes glance at the ring he put on your finger before returning to admire your blissful expression and the way your body seems to have gone boneless from all the fucking he's had you endure.
"just a little bit longer." he manages to say, before forcing his cock in even deeper. "just have to make sure it takes."
౨ৎ TOORU OIKAWA
everyone is claiming: long distance relationships never last. when oikawa makes the shocking announcement that he is no longer a japanese citizen, everyone immediately wondered what that meant for the future of your relationship. does that mean it's over? officially? if oikawa is leaving behind his hometown, then by default, is he leaving you behind too?
he posted: a photo slideshow, only most of the images were clearly taken by you. the first one is of him driving; the two of you are in his convertible, and he's wearing a white button down with most of the buttons undone. on the stark white of the shirt are kiss marks; the imprint of your lips lined with cherry-red lipstick are all over the material of his shirt and on his freshly-tanned skin. the other photos are of what you two ate for dinner, the sunset from the beach, and a selfie of you two looking more in love than ever. fans are quick to point out the massive hickey on your neck, and tooru tags you in a reply to the top comment that points it out, and he's saying "you missed a spot babe." you reply back, "i ran out of concealer because you gave me too many to cover"
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩
"i missed you," your boyfriend mumbles into your soft skin. tooru can get so clingy when he goes long periods without seeing you, and you indulge him because he's tooru. he's got his face buried in the space between your shoulder and neck, and his breath is warm against your skin as he speaks.
"everyone is saying i'm abandoning you, but that's not true." he whines.
"i know, baby. i don't care." you laugh softly, absentmindedly playing with the soft strands of his hair. he settles into you, and it's almost sweet, until he starts nipping at your skin.
"tooru, what are you doing?" you can't find it in yourself to chastise him too harshly, but you do have to restrain yourself from pulling back.
"jus' want to show everyone that you're still my girl." he peers up at you, licking his lips. "you'll let me do that, won't you?"
tooru bites and sucks at your skin, sharp canines grazing your soft flesh. he sucks at your most sensitive areas while he works his fingers in and out of your gushing cunt. when he pulls his fingers out and holds them up, so the sunlight can shine and really highlight how much of your juices is coating his digits, he smiles. his girl gets this wet just from him marking you up?
as he sucks on his fingers, relishing in the way you taste, he can't help but be happy to know that no matter how far away the two of you are from each other (for now), you're still his girl.
౨ৎ RINTAROU SUNA
your fans are telling you: suna doesn't care about you. suna doesn't put forth any effort into your relationship. suna literally streams on twitch during the off-season yet he can't seem to ever post you?? suna doesn't deserve you. suna—
suna is a lot of things, but nothing like the deadbeat, ashamed boyfriend allegations. in fact, all your well-meaning fans are so far off on how he treats you that you and him get a good laugh from the outrageous conclusions they've jumped to.
you posted: a photo of rintarou with his head on your lap, and you've got your fingers playing with his hair. it's a sweet photo, really. except for the fact that you decided to pair it with an audio that's a snippet of a song that goes "he's so pretty when he goes down on me" and a caption that reads this song is so relatable 🤍
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩
anyone who thinks rintarou is a selfish lover, a lazy lover, someone who merely tolerates you or is ashamed to be with you... they clearly don't know either of you very well.
because even when he's exhausted from practice, rintarou comes home craving you. craving your sweetness, your warmth, your love — and your pussy. he's obsessed. rintarou suna loves to eat you out, and he does it with such passion, such enthusiasm, that it's hard to refuse him, even if he's been going at it for the past hour.
your juices are leaving a stain on the bedsheets, and your slick is coating your inner thighs. it doesn't help that rintarou is messy with his technique. he needs your legs spread for him, granting him easy access for him to just dig in. he's still in his practice jersey, and when he feels your grip loosening from the strands of hair you're tugging at, he'll slow down his pace, calming down to just tiny kitten licks while he peers up at you.
your head is thrown back in pleasure, and your hips have a mind of their own as they still jut forward, as if trying to bring your cunt impossibly closer to him. no need for that, really, seeing as how he craves to bury himself in your warmth, to suck on your cute little clit and have you humming all over his tongue.
"rinnie." you whine out, still subconsciously bucking up your hips. he smiles before resuming his original ministrations, gluttonous and greedy with how sloppy and hungry he is with you. if you're still capable of talking, then you're not too fucked out to not allow him to get his fill.
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#tobio kageyama x reader#kageyama smut#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu smut#tetsurou kuroo x reader#kuroo smut#wakatoshi ushijima x reader#ushijima smut#tooru oikawa x reader#oikawa smut#rintarou suna x reader#suna smut#hq x reader#haikyuu headcanons
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finally figured out the plot for my bday fic, now I just need to decide on a character 🥹
#rev rambles#the plot reminds me sm of gojo#like I can picture him#HOWEVER there’s a line I really wanna use for this fic that revolves around being an athlete#and also idk if I necessarily want my bday fic to feature gojo yk#so I’m thinking Michael Kaiser 👀#it fits him too tbh#make my blue lock debut finally 👀#don’t wanna do my baby atsumu bc he’s gotten this whole month#plus I already have a bday fic with him LOL#maybeeeee suna? possibly oikawa?#we shall see who it fits best when I get more written
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(nsfw, 18+)
gojo hates the fact that you go on dates.
he despises it whenever you bring another guy over, wants to jam a pencil into his ears whenever he hears you moan (horribly) when the guy fails to make you come.
but he loves it whenever you come sulking back to him.
“mmh, f-fuck, ‘toru slow down!” you cry around his fat cock, your fingers digging into his shoulder has your legs lock around his waist.
“you know you love it,” he seethes, his hair flipping into his face as sweat dots at his forehead. you look gorgeous like this; the makeup you so carefully did earlier smudged and running down your face as tears streak down your cheeks.
“y-yeah, but…” you trail off into a loud whine when he drops his hand down to rub at your clit, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling.
“but what?” he presses, dropping his face down to suck at your neck and chest, leaving behind dark marks in their wake, knowing anybody who saw you would see them.
“you’re usually, fuck, you’re usually not this…” you think about the right word in the midst of his relentless pounding, biting in your lip as he pinches your nipple a between two fingers, tugging at it harshly as you cry out again, “a-aggressive.”
the grin he gives you is toothy, eyes blazing a dark blue as he pulls at your bottom lip, nipping at it as his dick prods at the gummy spot deep within you.
“just need to give you a reminder sweetheart.” he says, nudging at your jaw as you tilt your head towards, giving him room to plant wet and messy kisses on your neck. his hips pick up pace as he feels you clenching more around him, the dim light from his lamp highlighting the way your essence shines around his length, mixing with his pre.
“need a, f-fuck! need a reminder for what?” you pout, your eyes so sweet yet your body so fucking tempting as you pull him closer to you, your nails digging into his back, sure to leave some red lines.
“that, shit,” he takes in a deep breath, his eyes rolling back as he feels himself about to come, “that nobody can fuck you the way i do.”
his thumb on your clit moved faster as your whines and moans fill with his groans, your back arching, tits pressing into his chest as you feel him come inside you, your orgasm following his as you see white. you feel like your about to pass out with the way he continue to pump his dick and and out of you, making sure that you don’t waste his cum.
he slows to a stop, dropping his massive build on top of you as you let him.
“see?” he says after a beat, and despite the fact that he’s cocky and too full of himself, he’s right.
“yeah,” you heave a sigh, giving up as you tug on some of his hairs in annoyance, “you’re my best fuck by far.”
#gojo x reader#gojo x reader smut#gojo x you#gojo x you smut#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#gojo smut#satoru x reader#satoru x reader smut#jjk smut#gojo drabble#jujutsu Kaisen
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Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers...
Synopsis. You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.
Pairing. Officer! Gojo Satoru x Reader x Officer! Toji Fushiguro
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, police! au, unprotected, being pulled over, thréesome, eiffel tower, oral (female + male receiving), manhandling, dynamics, cúmplay, marking, they lowkey make it a competition, implied dp, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 5.0k
A/N. I don’t condone actually speeding y’all.
You were screwed. Completely and utterly screwed.
“Shit shit shit-” you hiss, eyes flitting to the flashing red and blue lights in your rearview mirror, sirens blaring behind you. The engine roared, pavement a blur beneath your tires - a stupid, spur-of-the-moment decision. You knew you were pushing your luck with your late night speeding, fueled by an empty highway and even emptier adrenaline.
And, well, it seems like your little thrill-seeking caught up with you, quite literally, as you hastily pull over on the side of the road. Heart sinking when the police car parks right behind you - the final nail in your coffin.
You heave out a steadying breath, trying to get your thoughts in order long enough to come up with an even slightly believable explanation. Why did you think this was a good idea, again?
Tap! Tap! Tap!
Shit, in the heat of the moment you’d barely heard the heavy footsteps in the distance. Immediately snapping your head up to look at-
Oh.
Whatever flimsy excuse dies in your throat with just one glance at the officer knocking at your glass - the unfairly hot officer. Your face burns as you urgently roll down the window - partly out of necessity, and partly because you really wanted to see him better. Those snowy white locks, and- shit was that a dimple at the corner of the sly little smile curling his lips?
Twinkling gaze locked with yours, he rests an arm against the roof of the car - and you almost have to look away, your looming speeding ticket being the last thing on your mind at the way his arms flex so enticingly. Leaning down to smirk, “Ya have any idea how fast you were going, sweetheart?”
His voice was playful, and deep enough that it takes a second for you to find yours. Swallowing thickly, you bat your lashes innocently up at him, “Sorry, officer. I have no idea.”
“Fast enough that’s for sure,” he huffs out a laugh, eyeing the way you squirm embarrassedly in your seat, “C’mon, license n’ registration, now.”
Fumbling through your glove compartment, heat rushes down your spine when his fingertips happen just brush against yours as you hand over the documents. While he looks them over, you take the moment to read his badge - Gojo.
“Officer Gojo-”
“Satoru, m’not one for formalities.”
“Officer Satoru,” you press, words laced with just the right amount of flirtation. “I’m terribly sorry, I promise I didn’t know the speed limit.” And if it were any other moment then you’d be almost embarrassed at how you were fawning over him - but, well, one look at him and how could you resist?
“M’sure.” Not when he dips his head infinitely closer, hot breath fanning your face. Close - too close. And especially not when he mutters lowly, “Out.”
Which is how you found yourself strutting down the highway in a straight line, trying your very best not to tumble under the pressure of a looming Satoru.
“Keep walkin’.” And by God he was enjoying this a bit too much. Leaning against your car, arms crossed, and watching your every move. Stare so intense that a stupid little part of you couldn’t help but wonder whether his eyes lingered on you a bit too long to check for signs of drunkenness or something else.
“Well,” Satoru’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, whirling around to catch him sweeping you one last time from head to toe. “Seems you’re not under the influence.” And you’ve barely let a smug smile make its way onto your face before he’s plowing on, “But m’still gonna have to write you up for speeding.”
“Oh come on.” you drag out, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet. Leaning ever-so-slightly closer to him, making sure that the tight top you wore lets him see a perfect view of your breasts. “I really didn’t know.”
Eyes flickering down. Once. Twice.
Success.
But Satoru only raises his brows, muscles rippling as he crosses his arms over his chest. And by the twinkle of amusement in his gaze, you knew the smug bastard was doing this on purpose. “There are consequences for breaking the law, y’know~ Even for pretty lil’ things like you.”
Inching forward, “Can’t I just be let off with a warning, please?”
“And what makes you think you deserve one?”
Something hot, and prickly coils in your stomach at his tone. “Oh I dunno…” you trail off, so close now that there was only a hair’s breadth between your two. You could feel the heat of his body at this proximity, and it was making your head spin. “I’m sure I can convince you I do.”
Satoru huffs out a laugh, grinning, “Not me, pretty girl.” And you’ve barely registered the words before the police car door slams again, and he’s nodding his head somewhere behind you. “He’s the one that’ll be writing your ticket.”
Oh? Oh, shit.
Heart stopping, you whirl around to meet a matching, sly little smirk. “Meet, Toji, sweetheart. My patrol partner, of sorts.”
And in the dim lighting, you could make out how unfairly handsome he was. A bit older, uniform hugging him so sinfully tight - all dark hair and rugged, dangerous authority as he skims over your license. “Your superior.” the rough baritone of the newcomer’s voice sent shocks right down to your core.
“Semantics.”
“What’ve we got here?” Toji asks, tilting his head, unabashedly drinking in the sight of you just as his colleague did. “Skipping out on your duties again, brat?”
“Of course not. Just that this one,” Satoru starts. And your skin burns at the way he addresses you, words dripping with a mean little tone as if you were nothing but a plaything, “Says she didn’t know the speed limit, and wants to get off easy.”
“‘Get off easy’, huh?” Toji hums thoughtfully. “Don’t know if we can do that, doll.”
“Mhm, the old man’s right for once. Can’t put our jobs at risk, y’know?”
But oh you’d never be fooled by their little act, you catch the way their eyes meet, a silent understanding stirring between the two. You bite your lips coyly, holding back a smirk as you unhurriedly reach out to pull Toji in by his collar. His knee between your legs, your back falling against Satoru’s front, strong arms steadying you by the shoulders. “Are you sure?”
You could feel his heartbeat quickening, as was the latter’s, toned chest rumbling at the way his partner grits out a hoarse, “Positive.” Shit, they make it so easy.
Sandwiched between both men now, you whisper - low enough that they have to strain their heads closer to hear, “But I promise I’ll be a good girl, officers.”
Toji’s lips are on you before you know it - so hot and just as messy as you thought the man would be. One hand around your throat, squeezing lightly as he licks at the seam of your mouth. Such a desperate clash of lips and saliva as he bullies his tongue inside to intertwine with yours.
He tastes almost minty, with the slight taste of something so intoxicating that you don’t even realize you’re pushing down on Satoru, grinding in mindless little motions. At least, not until he’s gripping tightly at your hips, shifting your ass ever-so-slightly to graze against his swollen cock.
That makes you gasp and pull apart, tiny strings of saliva snapping as you look behind at Satoru. Feeling him, so big, so hot behind you - even through his uniform.
“Is that-”
“Shh, focus on what you’re doing, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly. Breath ghosting your ear as a hand comes up to squish your cheeks together, forcing you to face forward. “Wouldn’t wanna make my dear supervisor here mad, huh?”
And it takes everything in you to take your mind off of how massive Satoru felt underneath you. Damp, and throbbing behind you, a wet little patch right where his angry tip was.
The only thing that actually snaps you out of your little reverie is Toji’s voice, husky, and dangerously sweet. “I gotta say, m’feeling left out.” he sighs mockingly, fingers tightening around your throat. “And after I’m the one supposed to be writing you up? How rude.”
You meet his eyes, half-lidded and looking at you hungrily. He liked this - seeing you all breathless and needy, so eager to please.
“M-m’sorry-” you squirm in their iron grasp.
“Now now, ‘sorry’ won’t always cut it.” Toji gives a soft, playful little smack to your ass, before addressing the other man. “Whaddaya say we do about that, brat?”
You look up at Satoru pleadingly, only to be met with a dark chuckle. Shit, if anything, you thought that he would be the nicer of the two - but that stupid little illusion falls apart with every word that falls from his lips. And oh how he enjoyed watching your slow, dawning realization that no you weren’t going to get mercy from either of them. “Guess we should teach her some manners, huh?”
“I dunno…I don’t think her slutty lil’ pussy will learn, though.”
That felt like a slap to the face - one that had your dripping cunt quivering in- fear? Anticipation? You really couldn’t give a fuck right now, not when they’re talking over you like you’re some object. Not when Toji’s shoving his knee deeper in-between your thighs, rocking your hips lightly. You whine, “P-please. I want to.”
“Want to what? C’mon now, use your words like a big girl.” It’s Satoru now, teasing you as you hesitate in giving into what you really want.
Your voice cracks pathetically, at the embarrassing admission. Being stuck between these two men way too much for you to handle. “I want…”
“Say it, sweetheart.”
“Wan’ to be fucked by you both. Have you teach me some m-manners.”
And then it happens.
Your back hits the cushion before you even realize what’s happening, sinking into your car backseat as the two officers shut the door behind you. Satoru sits on one side, while Toji pushes down the front seats on the other. Cramped, heady - and exactly where you wanted to be right now.
Shit, when did they even open the car door? You don’t have half the mind to wonder, because neither of them waste any time. Immediately groping your tits - your waist - your thighs, everywhere and anywhere they could reach.
Satoru’s kissing you now - drinking you in like you were his favorite taste. And you just think he might be yours, so sweet, like those cheap lollipops you saw at convenience stores. Drinking in your breathless gasps as Toji begins unbuttoning your top, letting it fall to God-knows-where and-
“Fuuuck.” he lets out a low whistle, “Kid, look at this.”
With an almost-pained grunt, Satoru’s pulling away. Eyes widening as he takes in the sight of you - braless, and exposed so shamefully for the both of them, of course. “No bra?” he mutters raspily. “Always knew you were a lil’ slut, doll.” But you knew by the way his breath hitches that he liked it.
And Toji did too, if the way his fingers danced along your hardened nipples was anything to go by. “What did I tell you? Bet she’s got such a naughty pussy, too.”
Your head is spinning, both from his words and the way Satoru’s claiming your lips once again. Murmuring into your mouth, “Only one way to find out.”
And that’s all that is said before they’re all but ripping your skirt off your hips. The poor, flimsy fabric nothing against the two men that were now looking at your drenched panties in pure awe.
In fact, Toji drops to his knees onto the car interior, face to face with your pretty pussy. Greedily drinking in the way your slick beads out so sloppily, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. Gaze heated enough that you’re embarrassed.
“Ah ah-” Satoru tuts, seeing the way your bare thighs were trying to close - not letting yourself have even some semblance of dignity. “You said you’d be a good girl f’us, isn’t that right, old man?”
“Mhm, s’what she said.”
Shit, you can do nothing but have your legs wrestled open, Satoru’s fingers sliding so delicately underneath your panties. “You heard him, pretty.” Index sliding up and down, up and down up and- grazing your swollen folds, all the way from your base, stopping just below your throbbing clit. Tease. “So why don’t we let officer Toji here get a good look at how wet your pretty lil’ cunt is?”
Neither man waits for your answer - of course, they don’t.
Rip!
Several things happen at once, you barely have the time to react before Satoru’s holding your panties in his fist, tattered and soaked with your slick. Your mouth drops open in disbelief as he dangles it like a badge of honor, holding it up, up, up, only to breathe in your scent obscenely. “Fuck, you even smell like the perfect angel.”
Toji - taking the opportunity - dives face-first into your pussy. Groaning at the taste - you were so sweet, so addictive on his tongue. Licking lazily up your swollen folds, letting your sweet sweet juices get all over his face as he buries himself nose-deep.
“Oh!” you gasp, fisting his locks in your hands, “Shit shit shit-” Toji was in eating you out, exactly as he was with kissing - sloppy. Unabashed. Letting his tongue move so messily all over your cunt, while his colleague held you still. Letting him devour you as he pleased.
“Shhh, don’t worry, sweetheart.” Satoru whispers into your ear, every cute lil’ whine of yours going straight to his painfully hard cock.
And, well, Satoru can’t just sit here and watch Toji have you all to himself, now. Can he? Which is why he begins playing with your sensitive nipples. Twirling his hot tongue around one, rolling the other between his fingers.
Drunk off your moans and the way you’re so overstimulated by both men. Unable to decide between where your body wants to focus on - grinding down on Toji’s relentless mouth or leaning towards Satoru’s. And it’s driving you mad.
“Hngh- fuck- Feel’s good.” you whine, bucking your hips wildly.
“Yeah? Ya like this?” Toji speaks first, words muffled around your clit. Sucking and rolling his tongue harshly across it. Over and over. Strangely in time with the quick, maddening little circles that Satoru licks around your nipples.
Being ruined like this from both ends was way too much - so you can only nod deliriously. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. Letting Toji throw your legs over his shoulders, looking so fucking gorgeous in-between your legs like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Brows furrowing in bliss as he tilts his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Shit.” Lapping even faster at your pussy. “Could get used to this.”
And let it be known that Gojo Satoru was a jealous man, because he pulls away from your tits with a lewd pop! Grunting sulkily, “Move over. Wan’ taste her cute pussy, too.”
Either Toji doesn’t hear him over the lewd little squelches coming from down below, or he ignores it - probably the latter. Continuing to make out with your cunt so messily.
But Satoru was nothing if not persistent, snaking down a hand to gather your slick on his fingertips. Immediately shoving them in his mouth and oh- You watch blearily as his eyes roll to the back of his head, sucking his fingers clean like a man possessed.
“Oh- fuck.” his mouth drops into a soft oh! Leaning forward like he wanted to kiss you senseless, only to halt and shuffle off the carseat. Because he wanted to make out with your cunt more. Dropping to the ground beside Toji, Satoru gives him a minute shove, “Move. M’not letting you be the only one to taste this heavenly pussy.”
“Hah- ya think you can eat her out the way she deserves, brat?” Licking at your inner thigh, “Lemme show you how a real man does it.”
“Watch and learn, old man.” Both men push your legs as far apart as they’d go, spreading you so shamefully for them. You reel from the stretch and the sinful sight below you.
Because immediately, they’re making out hungrily with your cunt together. Sloppily and needy - tongues bumping into each other, intertwining, burying their faces between your legs as they eat you out like a little competition. Satoru’s licking up and down your slit, pooling your slick on his tongue, while Toji’s wrapping his pretty lips around your ravaged clit.
“Sh-shit. Satoru- Toji. Ah! M’so close.” you squirm as they moan into your wet cunt, the vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running up your spine. Drinking in your little whimpers like they were addicted.
“Like this?” Satoru groans. “Feels good being eaten out by the both of us?”
The car fills with your breathy moans, and it’s hard to speak with the way they’re alternating between flicking your clit and squeezing your tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you out, thrusting at a frenzied pace - you don’t even know who is who at this point. Just getting off with a needy, “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes- Feels s’good!”
“Like being our little whore, doll?”
Maybe it was Toji’s words - so filthy even when he was calling out to you sweetly. Or maybe it was the way Satoru was grinding his jaw as he plunges his soft tongue deeper into your plushy walls. Probably it was how they both looked at you - like you were their last meal.
Because you’re cumming, and cumming so messily all over their mouths. “Shit. S’too much. Ah-”
And neither man stops - almost like it was difficult to part. Letting you drag your sloppy pussy incoherently all over while they continue to flick and dip their tongues. Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation.
“Heh, you’re gonna make her cry.” Satoru grins, as he finally parts. Your slick glossing so prettily all over the bottom half of his face - and his partner wasn’t any better. Rising from in-between your thighs looking very decidedly not sorry for eating you out till you cry.
You watch, speechless, as Toji swipes a thumb over his lips, watching in wonder the way it becomes sticky with your juices. “Could get used to this all over m’face, right?”
“Mhm.” the other man hums, absentmindedly fumbling with his shirt. Revealing smooth, milky skin - he was so deliciously sculpted, all toned muscled and a slutty waist that made your mouth water. Shit, he was a masterpiece.
But Satoru - that impatient bastard - doesn’t even give you the time to admire the entirety of him before he’s unbuckling his belt. “Though I think she’d look better with something else.”
You gasp as he pulls down his pants, tugging just enough that his swollen cock springs out. Absolutely massive and such an angry red, weeping tip dripping all the way down his length. He was so long - the type of long that had you knowing that won’t be walking properly tomorrow.
“How crude.” Toji titters, but shit how he loved the way you seemed so cockdrunk from the mere sight of Satoru’s dick. It almost made some tiny part of him jealous.
“Whatever, dibs on her cunt,” Satoru grunts, one hand moving to toy so messily with your dripping entrance. Pointedly ignoring the heated glare thrown his way by Toji, and the way he begins rolling your clit between two fingers. Almost like a little standoff - with you stuck in the middle.
Toji breaks first, “M’your superior, I should be the one to fuck her pretty pussy.”
“Aw come on.” the other man whines, and it would almost be comical if it wasn’t for the way his long fingers were massaging your hot core. “Think of it as a ah- learning experience. After all, who knows whether you’d hurt yourself trynna fuck her the way I can.”
“You mouthy little-”
“Now, pretty girl, let’s see if y’can walk the talk.”
And oh you should’ve known better than to think you’d be stuffed inside the backseat of a car with two police officers without them throwing you around like a rag doll.
Immediately, Toji’s manhandling you, fingers digging into your waist as he pushes you on all fours. Lining his aching bulge right in front of your soppy mouth, saliva seeping into his pants.
Well, there was no use wearing soiled clothing, right? You watch, cunt clenching in anticipation as he shoves down his pants in record speed.
Oh, the universe was playing a joke on you - because Toji was just as big. If a bit thicker where Satoru was longer. Prominent veins glistening in the dim light, precum dripping all the way down to the maintained tufts of black at his base.
Shit, your eyes flit between the intimidatingly big cocks. One in front of you, grazing his fat tip across your lips, and the other positioned right over your sloppy entrance. You weren’t going to make it out alive.
“Having second thoughts?” Toji scoffs, edging his hips closer. Greedily taking in how fucking pretty you looked with his precum glossing your mouth, messy and dripping down to your chin. “Wan’ tap out?”
You barely even have to your head “no” - because Satoru’s answering for you. Spreading your pussy lips with his thumb, taking one, long look before chuckling, “Course not. Y’should see the way her needy cunt is sucking my thumb up.”
“Well then. Guess we’ll get to the real fun.”
With that, Toji’s stuffing himself into your mouth. A low hiss leaving the back of his throat as you take him so well, lips bulging around his thick cock. Tonguing at the sensitive slit in a way that makes him lose his mind.
Not even giving your a proper warning as he pushes in inch by fucking inch, watching you choke and gag around him. Not stopping till he’s got your nose pressed all the way against his toned pelvis. “Shit, relax yer throat. Fuck, ah- just like that, doll.”
And if you thought he was mean then you weren’t prepared for Satoru at all - not with the way he was immediately squeezing his thick head into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your heavenly walls can’t decide between pushing him out or milking the fucking soul out of him.
“S’tight, fuckin’ love this pussy.” Satoru gasps, jaw clenched, trying not to just fuck recklessly into your cunt until you’re drunk on his cock. But God is it difficult to keep his sanity when all he gets in response from you is a choked, wet gurgles. Body bowing into both of theirs as you desperately try to relax both your throat and your cunt.
“Gonna stand around waitin’ or am I gonna have to ruin her pretty pussy for you?” Toji taunts, voice strained as he begins thrusting in quick, harsh strokes into your hot mouth. “Talked big, huh, kid?”
“Fuck off.”
And Satoru’s never one to lag behind. After all, he did graduate at the top of his batch at the academy - he can’t lose face in front of you or his annoying superior either.
So he tightens his grip on your hips, hard enough that he’s pretty sure it bruises. Pushing down on your spine to arch your back deeper onto his cock. “I dunno.” he drawls, “What do you think, sweetheart? Want me to fuck into this tight lil’ pussy? Ruin you on my cock?”
Of course, the only response he gets is a low, wet moan. Luckily, both men understand it as a loud, resounding “yes”.
“Awww, look at her- hah- Cock-drunk little slut can’t even speak.” It’s the last thing that spills out of Satoru’s mouth before he’s pushing past that tight ring of resistance. No care or concern for your poor pussy because shit his thoughts were too mangled with how heavenly you felt around him.
“You got this, pretty.” he whispers, fucking into you in small, shallow little thrusts just to fit himself inside you. “Take me all like the good girl you are.”
And oh were you such a good girl for him - Satoru thinks he could almost cum on the spot as he finally bottoms out. Sucking up his cock so fucking sinfully as his heavy balls smacking your ass, already so wet with your slick and his precum.
“There ya are.” Toji hums, the image of you choking on his cock while you struggle to take Satoru’s making his head absolutely spin. He can’t stop himself from leaning down and kissing hotly down your spine, making you buck and gag deeper around his dick. In the haze of it all, he catches Satoru’s amused gaze. Spitting out, “What?”
“Softie.”
“Oh, shut up. You can’t even handle her pussy.”
And Satoru took that personally, because he’s reeling his hips back, back, back - all the way till his angry, weeping tip just kissed you sloppy holes. “M’gonna show you, softie.” Body moving before his mind, he starts fucking into your pretty cunt recklessly. Hands groping all over your body possessively, hips moving in rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and the urge to ruin you. Over and over-
Toji only smiles at the little show, your garbled whines every time Satoru hits your poor cervix going straight to his cock - quite literally. And if he angled his head just right, he could see the way your cute cunt was stretching obscenely. Barely-lucidly, he wonders whether your throat would bulge around his just as much.
He taps your cheek, signaling you to blink those pretty eyes so tearily up at him. Balls squeezing painfully, he really can’t help but pump his cock into you faster, matching Satoru’s merciless cadence - ruining you from both sloppy holes. “Sorry, doll. Gotta big ego, so we can’t be outdone, now, can we?”
And then it’s like something snaps because suddenly every movement becomes sloppier, more erratic. Toji’s got a hand around your throat, feeling each thrust as he ruins your gorgeous face. Abs flexing each time he drags your lips on his cock up and down up and down up and- like some toy.
Satoru wasn’t any nicer either - becoming so fucking messy as he fucks you from behind like he was claiming his win. Faster, sloppier.
Biting his lip at the way your ass jiggles each time his hips snap into yours. Pulling you back by the hair to bounce you like some little slut from both ends. And, maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have said something about the way they were using you like their favorite fucktoy - but right now you were so close. Dangerously close. It was too much.
And they probably feel it because suddenly Toji’s leaning down, murmuring hotly against your ear, “S- fuck. Ngh- Close?”
“Fuck, I can feel it too.” Satoru voices from behind, so hoarse with desire, “Suckin’ me up so hah- t-tight it’s almost hard to fuck her.” It’s his cue to reach down deftly and start toying with your ravaged clit, still so sensitive and sore from before. Drawing erratic little circles on it, pinching with his fingers.
You’re letting out throaty, muffled moans of their names, making Toji’s hips stutter. Holding you still as his aching balls smack your ass. “Hngh- shit. Keep doin’ that, brat, this one here loves it.”
“What did I tell ya? S’like this pussy’s made f’me.”
And if they couldn’t feel it then they certainly could see it. They could see the way you were getting messier, pussy dripping all over the carseat now. Mascara running down your face, saliva and precum trailing down your chin. Honestly, it was fucking hard to look at you without cumming right there, too. Because you looked completely and utterly fucked out. So close that it was almost painful.
Maybe that’s why both men speed up their pace impossibly, no reason or rhyme. You feel a wolfish bite on your exposed neck - Satoru - fingers frenzied on your clit, thrusts stemming from such a carnal, depraved part of him. Falling out of sync with Toji as they get so sloppy with the goal to get you off - and get you off so hard that you can’t think about anything but them, them, them-
“Cum, doll.”
This orgasm is more obscene than the last. Far more. Because you honestly don’t even realize you’re cumming, not until you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and feeling Satoru and Toji slamming harshly into you. Once. Twice. Before spilling into you in unison.
And it’s so much that you don’t even know if you can take it.
Toji’s salty on your tongue, pumping thick, hot ropes of tongue into your mouth. Pulling out purposefully like the smug bastard he is to see his seed all messy and dribbling down your face. While Satoru’s much the opposite, keeping his twitching cock stuffed into your tight pussy while he paints your walls white. Not letting you waste a single drop.
But oh he didn’t mind when you finally pull yourself off of Toji’s dick. Cum smearing so sloppily all over your face, and shit he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked prettier.
And Satoru really doesn’t mind when you look back and pull him into a kiss - Toji, too. If you can even call it that, a messy clash of teeth and tongue and cum. So much of it. Swirling and sucking on your tongue, bumping into each other. Just pure fucking filth.
It gets Satoru’s dick so hard and throbbing all over again at how obscene it all was. Some weird little part of him is almost disappointed as Toji breaks the kiss - but not for long. Because his superior shifts, splaying himself out beneath you, while he pulls your limp body on top.
Ah. Great minds really do think alike, he thinks as Toji drags his tip lazily all over your cunt. Pooling your juices on his fat head, grazing your poor, abused clit to where your sloppy pussy was quivering and still stuffed full of Satoru’s cock. Well, not like you didn’t have room for one more. Right?
It’s all you can do to babble deliriously, “W-wha-”
“Shhh, doll. We’ll take care of it.”
“After all, sweetheart, you did say you’d be our good girl…”
A/N. This got taken down the first time I posted it LMAO.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#tonywrites#toji x reader#toji smut#toji x you#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro smut
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Breaking Point
Summary : You and Bucky had always hated each other. When Bucky gets injured during a mission, you start wondering if the hatred was just masking something else.
Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her)
Warnings/tags : Enemies to Lovers and Confessions! Fluff. Hurt/comfort. Past trauma. Cursing. Violence. Injury. A bit of Jealous!Bucky.
Requested by : @beansprout713
Word count : 4.8k
Note : Enemies to Lovers will always be so good to write about. Thank you for requesting this! Enjoy!
Requests are open!
You adjusted your coat, clutching your purse as you strolled back toward the Avengers compound after your date. Your head hung low from the frankly underwhelming night you shared with Ryan, a guy you’d met through a mutual friend.
Ryan was a librarian. He was perfectly fine, perfectly handsome, perfectly polite. But you weren’t looking for perfect. You sighed.
He talked about his job, about how a group of school kids making noise had been annoying him. When he asked about yours, you shifted in your seat with unease. You can’t really tell the whole truth. What would that even sound like?
Oh, I went on a mission last week and shot a guy. Don't worry, he was a bad guy.
You would’ve sounded ridiculous.
In the end, Ryan was just another normal person. He couldn’t keep up with you, with your life, being an avenger. With this line of work, you wondered if you’d ever find love.
You were halfway up the steps to the entrance when you saw him.
Bucky Barnes stood by the doors, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His blue eyes locked on you as soon as you came into his view. The outdoor light cast long shadows across his face, strengthening the sharpness of his features.
Bucky watched you walked up the steps. He clenched his jaw, forcing down the aching swirl inside him. It was easier to push you away, to let the sharp edges of his words do the damage before you could get any closer, even if he could not deny how beautiful you were underneath the dark glow of the night sky. His gut twisted, knowing you put in all this effort for some half-decent guy who could never give you enough, not that you needed to put any effort at all. He shook his thoughts away, eyes narrowing.
Great, you thought. The last thing you needed tonight was to deal with his brooding attitude. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for whatever sharp remark he was about to throw your way.
Bucky stepped closer, his chest only inches from yours now, and the proximity sent a jolt of heat through you. His gaze flickered down to your lips for the briefest second before he met your eyes again.
"Out late, aren’t we?" His voice was low.
You rolled your eyes, brushing past him as you opened the door to the compound. "It's called having a life, Barnes. You should try it sometime."
He followed you inside, his boots heavy against the floor. "A life, huh?" He scoffed, his tone harsher than usual. “That’s what you call having dinner with some guy who won’t last longer than a week?" His voice was low, almost a growl, but there was something else behind it—something you couldn't quite identify. His eyes didn’t leave yours, and the air between you crackled with a tension you had always felt with him.
You swallowed hard. "Why do you care who I spend my nights with?" you replied, your voice shakier than you intended.
His jaw clenched. "Maybe I care because none of those guys know what you really need." His voice was gravelly, and the implication in his words made your stomach flip. For a second, you couldn’t breathe.
You quickly brushed his words. "And you think you do?" you shot back, but your voice faltered.
Bucky left the question open, not knowing how to respond. Instead, he did what he always does best. He deflected. "You can’t keep a boyfriend because you’re too brash. Too loud."
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You swallowed hard, the pain twisting in your chest as his words echoed in your mind. He always had a way of cutting deep, but this was different. Calling out your coping mechanisms seemed too low, even for Bucky.
"Wow." Your voice wavered slightly, but you quickly steadied it, refusing to let him see just how much he affected you. "You really know how to hit where it hurts, don’t you?"
Bucky didn’t respond. For a second, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes—regret, maybe. But he didn’t apologise. Instead, he turned away, his metal arm flexing at his side.
"Just go to bed," he muttered, almost condescending except for the hint of softness in his voice. "I need you well rested for the mission tomorrow."
As much as you and Bucky outwardly despised each other, the two of you were surprisingly effective partners in the field. Again and again, you found yourselves paired together. You never complained, though. There was an undeniable intimacy in your partnership that you craved, even if Bucky hated your guts.
"Is this really about the mission?” Your anger bubbled to the surface.
His hand shot out suddenly, gripping your wrist—not hard, but firm enough to stop you from moving too far past him. His metal fingers were cool against your skin, his blue eyes alight with frustration. "It’s about you not taking things seriously.” He said, almost sneering. “Instead of preparing your gear, you're off with some random guy. Do you even care?"
Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Not in front of him.
"I care more than you think, Bucky," you said quietly, pulling your arm away from his grip. "But you don’t get to talk to me like that. You don’t know why I am the way I am."
Bucky’s expression softened slightly. He opened his mouth to say something, but then quickly snapped it shut, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak. The truth was, he’d been watching you for months. Not just on missions, but in moments like these, when you thought you were alone. You wore your confidence like armour, but sometimes, when you let it slip, he caught glimpses of something deeper. Something that made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way he did, whatever that feeling was. Whatever the racing heart in his chest meant. Whatever the butterflies in his stomach meant.
But he couldn’t let himself go there.
The silence between you was unbearable, and finally, you turned away.
"Let’s just get through tomorrow without killing each other, okay?" you muttered. Without waiting for his response, you walked away, leaving him standing alone..
Why did he always do this?
He didn’t know half of what you carried. Didn’t know what it was like to lose—to build your walls higher every time someone left, because that was the only way to survive.
Or maybe he knew too much of what it was like.
You spent your life keeping people at arm's length. Dates were fine. Fun. Superficial. They didn't ask for more than you were willing to give. You could smile, laugh, let your guard down just enough to feel normal, but never enough to let anyone in.
Bucky—he was too close. He saw too much. He could cut through the walls with one sentence, and it scared you.
As you made your way back to your bedroom, part of you wondered—what would happen if you let him in?
What a stupid thought.
—
The next morning, the air between you and Bucky was still cold, your argument from the night before hanging in the air like a hurricane. You were briefed on the mission, but you barely paid attention. Your mind was still reeling from the sting of Bucky’s words. And you hated that he had the power to make you feel this way.
In the quinjet, silence filled the space between you, making the air feel too thick and heavy to breathe. Bucky sat across from you, his gaze fixed on the floor, his hands resting on his knees. You stole a glance at him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched tight, and for a second, something flickered in his eyes as he glanced at you. Regret, maybe?
“Look," you muttered, breaking the silence. "About last night—"
“Don’t," he cut in, his voice low but firm. "Let’s focus on the mission."
You swallowed, biting back whatever words had been forming. He didn’t want to talk about it. Fine.
The knot in your chest tightened. You wanted to tell him—wanted to say something to bridge the gap between you, but the walls were still there, and neither of you was ready to break them down.
—
The mission was supposed to be simple. You and Bucky had done this a hundred times—get in, gather intel, get out. He was the shadow, slipping in unnoticed, while you were the distraction, loud and violent, drawing the guards’ fire away.
You took point, leading the guards away with your usual brashness. Something that Bucky criticized you for.
You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you, tracking your every movement. Most of the time, his gaze felt like scrutiny, like he was waiting for you to mess up. But today there was something else. Protectiveness, perhaps?
As you manoeuvred through the base, you split up. You were supposed to patrol the halls, distract any guards, draw fire from Bucky to you. Bucky was supposed to secure the intel. You stopped in the centre, where you were supposed to wait for communications right about now.
Where is he? you thought, scanning for Bucky, but he was nowhere to be seen. He was supposed to signal once he’d reached the server room. But the silence on the comms was making you nervous.
Your instincts kicked in, as you heard more guards coming from your left.
You cursed, ready for confrontation.
You felt exposed, vulnerable. Normally, you could feel his presence. But now, something was different. The usual synchrony between you two felt… off.
Suddenly, the footsteps halted as gunfire erupted in the distance, shattering the uneasy quiet. Your heart raced. That wasn’t part of the plan. Bucky wasn’t supposed to engage until he had the data. The sound of gunshots rang in your ears, echoing in the corridors of the enemy base.
“Barnes, what the hell’s going on?” you hissed into the comms, trying to keep your voice steady. No response.
Your breath hitched. Something was wrong. Your steps quickened, your pulse pounding in your ears. The sound of shouting and footsteps grew closer. Where the hell is he?
You ran towards where Bucky was supposed to be. Rounding a corner, suddenly a gunshot rang out—close. Too close.
A sharp pain seared across your side as you dove for cover behind a stack of crates. You cursed under your breath, pressing your hand to the wound. Blood oozed through your fingers. The bullet had grazed you, which was survivable, but the sting was enough to remind you just how dangerous this was becoming.
You shot your attacker with your last bullet, bullseye on the center of their forehead. The body went stiff, still on the ground. Brutal. Clean. Necessary.
“Where are you, Barnes?” you muttered, your breath coming in ragged bursts, but you were only met with static from the other line. You were supposed to be the distraction, but without his backup, you felt vulnerable in a way you hadn’t felt in years.
Damn it, this isn’t working. You threw away the comms and crushed it beneath your heel.
You heard the commotion getting closer and closer, and then suddenly the gunfire stopped. Maybe Bucky had been able to disarm the enemy and was making a run for it.
You glanced over the edge of a crate. Your eyes widened, spotting the sniper hidden on the corner, by an air vent, aiming on your head. Your heart pounded, knowing you don’t have the energy to dodge another shot.
You took a deep breath, readying for impact.
Then, there was a flash of movement—Bucky!
He appeared out of nowhere, barreling toward you just as the sniper lined up his next shot.
“Move!” he shouted, his voice brimming with panic.
Before you could react, his body slammed into yours, tackling you to the ground. The breath was knocked from your lungs as you hit the ground hard, his weight pinning you down.
Bucky’s chest pressed against your back, his breath heavy in your ear as he shielded you from the line of fire. His metal arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and despite the chaos, you couldn’t ignore the heat of his body, the way it made your skin tingle. But the relief was short-lived.
The next sound you heard was a grunt of pain.
You twisted beneath him just in time to see Bucky stumble, his hand clutching his side. Blood. Too much blood. It soaked through his tactical suit, spreading rapidly as he slumped back, his face pale with pain.
“No!” The word tore from your throat as you scrambled to your feet, gently laying him on the ground before he could fall. You grabbed his arm, trying to keep him upright, but he was heavy, his body sagging against yours.
“I’m fine,” he grunted, his voice strained, but the way he leaned on you told a different story.
You felt the adrenaline surge through your body, giving you the last boost of energy you needed. You grabbed Bucky’s rifle, blindly shooting at the direction of the sniper.
You weren’t shooting clean shots anymore. You didn’t care. You didn’t stop until you saw the body fall on the floor.
You scrambled back to Bucky.
“This wasn’t part of the plan,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and fear as you pressed your hand to the wound in his side, trying to stop the bleeding. “Why didn’t you stay in position? You weren’t supposed to—”
“To what?” he rasped, wincing as he tried to move. “Let you die?”
“I had it under control!” you shot back, hough you knew it was a lie. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, but the closeness only fueled your anger. “If you had just stayed where you were—”
“You were in the open. I had to—” Bucky interrupted, his voice sharper than before, his eyes dark with frustration. His hands tapped his pocket, making sure he had the intel you came here for.
“I was doing my job, Bucky!” you shouted, your grip tightening on his arm. The fear bubbling up in your chest was quickly being overtaken by anger, the unresolved tension from last night’s fight bleeding into the moment. “But you—damn it, why do you always have to make everything harder than it is?!”
His eyes met yours, blazing with frustration. “I’m the one keeping you alive!” he growled, stepping closer despite the pain radiating from his wound. “You never listen—”
“You don’t trust me!” you accused him, your voice shaking when you noticed the bleeding wasn’t slowing. Did it hit an artery? “and now you’re hurt because you had to play the hero!”
His jaw clenched, his hand gripping your arm tightly as he struggled to stay upright. “I don’t—” He stopped, his voice catching as the weight of your words sank in. His eyes flickered with something that made your heart twist. “I don’t want to lose you.”
The confession was so quiet, so raw, that it hit you harder than any bullet could have.
Your anger faltered, the heat of the moment cooling as you stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. “Bucky…” you started, but the words died on your lips.
Soon, you heard hostile footsteps growing louder in the distance. You didn’t have time for this. Not now.
You tore your gaze from his, focusing on the immediate task at hand—getting him out of here.
You supported Bucky as best you could, half-dragging him through the enemy base toward the extraction point. His body was heavy against yours, his breaths shallow, but he still had enough strength to keep his arm around you, guiding you through the chaos.
“Stay with me, Barnes,” you muttered, your voice tight with worry as you half-ran, half-stumbled through the corridors.
Bucky groaned in response, his grip on you tightening, his weight sagging against your side. “Are you even… strong enough to carry me?” he gritted out, his voice laced with pain. There was a flicker of his usual sarcasm there, a sign he was still fighting.
You shot him a glare, even as panic clawed at your chest. There was a hint of charm in his voice this time, and you couldn’t help but smile a little. “Don’t make me regret saving your ass.”
His weight pressed heavily on your shoulders, and his blood soaked into your gear, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Every time his breathing hitched, you pushed yourself harder, refusing to let the fear of losing him take over.
—
By the time you got him back to the quinjet, Bucky was barely conscious. You worked frantically to stabilise him, your hands shaking as you hooked him up to an IV and bandaged the wound as best as you could with the limited supplies on hand.
When you finally returned to the Avengers compound, they wheeled him away to the med bay, and despite the doctors’ reassurances that he’d pull through, you refused to leave his side.
For the rest of the night, you stayed by his bedside.
Sam dropped by a couple of times, bringing you water and food you couldn’t bring yourself to touch. On his third visit, he lingered, watching you with a knowing expression. Bucky was still unconscious, the steady rhythm of the EKG was the only sound in the room as you stared at him. Your hands clutched the arms of your chair as if holding onto something solid would stop your thoughts from spiraling.
“You’ve been here a while,” Sam said softly, not wanting to disturb the stillness in the room. “You should eat something.”
He pointed at the bottle and sandwich he had brought a couple of hours ago. You nodded faintly, but your eyes didn’t leave Bucky. “I’m not hungry.”
Sam sat in the chair next to you, his gaze flicking between you and Bucky. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
"So..." he started, drawing out the word like he was testing the waters, "you finally decide to stop dancing around each other or what?"
You shot him a glare, but it lacked the amusement you usually reserved for his teasing. "Sam, not now."
"Hey, I'm just saying," Sam replied, holding his hands up in defence. "It's been months of this weird tension, and now you're sitting here like you're at the end of some romantic drama. It's about time you said something."
“Can we not do this now?" You repeated, snapping this time, though you did not mean to.
“He’s gonna be fine,” Sam reassured you quietly, now aware of your agitation, “You don’t need to sit here all night worrying.”
“I’m not…” you trailed off, realising how defensive you were being. With a sigh, you slumped back on your chair. “I… I should’ve seen the sniper sooner.”
Sam chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You know Bucky. He wasn’t about to let you take that hit, no matter what.”
You glanced at Bucky, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. You lowered your voice, scared that he would somehow hear you. “I don’t understand why he’s always like this. One minute he’s insulting me, and the next, he’s throwing himself in front of bullets for me.”
Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You matter more to him than you think.”
You scoffed quietly, not quite believing him. “He sure has a funny way of showing it.”
“Listen,” Sam said, his tone soft but firm. “Bucky… he’s complicated. He doesn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve. But the fact that you’re sitting here, all torn up over him? Makes me think his feelings aren’t one-sided.”
You looked over at Sam with visceral scepticism in your eyes.
Sam leaned forward again, his expression serious now. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching. Hell, he gets jealous of the guys you go out with.”
You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Sam’s words sink in. The argument with Bucky from the previous night echoed in your mind—his harsh words, the way he’d cut into you so deeply, as if trying to push you away. Was that really how his jealousy manifested?
Then there was today, how he’d risked his life without hesitation to save you.
“He nearly died today,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat. “Because of me.”
“He didn’t do it because he had to.” Sam shook his head. “He did it because it was you.”
You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Sam’s words settling in your chest. You had always felt the tension between you and Bucky, the unspoken something that simmered beneath the surface, but you had never let yourself fully confront it. Maybe because it was too scary to admit. Maybe because you feared that caring about someone like Bucky Barnes carried more risk than you were willing to take.
You blinked back the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t know what to do...” with all this information you had just dumped on me.
Sam smiled faintly, standing up and resting a hand on your shoulder. “Just be here when he wakes up.”
You watched as Sam walked out, leaving you alone with Bucky again. You let your eyes fall back to his sleeping form, his face still pale but peaceful. You reached out, hesitating for just a moment, before gently brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead.
—
Hours had passed before Bucky finally stirred. The room was heavy with the weight of everything that had happened, thick with the scent of blood and sweat. You sat beside him, your body drained, shoulders hunched over. Your mind stayed alert—unable to tear your focus from him for even a second.
“Bucky?” Your voice was hoarse, cracking under the pressure of everything you had witnessed, everything you had felt.
His eyelids fluttered as if fighting to lift a weight the weight of the world. For a long, quiet moment, he just stared at you, eyes cloudy and disoriented. “You’re still here,” he mumbled, his voice fragile.
“Of course, I’m still here,” you shot back, the sharpness in your tone betraying the tenderness that hid behind it. Your emotions simmered beneath the surface, threatening to overflow. His muscles tensed as he attempted to sit up, but a grimace of pain shot across his face, stopping him short. “You should’ve let me handle it,” he muttered through clenched teeth, frustration leaking into his voice. Not because he had been shot, but because it broke his heart seeing you here. You looked so weak and sleep deprived. You looked so tired, your wounds untended.
The anger that had been quietly burning inside you flared. You rose to your feet, the chair scraping the floor in the silence. Your conversation with Sam swam in the back of your mind, but old habits die hard. “Handle what, Bucky? Getting shot?”
His gaze snapped to yours, the weariness in his eyes replaced with a flash of cold steel. “Why does it matter to you if I live or die?” His voice cut through the room, louder now, tinged with a bitterness.
The question hit you like a blow, freezing you in place. Your heart pounded violently against your ribs, the truth clawing at your throat. Every wall you’d carefully constructed around yourself, every defence you had in place, crumbled in an instant. Before you could stop yourself, the words you had fought so hard to keep buried tore free.
“Because I fucking care about you!” you shouted, your voice breaking. “I care about you so much that I have to pretend I don’t just to keep myself sane! Is that what you wanted to hear?”
The air between you felt electric. Bucky’s eyes widened, the force of your confession hanging in the space between you, churning like a wave ready to break. He didn’t move, didn’t speak at first, just stared at you as if seeing something he couldn’t comprehend.
Then, after a beat that seemed to stretch into eternity, his voice came, a low, gravelly whisper that was almost lost in the silence. “You think I don’t feel the same?” His words trembled with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before.
Your breath caught, and your body stilled. Maybe Sam was right, the realisation dawned on you.
His voice was cracking under the strain of emotions he’d long suppressed, grunting as he sat up. “I push you away because it’s easier than admitting how much I—” His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists as he struggled to say what he’d buried for so long. “If I let myself feel it... if I let myself get close to you... I’ll lose you. And I can’t—” His voice faltered, breaking. “I can’t lose you.”
Your heart wrenched at his words, at the fear so raw in his voice. Slowly, you took a step toward him, your legs trembling beneath you. The distance between the two of you had never felt so vast, even though it was only a few feet. “Bucky…” The anger, the frustration—it had drained away. Your voice was softer now than it has ever been with him, gentle. You sat on the edge of the bed, facing him.
He looked up at you, and in his eyes, you saw everything you had ever felt mirrored back at you—the fear, the longing, the unspoken love that had always been there but never acknowledged.
Your breath hitched in your throat as you finally let the walls fall completely.
“It’s easier than admitting how much I—” Bucky tried again, but couldn’t finish. The words weren’t enough.
You closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, your hands reaching for him, pulling him into you, and your lips crashed against his with a force that felt like it could shatter the walls around you.
The kiss was desperate, letting go of everything you had kept at bay for so long. It was raw, unfiltered. It was an outpouring of all the feelings you had tried so hard to ignore. There was nothing but you and him, the world outside of this fading away into nothingness.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, chests rising and falling in sync, your foreheads pressed together as if you were trying to ground yourselves. The gravity of what had been revealed was too much for you to process.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was thick, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
"What is this?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What are we?”
Bucky's breath was shaky, his forehead still resting against yours as he struggled to find the right words. His hands hovered at your waist, as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold you tighter or let you go. The vulnerability in his eyes, raw and unguarded, mirrored yours.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, his voice rough and hoarse, barely audible. “But I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t mean something.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching your face as if trying to decipher your feelings, afraid of what he might find there. “You… you matter to me. More than anything or anyone.”
The honesty in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing in your ribcage. You didn’t know how to respond—your thoughts in a tangled mess.
“Bucky…” You started, unsure of where to begin, but the words just didn’t come. You reached up, cupping his face gently with your hand, brushing your thumb across the stubble on his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a shaky exhale escaping his lips.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if admitting it out loud made it more real. “I’ve lost so much. I’m scared—” He broke off.
“You’re not going to lose me,” you whispered, the words firm, even though fear still lingered in the back of your mind. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”
For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as the weight of your words settled. Bucky stared at you, pressing his forehead against yours once more, the tension in his body easing ever so slightly.
“Together,” he repeated softly.
The room was quiet again, the steady beep of the heart monitor the only sound that broke the silence. You sat there, holding each other in the stillness.
And maybe, someday soon, you’d have the courage to say what you both had wanted to say:
I love you.
-end
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x you#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky fic#catws#thunderbolts#bucky barnes fanfic#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan#sebastian stan imagine#bucky Barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes x reader angst#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#winter soldier#angst#angst with a happy ending#light angst#one shot#bucky barnes one shot
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i’d love to see your take on #15 from the prompt list: “jealous sex in the alleyway behind the bar” w logan 👀 i’m picturing logan in xmen 1 or 2 specifically 😫
have a cigar
a/n: i am such a fucking sucker for the jealousy trope. especially when he's the idiot who doesn't realize he's the only option. the best one in my opinion. but of course he's got his own hangups and his own issues. so i've thrown a bit of angst in here with the spice. enjoy darling! (the title is based off the pink floyd song which gives massive logan vibes.)
summary: everyone knows who you belong to. if the jacket you wore that left you drowning in the soft leather wasn't indication enough, then the claws attached to your guard dog certainly was.
word count: 3.3k+
pairing: logan howlett x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, possessive logan, violence, tw: blood, animalistic tendencies, cigar smoke, alcohol, harassment, spitting, exhibitionism, p in v sex, rough sex, bruising, choking, logan kinda refers to them as an object (out of love), he's literally unhinged.
The bar reeked of spilled beer and shitty cigarettes. A rock song from the seventies blasted from the speakers—crackling every time the front door was jostled open, another patron stumbling in for a night of fun. Raucous cheers erupted from the corner where four men in leather jackets had taken up residence at a pool table; each one betting higher than the other.
You were perched on a stool. A heavy brown leather jacket wrapped around your body, a half finished whiskey in front of you, and a cigar clutched in your fingers. Neither were yours.
Yet you couldn't help but sip at the drink with a happy sigh, the smoke curling down your hand with a familiar scent that twisted your inside.
For the past ten minutes, you'd been staring at the menu. Trying to discern if ordering the mini plate of nachos was worth it before Logan waltzed back in from the bathroom. He muttered about there being a fucking line due to someone locking the damn stall. But you didn't mind.
Time spent with him was worth sitting here alone.
That is until you heard the telltale familiar scratch of a stool being dragged away—someone sitting to your right with a heavy grunt.
You flinched slightly, turning your back towards them, but their knuckles were already rapping on the bartop. Demanding your attention with another grunt. You could smell the alcohol on their skin, the glaze in their blue eyes as you turned, but that isn't what sent fear curling low in your spine. It was the sleazy grin on their lips.
They wouldn't be taking no for an answer.
"What's a pretty little thing like you doin' sittin' here alone?" he slurred, eyes trailing down your form.
Suddenly wearing the simple sundress for Logan felt like an awful idea. Your stomach turned with nausea as he ogled your body without shame. To him you weren't a person. Fuck you'd be lucky if he even asked for your name before he spewed bullshit about taking you home.
The bartender eyed him with a glare, nodding his head in your direction for some affirmation of safety. He recognized you, knew Logan from the countless times he'd been here, and that left you with some peace to cling to. It wasn't much, but you grasped at it blindly. Offering an awkward smile to appease the victim of Logan's fist when he finally returned.
"I'm with someone." You hated how meek your voice sounded; how small you felt sitting here like prey.
He shrugged, leaning close enough for you to smell the vodka on his breath. "I won't tell if you don't babe."
Heavy boots thumped against the floor and you visibly relaxed in your seat as Logan's form filled your peripheral. He stood stiff at your side, hands curling into fists at the sight of a man practically laying across your lap. Your eyes met his, guilt bleeding into your pupil. Only for anger to fill his. His hand pressed to your back, thumb rubbing into your side softly.
"You got a problem boy?" he snapped.
The man sat up too quickly, his body swaying as he met the guard dog attached to your back. "Just talking to the lady man. Fuck off."
You sighed, feeling Logan's hand freeze. Out of all the mistakes that could be made—that remained the worst. The man had dug his own grave. Logan was merely the executioner tasked with bringing this man to his awaited appointment with death.
Who were you to stand in the way of that?
You slipped off the stool, moving with speed to get out of the way of Logan's claws. Slamming the man against the bartop, he set the blades to his throat. A snarl resonated in the place, forcing everyone to go quiet, as you watched in rapture at the sight of Logan pinning a man. Daring him to move.
He cried in pain, blood dripping from the split open wound in his forehead. But mercy wasn't something Logan gave willingly. You felt his love in the form of wrath. A weight against your chest that you sunk your teeth into with a smile.
He was willing to kill for you.
To spill blood for your lips to curve into a pleased grin.
You were breathless even thinking about it.
"Now," he growled, pressing the man down until he heard the snap of a bone. "Wanna repeat that shit to my face motherfucker?"
"N-No." The scent of copper tinged the air, laying on your tongue. "I'm—fuck—I'm sorry! I didn't know she was yours man."
He lowered his face, nostrils flaring at the scent of blood permeating the air. "Touch her again and it's your arm."
Nodding frantically, you watched as the man practically slid to the floor in a mess of tears. Part of you wanted to feel bad for him. A pathetic soul who couldn't find joy unless it was preying on others. Logan's hand wrapping around the back of your neck is what killed those feelings with a swift slice of an axe. The heat of his touch became an anchor against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.
Sick, twisted, inhumane. You attempted to label the feelings that catapulted right into your chest at the sight of Logan's red stained fist. There had to be an explanation in the back of your mind. A missing piece as to why you felt such exhilaration in the face of violence.
"Motherfucker," he muttered under his breath, slamming the back door open with his foot, his fingers digging a bit deeper. "Thinks he can take what's mine."
Oh. You liked that.
The click of his lighter and spark of a flame illuminated the shadow of possession that lingered on his face. His eyes watched you, trailed down the form of your body beneath his oversized leather jacket. The soft echo of love was swapped out for something tenebrous—something raw.
"C'mere." He spoke the word as if his hand wasn't still around your neck, leading you into his vicinity.
You stumbled over your own feet, eyes wide with the type of veneration he felt slam into his chest. Such a pretty thing, so lovely and soft for him to caress. To call his.
Perhaps this need to claim you stemmed from an animalistic urge he should have tamped down. He knew he looked like an asshole back in the bar, knew that you weren't a fan of when he got his fists dirty. But the need to sink his teeth into the side of your neck until blood poured into his mouth overtook him on his worst days.
It was fucked to even think about. Harming you, marking you, all to make sure that drunken idiots knew to keep their hands to themselves.
That thought alone was enough to make him feel a hint of disgust over his own fantasies.
Until he smelled it.
Cigar smoke unfurled from his mouth, curling low and falling across your face with a soft brush of air. Your eyes fluttered from the scent, mouth filling with saliva at the thought of him blowing it between your parted lips. All you had to do was ask him—place your hands on his cheeks and press your lips to his. He certainly wouldn't be against kissing you.
But something darker swirled to life in your chest. A hidden truth you felt far too ashamed to reveal that you started to tuck away in the back of your mind.
That didn't stop your scent from growing thick in the air, filling his nose with the sharp tang of your sweetness. He could practically taste it on the tip of his tongue. The ache to see it for himself nearly overwhelmed his body.
Something shifted in the time it took for the both of you to get outside away from the prying eyes inside the bar. Everyone knew you were Logan's. That became clear the second his jacket draped your shoulders—his hand a permanent fixture on your hip as he saw with you at the bar. But seeing him confirm a truth already known.
The spillage of blood was a small price to pay to set his words into stone for those to read. Logan was prepared to do far more than that; the need to bend you over the bar and make you cry those pretty little tears only meant for him growing each time you came here.
"Logan," you murmured, eyes half lidded with lust.
"Yeah you liked that huh sugar."
"I–" What could you say to him? I loved seeing you claim me like an animal in front of everyone. That alone felt too fucking embarrassing to admit out loud.
His thumb pressed into the back of your skull, releasing what tension built up. Moaning softly, you curled your body into his, eyes fluttering shut as he massaged that spot until you purred. You were so pliable under his hold, willing to leap when he said the word, and Logan could feel his cock throb at the sight.
His pretty girl.
"Liked seeing me beat a man cause he touched you." Lips curled into a smirk around his cigar when your mouth parted, breaths coming in harder than before. "You'd let me fuck in front of all of 'em wouldn't ya. Just to show them you're mine."
You went lightheaded, slick pouring out of you, as a soft whine broke through the still night air. Something snapped in your mind at the thought—images of Logan pulling your skirt up and fingering you at the bar. Thoughts of him settling you on his lap to cockwarm him as he smoked his cigar at a table. Entirely at ease with the thought of everyone seeing you leak around him.
They all curled low in your belly, cracking open the door of desires you kept locked shut. Pandora's box was finally about to be pried open and yet all you could think about was his eagerness to show off what belonged to him.
Use me. Mark me. Take me however you want to.
Saying them with a shaky voice and shot nerves would do nothing for that unfathomable throbbing between your legs.
Not when he could see it written across your face with a clarity that should have scared you.
"You're my fuckin' filthy girl aren't ya," he muttered, drawing you close enough to taste the cigar smoke off his lips.
"Uh-huh." The dazed lilt of your words made him smile.
So needy for him even in the proximity of a disgusting alleyway in the back of a bar. How could he resist such sweetness?
His hand moved, closing around your throat, as he plucked the cigar from his lips. "Here's what I'm gonna do sugar." Your open mouth gave him enough leeway to blow the remainder of his smoke past your lips—forcing a gasp past your throat. "'M gonna fuck you right here. And I want you to make them hear it."
"A-Are you sure?"
He smiled, pushing you towards the wall and stubbing his cigar out on the brick. "What? Don't you wanna set those fuckers right?"
Nodding, you let him tug up the hem of your skirt of your dress, fingers delving beneath the lace panties you wore specially for him. With a groan, his eyes fell shut at the feel of you dripping so messily for him. Leaking across his hand even before he pressed the rough calloused pads to your clit—drawing a soft cry from your mouth.
"You get this wet watching me sugar?" he grunted against your cheek, mouth hovering right where you wanted him. "Poor thing. Didn't mean to make ya wait."
"Oh fuck," you gasped, fingers curling into his flannel. "L-Loved seeing you Logan."
He chuckled—degrading yet filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "I should fight in front of you more often. Get you nice and ready for me to fuck you whenever I want."
Whatever response you might have been able to form died in the back of your throat. A choking garbled moan of his name pierced the air when two fingers plunged into you knuckle deep. Curling roughly at your walls with a determined flare. This wasn't him trying to get you off. This was him proving he could.
"You hear that? She's singin' for me baby." The wet squelch of his fingers pounding into you left heat blooming beneath your cheeks and down your chest. "Beggin' for my cock."
"Need it Logan–"
A hand hiked your leg up to curl around his hip, lips finally slotting against yours with a stunted groan. Any coherent thoughts you might have had died with his tongue. He licked into you as if he was looking for something. Claimed your mouth with harsh moans and deep hot strokes against the roof of your mouth.
"I'll give it to you," he bit off, sucking your tongue into his mouth until you trembled in his hold.
He was everywhere. Pulling his fingers free and swallowing your whimper, he hoisted you up and shoved you against the wall so hard your back hurt. The pain quickly dwindled into a dull ache when the familiar clink of his belt buckle hit your ears.
Swallowing his harsh growl, you canted your hips against his. The growing heat in your body fanned into a fire you could no longer ignore; his touch echoing with the embers of something disastrous.
You knew you craved him, but this felt like a baseline urge your body couldn't give up. Some neolithic part of your brain that got off on being protected, possessed.
"You've got no idea how badly I wanna give it to ya," he muttered, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. "Gonna drive me fuckin' insane."
"Yes." The word felt diminutive compared to his, but everything else tapered off into garbled moans of his name.
"Already beggin' and I haven't even started." He smiled cruelly, cock sliding through your slickened pussy with a stuttered grunt.
If you were standing, your knees would have buckled. Even now they locked against his waist to keep him from pulling away. Secrets scratched at the nearly open door as he lined himself, fisting his cock with bared teeth and a throaty growl. There became no use in keeping them at bay. Not when Logan shared the fantasy in his own mind—playing it out like a film projected on your heart.
His hand slapped against the brick wall beside your head, the other snuggly resting at your throat. The flutter of your heart pulsed beneath the vein on your neck, directly along the jugular he often nipped and sucked at. The pad of his thumb pressed down against it—tongue swiping at his bottom lip when you moaned. Broken, pitched high enough to bounce off the alleyway walls.
"So pretty when you're needy." His lips caught yours, spit a glossy smear on your chin. "Can't even think straight without it."
You wanted to agree, to tell him you were nothing if you weren't his.
With a snarl pressed into your mouth he sunk into your pussy in one thrust and your mind went numb. You sagged against the wall, a splintered cry resonating in the air when he bottomed out. Your name a harsh groan—his neck strained and eyes squeezed tight.
"Logan," you sobbed loud enough for it to echo back into the bar. You could practically see them sitting there. Eyes wide and they fought the urge to get off to the sound of Logan fucking you within an inch of your life.
Nails scratched along his clothed shoulders in a desperate attempt at getting him closer when he began to pound into you. Hips slapped against yours with each roll of his hips, his hand slowly tightening around your throat. Even now you stared at him with wonder in your eyes. The glimmer he adored finding its way back into your iris as you admired how he looked.
The way his teeth grit together, nostrils flaring as your scent all but drowned him. He was a mythological being who'd come to declare that you had always been his. That this was merely an act of fate; the strings drawing you two together so tight it cut through your skin and bled you dry.
The hand on your throat shifted higher, prying open your mouth. "C'mon baby. Let 'em know who you belong to."
A ragged moan ripped free from the shackles of your chest, your eyes rolling back as his cock brushed against raw bliss. He smiled, forehead pressed to yours and hips shifting to keep the angle. Even when you began to cry loud enough to alert people on the streets Logan refused to give you a chance to breathe.
This wasn't the man you came with. This was the animal buried deep within his heart; the Wolverine snapping at anyone who dared to come near his other half.
"That's it," he bit out. "You gonna be a good fuckin' girl and cum for me?"
"Mm-hm."
He panted against your lips, tongue licking behind your front teeth. "Can feel her chokin' my cock."
You couldn't breathe. Each thrust sent what little air you had out of your lungs in small breathy whines. He fucked into you with abandon until you swore you felt him in your throat—the echo of skin against skin and the scrape of his boots on gravel when he shifted you higher became your gravity.
With a sharp intake of breath, he dropped his hand from the wall to cup your ass. Swiftly dropping you on his cock to force a scream from your mouth. It clawed up your chest, that familiar aching pull in your torso. The burn you clung to as he tipped your head back and messily spit into your open mouth. You swallowed it with a moan, thighs clenching around his hips.
"That's it," he rumbled, thumb finding your pulsing clit with ease. "Give it to me, yeah? Make a fuckin' mess on it."
A harsh thrust sent your head flying to the back of the wall. Logan was quick to slam his hand behind you, giving you a cushion to stop from severely hurting yourself. His mouth sought out yours with a mumble of your name, hips grinding deep as you came apart with a broken shout.
Bliss tore through every nerve in your body; your pussy now coating his throbbing cock in a fresh wave of slick. Logan moaned high and desperate against your tongue, following you quickly. Neither of you could tell if it was from the adrenaline of the fight or taking you out in the open, but he wouldn't stop coming.
"F-Fuck." He gasped, eyes rolling back as his head tipped. He filled you so much you could feel it leaking out, dripping down your thighs and coating the front of his jeans.
A nasty thought of dropping to your knees and licking the fabric clean filled your head—your walls spasming around him hard enough to make him hiss in pain. You quickly stored it away for later. When the feeling eventually returned to your legs.
"I think they know not to touch what's mine now," he mumbled, stealing a chaste kiss as he rubbed a soothing shape in your hip.
"Logan." He cupped your chin, lips curling into a dopey smile that bled warmth into your chest. "Take me home?"
His nose nudged yours in an act so gentle you nearly forgot how he fucked you a minute prior. "Sure thing sweetheart. Kiss?"
You grinned, eyes still shimmering with that love-struck awe; he felt it clench around his heart. "Well come here baby."
In the dark of the alley his lips found yours, sealing the deal of fate with the fulfillment of a life spent in each other's arms.
#logan howlett x f!reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett smut#logan howlett#my writing
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MDNI! word count: 890
Nerd!Aemond who is shameless when he eats you out in the corner of the library, his head buried under your short skirt and between your thighs while he sucks on your clit.
He is patient with how he drags the tip of his pink skillful tongue between your wet folds, soft thin lips closing around the bundle of nerves before he makes a delicious suction on them, making you bite on the sleeve of the hoodie you stole from him today.
You push your hips up, hand reaching down to tangle in his neatly brushed and tied hair, pushing him further into your eager pussy, and he doesn’t back away from it. Quite the opposite in fact, he dives down more, smothering his face with the scent and taste of your wetness, his stupid rectangle-shaped glasses digging into the flesh of your thighs.
You moan as he tightens his grip around you, pulling you on the edge of the table so he can have better access to your aching cunt. Aemond opens his good eye, dragging his gaze from your pelvis up to your flustered face while he opens his mouth to bite on your mound, relishing how you squeal and throw your head back, one hand coming down on the table harshly.
Your eyes widen at the loud sound you made, but Aemond seems unbothered as he places your legs on his broad shoulders pulling you impossibly closer before he brings his hand down to your pussy lips, humming at the sight of your hole clenching and unclenching around nothing.
You look down at him; lips parted, breathless and worried about getting caught, but you don’t wish to stop him at all. Not when his glorious chin is glistening with your juices, his bright blue eyes shine with mischief even from behind the fog on his glasses.
“Stop staring!” You hiss at him, biting your bottom lip when his eye meets yours, a huge grin forming on his face as he slowly circles your entrance with his pointer finger.
“Why?” He asks, resting his head on your inner thigh while you reach to play with his hair, caressing his forehead while he wraps his arms around your waist, “I’m simply worshiping my dumb girl.”
“I’m not dumb!” You flick his forehead, whispering angrily at him, “Not everyone can get these stupid chemistry questions right like you!”
“That’s why we are here, to study,” he smirks, leaning down to prep your inner thigh with kisses, sucking and biting a path leading to your weeping cunt, “But you were dumb enough to fall into my trap, baby.”
“It’s not my fault you look stupidly handsome and can make a puddle out of me with your words,” you groan, closing your eyes and pressing your lips into a thin line as soon as he brings his finger to your hole, “You’re a fucking dick, you promised you’ll help me study!”
“What can I say? All this academic stress should be relieved somehow, right?” He whispers against your cunt, pushing a digit inside, sucking on your clit while he stares at your twisted face, “Otherwise I can’t help you pass your exam.”
No more words are exchanged and he shifts his focus on the task at hand, closing his eye before he pushes his nose against your nerves, thrusting his finger in and out of you slowly.
Moans are threatening to spill out of your mouth as soon as he adds another finger, curling them immediately as he fucks you with them at a fast pace, making a filthy lewd sound echo in the quiet library.
The feeling of his tongue lapping at your throbbing clit and his fingers massaging your sweet spot is enough to make your legs shake. You arch your back, one hand slapping against your lips and the other holding you up while you wrap your thighs around his head, locking him between your legs as you gush over his face, coating him in your juices.
“Hmmm,” he gives your clit one last kiss before he rests his chin on your lower belly, looking up at you with a shit-eating grin as he pulls his fingers out slowly, “Sweet as ever, my star pupil.” “I—”
“Targaryen!”
Your eyes widen, and you jump down from the desk, fixing your skirt as best as possible before sitting next to Aemond, crossing your legs as one of the Library ladies steps in your aisle.
“Keep quiet!” She hisses at Aemond, and he nods and smiles, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin he pulled out from your bag, watching as she gives the two of you a pointed look before leaving you alone once more.
“That was so fucking close, Aemond!” you slap his shoulder, still breathless and flustered by your mind-blowing orgasm, “Academic stress my ass, we were nearly caught!”
“Fuckin’ hell, come here,” he grabs you by the nape of your neck, bringing you close until he can press his lips to yours, “I needed an energy boost before I could sit here for hours and try to teach you how biochem works.”
“I thought we were studying chemistry!” You gasp, looking at the wrong books you have brought with you.
“My dumb star pupil,” he chuckles lowly, grabbing your hand before you can pinch him.
“Asshole!”
#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#rue writes✍️#aemond x reader#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond fic#aemond smut#aemond drabble#aemond x you#aemond fanfiction#ewan mitchell x reader#nerd!aemond
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bllk boys who love to share : ̗̀➛
BLUE LOCK BOYS x f!reader
contents. threesomes, dacryphilia, overstimulation, handjob, pussy-eating
ft. bachira, isagi, ness, kaiser, sae, shidou
BACHIRA when isagi accidentally walks in
with bachira’s back towards the door, he wasn’t able to sense his best friend nearing the entrance. he was too focussed on pinning you down beneath him, interlocking your fingers with his as he pounded into your sloppy cunt to notice the door casually being opened. when you kept shooting flustered glances over bachira’s shoulder, that’s when he finally realised that your eyes were on someone else. and although he was extremely hurt at first, all of his worries washed away when he realised that it was just his friend, isagi— standing there, frozen, his face flushing as his pants got tighter. bachira trusted isagi with his whole life, so of course he would have been okay for isagi to join in on the fun.
bachira now had you sat upon his lap while he leaned against the fluffy pillows of the bed, gently shifting your hips up and down so he could still press his cock further into your pussy. knelt in front of you was isagi, trying to keep his composure while you gave him a hand job, one of his palms shielding his blushing face. his knees were shaking a little against the covers, but he remained high on his knees, even hitching his shirt up a little to reveal his tensed abs, also giving you more room to jerk him off.
“you can look at her if you want, isagi.” bachira smirks as he rests his cheek against the crook of your neck, his eyes gazing up at his best friend. he noticed how isagi seemed to either look over at the wall or down at your hands, but never your face. “she’s really helping you out! the least you can do is look her in the eye.”
NESS letting kaiser have fun with his gf
you were lying against the pillows of the bed, your legs spread wide with kaiser’s face between them as ness sat by your side and ran his fingers gently through your hair. kaiser had made constant advancements towards you behind ness’ back, thinking that if he knew, he’d be judged to shreds. however, he was pleased to hear that ness wasn’t only accepting of kaiser’s behaviour, but also more than willing to allow him to please you. he was practically begging kaiser to sleep with you, not wanting kaiser to dislike him in any way— and if sharing you prevented that, he was more than happy to oblige.
you let out whimpery moans as kaiser’s wet tongue licked another line up between the folds of your pussy before dipping back between them and working shamelessly at your clit. your heart was thumping faster as you squeezed your eyes shut, the only thing keeping you from letting out even louder moans was ness’s comforting hands, which moved to cup the side of your face as he looked at you lovingly.
“she’s so pretty when she moans.” ness smiled blissfully before turning his head to watch ness at work, his eyes sparkling with amazement. “there really is nothing you can’t do! you’re so talented, my girlfriend looks so satisfied!” he gushed before placing a kiss on the side of your neck beneath your jaw, grinning against your skin. “tell him how good you feel, darling. kaiser’s doing a great job, isn’t he?” ness whispered darkly into your ear.
SHIDOU showing sae how it’s done
you were sexually frustrated, shidou could see that. you never usually got a chance to have sex with your boyfriend, sae, and even when you did, it was always missionary. i mean, you always finished in the end, but there was no imagination. that’s why when shidou overheard you complaining to sae about not being experimental enough in the bedroom, he immediately butted in and insisted he show sae how to make you literally shake with pleasure.
that’s how you ended up with your arms tied to the post of sae’s bed, your legs being forced open by shidou as he pumped his cock into you while holding a vibrator up to your clit. your eyes were swelling with tears as you felt your entire body tense up, the only gentle feeling you could sense coming from your boyfriend’s warm touch as he held his palm against your cheek. “she’s actually crying, you’ve outdone yourself,” sae uttered coldly as his thumb drew over your skip to wipe the tears from the corner of your eyes.
“instead of just caressing her face, why don’t you be a dear ‘n hold her legs open instead? she’s tryin’ go close them, see?” shidou chuckled darkly, to which sae rolled his eyes before positioning himself to force your legs even further apart. shidou couldn’t help but be amused as he looked between you and your boyfriend. “don’t sass me, darling,” he grinned at sae, “you should take notes. your girlfriend’s clearly enjoyin’ it.”
#blue lock x you#blue lock smut#blue lock x reader#blue lock bachira#blue lock isagi#bllk bachira#bllk fluff#bllk imagines#bllk isagi#bllk x you#bllk x reader#bllk smut#bllk#isagi smut#isagi x you#isagi yoichi#blue lock meguru bachira#bachira meguru x reader#bachira meguru#bllk kaiser#michael kaiser#kaiser x reader#alexis ness x you#alexis ness x reader#shidou ryusei#sae itoshi#sae itoshi x reader smut
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Baby O Baby (m)
synopsis. Is it really a little happy accident?
warnings. ëxplïcït sèx, ünprôtèctèd sèx, bábytráppïng, cúmmïng insïde, fèm!rèàder, rèplácïng bïrth côntrôl w/ô cônsènt, cóarcátïôn, 18+ smút, kïssïng, prôfánïty, ábôrtíön, mânïpülátïôn.
note. tc jk in a modern universe HAHAHA. shouto’s ver on my anime blog, check it out. please talk to this new jk and SHARE FEEDBACK.
smut below MDNI.
No no no no.
You hadn’t realised that a tear escaped your eye, your blurry gaze was focused on your shaky hand. The white blue stick in your hand trembled. “N-No..” you could barely whisper. Your legs felt wobbly all of a sudden, the two bright red straight lines was all you could focus on.
You were pregnant.
You couldn’t believe this, horror filled your eyes as you kept staring, the longer you stared, the more suffocated you were beginning to feel. The large grey bathroom felt like a small cave, your mouth trembled as you inhaled a shaky breath in, “fuck fuck fuck!!” You cried, finally letting it out, the bile that rose up to your throat almost made you want to throw up again.
How could you not have known?
A broken cry left your mouth as you fell down to your knees, it all came rushing back to you. You tried to be careful, you had warned Jungkook, your boyfriend.
P-Please Koo… n-not inside…” you moaned out his name as the man panted breathlessly in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, the seductive feeling of his lips made you tingle. his face was nuzzled in your neck as he only thrusted harder. You heard him grunt deeply, the feeling only made your eyes almost roll back to your head as you tried your best to hold back another moan that threatened to spill from your swollen lips.
Jungkook ignored you. He was so busy, buried deep inside you as he desperately tried to chase his high, his fingers gripped onto your naked shoulders as he mewled weakly in your neck.
“Fuck baby… you feel so fuckin good, could stay buried deep inside you forever.. fuck…” his voice was rough and deep, there was a hint of desperation in his tone, the way he hit all of your weak spots made you see black dots.
He felt so good.
“Love you so fucking much, baby.. love you too much…” he pressed a kiss on your neck as you felt him loosing himself inside you.
“F-Fuck Jungkook- n-not inside p-please-ah fuck..” a sharp thrust interrupted you as you felt his hip bucking up. “C-Can’t help it baby… you feel like heaven all clenched up around me… please ‘dont wanna pull out… please Y/N… let me have completely please..”
He rocked his hips into you, the force almost making you bounce up, he was strong, undeniably so, but the way he made those shameful lewd sounds made you think otherwise. He pulled your body closer, his hair was sweaty, he had been at it for hours, making you feel exhausted almost, after almost milking you out multiple times, you felt tired.
But he was making you feel so fucking good, it was almost impossible for you to stop him.
“M’gonna fill you full of me… “‘youre mine aren’t you?” His next thrust inside your core made your toes curl, a deep grunt erupted from his throat. Your core felt like it was actually on fire, the feeling of him inside you was almost addictive,
He fit so perfectly inside you.
He rocked his hips into yours and a broken moan left you at the lewd contact of his skin into yours. Your legs unknowingly wrapped around his waist, his hands only caged you into him, locking you into place. Not giving you a moment to resist him.
Your nails dig deeper into his buffed back, his teeth bit down into your shoulders. “F-Fuck that felt so good baby please don’t stop!” He begged.
A loud whine left his lips as he began to pump his hips into yours, his rhythm was fast and brutal, you whined, your consciousness immediately shut down as he sank himself deeper inside you, a pathetic whine escaped your lips as you felt something tightening up.
“fuck baby ‘m gonna go insane if i don’t cum, gonna fuck you full of me…” that was all you heard him say as he came inside you, and the next thing you knew,
You were full of him, as he swallowed your moans by kissing you passionately on the lips.
And you were too late to realise.
Until now.
A knock interrupted your flashback as you heard a familiar voice and your heart skipped a beat, “Y-Y/N can I come in? Are you okay? Why are you crying? Please tell me what’s wrong? Sweetheart?” It was Jungkook, “Y/N you’ve been in the bathroom for so long now, You feelin’ okay, baby?” He continued, his tone was so gentle that it should’ve relaxed you,
But except it didn't. “I told you that we should go see a doctor! Y/N you haven’t been feeling well for a month! Please let’s just go!” You heard him plea to you, he beat his fist against the door again.
Until you were forced to open the door and come out.
Your head hurt, stress was building up inside you, Jungkook’s heart dropped in his chest as he saw your face, filled with hot tears. “B-Baby?” He stuttered as he pulled you into a tight hug, “what’s wrong? Are you okay?” He kissed the crown of your head as he caressed your head, in an attempt to calm your shaking body down.
“K-Koo…” you cried on your boyfriend's warmth, his big muscles flexed as he tightened his hold on you.
You were both too young to have a baby… that was all you could think of. “Yes, baby tell me, what’s wrong?” He whispered carefully, as he pressed small pecks on your hair. His scent calms you down but only for a bit as reality hits you once again.
“Y/N baby?” Jungkook deep voice called out for you, you were only 23 and he was 26…
“Jungkook I’m p-pregnant!” You choked out, tears still fresh, falling from your red eyes. As you remove yourself from his grip, you fall down to your knees, your hands cover your face, you start sobbing again.
Would jungkook leave you now?
You were busy crying when you didn’t notice a big smile taking over his face, but only for a moment as he quickly concealed it and got on his knees, on your level. “W-What?” He stuttered.
He was playing dumb with you.
Were you really telling the truth? Had Jungkook really succeeded?
His hands fell on your back as he tried to pick you up. “Baby please answer me? Are you sure?” He looked at you, a hint of hope in his eyes.
You always adored children, you would love yours too, he was sure, almost as much as loved you.
“Yes jungkook! I-I took seven tests!” You sobbed. “We’re n-not ready! Please.”
Jungkook couldn’t slip up, it was hard for him to mask his happiness, but he managed to sound shocked and confused.
He almost tsked. He was more than ready. And he knew that deep down, you were too, you were just shocked, that’s it, right?
“Jungkook! H-How is this even possible?!? I was on birth control?! I didn’t t-think much about missing my period last month, a-and I thought that the morning sickness was because of the stress of my job…” you hiccuped, Jungkook’s heart broke seeing you like that.
But in reality, this was all his plan. He wanted to get you pregnant for as long as he could remember. The first time he ever saw you, he fell head over heels for you, fast and hard.
You were beautiful, ethereal and perfect, you were a goddess that anyone would kill to have.
And that’s exactly what he did. But still, that was not enough to secure you from slipping up from him.
He couldn’t bring himself to risk losing you.
So that’s why he replaced your birth control pills with fake ones. Of course you didn’t know that.
He just couldn’t believe that he was going to be a dad and you were going to be a mommy.
If Jungkook was being honest, he’d always wanted to make you a mommy.
Oh, you would be such a great mommy… jungkook had been fantasising about this moment for so long, your belly swollen ever so beautifully with his child in your pretty womb…
Jungkook exhaled a shaky breath out as the images flashed before his eyes.
His dream finally came true.
“I-I don’t know what I’m gonna do, koo! What are w-we gonna do! We’re too young for a baby right now!” You panicked.
“I-I’m probably gonna have an abo-NO!” Jungkook’s eyes snapped open at your words, his words boomed across the large walls of his room. “I-I mean, baby relax… please think with a cool mind..” he picked your body up. You stared at him with shocked eyes.
His body felt giddy, he was so happy.
“We’re gonna figure this out together okay? Together…” he kissed your head again, as he nuzzled his nose against yours. “Don’t you worry… we’re gonna be in this… together.” He cooed.
“Baby this is our happy little accident,” he cooed again. Kissing your lips chastely and not giving you a chance to argue.
Was it really though?
The answer was simple, No.
#jungkook smut#yandere bts#yandere jjk#jjk smut#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#jungkook x yn#jungkook fanfiction#yandere smut#smut#yandere au#yandere x reader#yandere jungkook#kpop#kpop smut#jeongguk smut#bts smut#dark smut#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#Jungkook imagine#jungkook imagines#jungkook x you#bts x reader#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook smut
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Actor Bucky and actress reader
He cums accidentally while trying to hold it together during a sex scene.
Imagine a gorgeous but shy beefy Bucky nervous as hell filming an intimate scene with his co star because hes harbouring the most massive crush on her.
He in nothing but a tiny cup covering his most private parts, his perky sculpted ass barely covered by the thin sheet laid on top you both.
“You okay?” He whispers, always checking in on you, his large mass covering you entirely. You give him a shy smile, nodding, the feel of your hands moving to drape around his shoulder making him blush.
“Alright! Get ready to sell it Barnes” Tony calls out, hushing everyone before he starts rolling, signalling a thumbs up to sam to start filming “and action!!”
Bucky braces himself on his forearms keeping his body off yours, moving forward instead of actually thrusting. The lewd sounds you start to make make his hips involuntarily buck forward more than necessary and he nearly stutters.
“Oh God! Please, slow down” you cry softly, portraying your role as a shy house wife perfectly, nervous to consummate her marriage.
Bucky doesn’t think he can take your delicate pleading, his cock straining, desperate for some relief. He can feel it leaking the more you moan, his knuckles turning white gripping onto the sheets.
“So good to me” Bucky whispers back, swallowing thickly as his mind starts to wander over how you’d sound it he was actually stretching you out. Would you moan about how he was too big? Would you beg for him to keep going till he dripped right out of your sweet cunt? Would you want to lick and taste how wet he got for you, moaning over how fat and thick his dick was, worried over how you’d fit all of him inside you? His massive size carried all over, the blush on his face spreading to his neck when his erection nearly brushes against your covered core.
You blink up at him, staring into his baby blue eyes feeling his hardness press against you as it grows, nearly wetting the sheets. Your eyes are locked together and Bucky’s sure he’s not going to control himself, not when you’re looking at him like that. Not when you’re biting your lip, he could’ve sworn he felt your hips buck up, your thighs spreading slightly.
You let out a whimper, his warm breath fanning over your face and he can smell how fucking wet you are. He’s humping the air, just centimetres from where he really wants to be, fuck he wasn’t going to hold it, his balls felt tight, his cock was going to fucking burst-
“Kiss me My love” you say your final line before pulling him down for a heated kiss, letting it get more hot and heavy that the script intended. As soon as he tastes your tongue on his, he moans into your mouth, eyes rolling back, his back muscles flexed and tensed as he soaks the with his cum. He doesn’t pull away, tearing the sheets with his grip as he cums hard, his cock throbbing, till he can feel the front all warm and damp, whimpering till he’s all empty.
“AND CUT! FANTASTIC” Tony cheers, over the moon with how it turned out, “that was great and nice touch ripping the sheets Barnes, made it look real. Everyone take 5 and we’ll shoot that diner scene”
Everyone starts to pack up to get ready for the next shoot and Bucky swears he hears you let out a little giggle as you pull away, smiling at his flustered state.
“You okay, Buck?” You coo while he bites back a whine, his softening cock now sensitive and aching. Your assistant runs over to slip you into a robe, dragging you off to hair and makeup while he holds the sheet to the lower half of his body.
He grabs the robe Steve hands to him, smirking at his best friend with his head cocked to the side.
“You sure that was acting, Buck?” Steve snorts, nodding to the wet patch on the sheet while Bucky groans, grabbing it and stuffing it away before running off to his room.
“Shut up”
#actor bucky#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky fan fics#Bucky actor au#james bucky buchanan barnes#marvel au#marvel smht#Bucky barnes x actress reader#bucky barnes x f reader#bucky barnes x smht#Bucky barnes x fluff#beefy Bucky#shy beefy Bucky#beefy bucky smut#beefy bucky barnes#beefy bucky barnes fluff#beefy bucky fluff#beefy bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#beefy bucky x reader#shy bucky barnes
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Crazy Cravings
Max Verstappen x wife!Reader
Summary: pregnancy cravings can make you (and your husband) do crazy things … neither of you particularly minds
Warnings: 18+ content and pregnancy
You sit in the Red Bull Racing garage, feeling the warm Spanish sun on your face through the open door. The roar of engines and whirring of power tools surrounds you as the mechanics prepare for the race.
Your eyes are drawn to the iconic blue and silver cans scattered around the garage. Those tantalizing cans of Red Bull that everyone else seems to be drinking so casually.
Everyone except you and Max, that is.
You rub your rounded belly, feeling your precious cargo kick and squirm inside you. At six months pregnant, your cravings have been … intense, to say the least. But none more powerful than your longing for the crisp, fizzy taste of Red Bull.
The caffeine is off limits, of course. You would never dream of jeopardizing your baby’s health. But oh, how you crave that sweet, energizing flavor that used to be such a routine part of your life.
Max emerges from the back room, his bright grey eyes instantly finding you. He strides over, that effortless confidence and raw athleticism making your heart flutter, even after all these years. His gaze drifts to the Red Bull can in a mechanic’s hand and a grimace crosses his face.
“Liefje, are you alright?” He murmurs, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I know how much those are torturing you lately.”
You force a smile, not wanting him to worry. “I’m fine, Maxie. Just … ignoring the siren call of carbonated temptation.”
His thumb strokes your cheek as he studies you, clearly not convinced. Max has been so incredibly supportive during this pregnancy, abstaining from Red Bull himself in solidarity. Cutting out his biggest vice, just so you don’t have to be tormented by the sight and scent of it everywhere.
“We should get you out of here,” he says, looping an arm around your waist to help leverage your bulk out of the chair. “The smells can’t be helping those crazy cravings.”
You open your mouth to protest, not wanting to pull him away from his work, but a fresh wave of dizzying desire hits you as a mechanic cracks open another can. The fizzing hiss and unmistakable scent make your mouth water uncontrollably.
“Max ...” you whisper, feeling your throat tighten with barely restrained craving and hormonal tears prickling your eyes.
He follows your yearning gaze to the Red Bull can and understanding dawns. “Oh, liefje ...” Scooping you into his arms, he strides from the garage, shooting an apologetic look at his crew.
Once outside in the fresh air, you bury your face against Max’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar, comforting cologne as he carries you to the motorhome. He eases you onto the couch, brushing kisses along your forehead and temple.
“I’m so sorry, schatje,” he murmurs, anguish lining his handsome features. “I hate seeing you suffer like this. If there was any way I could make the cravings stop ...”
You catch his hand, lacing your fingers through his calloused ones. “Max, you know I would never actually ask you to give up Red Bull, right?”
He shakes his head fiercely. “Not being able to have it for nine months is nothing compared to your sacrifice, carrying our baby. I don’t deserve you.”
Pulling him down beside you, you cup the chiseled line of his jaw, making him meet your gaze. “I happen to think you deserve the very best, Mr. Verstappen. And right now, the very best for both of us would be ...” Your voice cracks with fresh longing. “A damn Red Bull.”
Max’s eyes blaze with sudden determination, that iron willpower that has made him a champion coming to life. “Then that’s what I’ll get you. If those tossers at Red Bull Company won’t make a safe, caffeine-free version for pregnant women, I’ll personally make them regret it.”
You laugh shakily. “Max, you can’t just bully a corporation into creating a new product line for one person’s weird craving!”
“You’re not just one person,” he growls, tangling his fingers in your hair and bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “You’re my everything. And our baby deserves for its mother to be happy and have her cravings satisfied.”
Pressing a fierce kiss to your lips, he adds, “I’m calling them right now. And then straight to the CEO, if I have to. I’ll get you that Red Bull if it’s the last thing I do.”
True to his word, the indomitable Max Verstappen spends the next several days working every possible connection and calling in every favor. You catch bits of conversations, his clipped tones making it clear just how serious he is about this bizarre quest.
“No, I don’t care if it’s not ‘cost-effective’. This is for my very pregnant wife ...”
“She’s risking her health to grow an entire person! The least your company can do is make a freaking caffeine-free energy drink ...”
The crew quickly learns not to open any Red Bull around you, lest they face the wrath of an overprotective Max. Which is slightly embarrassing … but also incredibly sweet.
Your hormones most definitely approve.
Finally, there’s a break in the stalemate. Helmut Marko himself shows up at the motor home, those bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows furrowed.
“Max, this is ridiculous. They will not reconfigure an entire product line just because Y/N is having a little … craving.”
You brace yourself for the explosion, but Max just levels Helmut with that intense stare. “If you could experience these cravings yourself, you would be singing a different tune. Y/N is sacrificing everything to have our baby. The least Red Bull can do is give her a safe option to have the flavor she misses so much.”
Helmut’s expression softens slightly at the obvious devotion in Max’s voice. “You know that corporate will never go for it. Not for just one person ...”
“Then make it for all the other pregnant women dealing with the same issues,” Max returns, unruffled. “Or is a company that plasters ‘Gives You Wings’ on every can really too cowardly to follow through on empowering people?”
You suck in a shocked breath at his daring play. But the flicker of anger and resigned capitulation in Helmut’s eyes shows that it worked.
“Fine, you little shit,” the older man growls. “I’ll talk to product development. But I’m not making any promises!”
Except somehow … Max’s sheer bullheaded tenacity eventually batters through all the corporate resistance and red tape. Three weeks later, an unmistakable bright blue can appears on the counter, the iconic Red Bull logo stamped across it.
“What’s this?” You ask in confusion.
Max slides an arm around your waist, beaming proudly. “Open it and see.”
You crack the seal, sniffing cautiously … and almost melt at the nostalgic, beloved scent of Red Bull. But just as you start to panic about caffeine, you notice the slightly different flavor.
“Max, is this ...”
He nods, grinning. “Zero caffeine but all the taste you’ve been craving. No more tears over those damn energy drink cans, okay?”
Throwing your arms around him, you yank his head down to capture his mouth in a grateful kiss. “Have I mentioned lately how incredible you are?”
“Once or twice,” he jokes, then sobers, cupping your belly. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you and our baby happy.”
“You’re giving me everything I ever wanted and more.” You take a long pull of the perfectly flavored liquid, sighing in blissful satisfaction. “We hit the jackpot with you, Max Verstappen.”
He kisses you again, reveling in your obvious enjoyment. “The only jackpot I need is right here.”
***
Your baby bump has popped out to truly impressive proportions now at eight months along. What started as an innocent craving for Red Bull has escalated into an all-out physiological war.
Nothing seems to satisfy you for long — you’re a walking bundle of hormones and insatiable desires.
From the plush solitude of the Red Bull hospitality suite, you try not to gaze wistfully toward the Ferrari encampment. But you can’t resist fixating on the tantalizing cones of rich gelato constantly streaming from their hospitality tent.
Watching a couple of Ferrari mechanics stroll by, licking at scoops of pistachio and stracciatella, is enough to kickstart a powerful new yearning. Your mouth waters shamelessly as they pass, the creamy dessert leaving you weak in the knees. Before you can overthink it, you’re shuffling toward the entrance, one hand cradling your belly.
“Scusi,” you call out hesitantly as you peek inside. “Mi dispiace … is it possible to get some gelato?”
You half expect to be waved away — it’s well known that the Ferrari team is notoriously insular and protective of their spoils. But the cheerful greeting you receive is instantaneous and overwhelming.
“Madonna mia! Look at this beautiful piccina!”
Suddenly you’re engulfed by a whirlwind of chattering Italian voices, greeted by smiling faces from the team of elderly signoras who comprise the Ferrari hospitality staff. Weathered hands pat your belly and cheeks, clucking sympathetically at your swollen state.
“You poor bambina, absolutely enorme! Of course we’ll get you some gelato to refresh you. And biscotti too! You need to keep up your energy, si?”
You’re ushered toward a plush sofa, various grandmotherly types fussing over you like you’re the most delicate, precious thing. It’s … surprisingly wonderful. They clearly adore babies and pregnant women. You get the sense that indulging a mother-to-be is hardwired into their very beings.
A tray of gelato cups appears, the rainbow of flavors almost dazzling in their variety — chocolate, pistachio, prickly pear, lemon, stracciatella. Before you can reach for one, it’s plucked from your grasp.
“No no no! Leave it to Nonna Maria.” A stout signora with a green paisley dress and frosted silver curls shakes her head sternly. “I’ll start you with the lemon to whet your appetite. Then a nice creamy stracciatella as a proper treat for the bambino.”
The tangy flavor of the lemon gelato hits your craving exquisitely. As soon as you’ve polished off that cup, Nonna Maria presents another brimming with the creamy chocolate chip perfection of stracciatella. You moan in appreciation, unbothered by the chorus of approving noises from your doting new entourage.
Before you know it, you’ve been plied with cups of hazelnut, strawberry, and caramel flavors as well. These hospitable Italian ladies simply won’t be deterred from pampering a future mamma. As you scrape the last smears of gelato from a ramekin, a new grandmother settles on the sofa beside you.
“Now ... tell Nonna Gina what this little maschietto or bambina has been craving, eh?” She pats your belly affectionately. “We have chefs who can whip up anything your heart desires!”
Is it a pregnancy thing, this sudden wave of tears that blurs your vision? Or just being so insanely touched by the kindness and maternal care of these lovely strangers? You blink rapidly, swallowing hard.
“Honestly … gelato has been my biggest craving these past couple days. I don’t know if I can eat another bite.”
A chorus of disapproving gasps and tuts rises from the assembled grandmothers. “Bah! This pregnancy has ruined your appetite, piccina,” one crows, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ll soon get it back to rights, don’t you worry.”
For the next hour, you’re lavished with attention, fussed over and coddled like the most precious jewel. Cold drinks and chilled towels appear to keep you comfortable as the nonnas take turns sitting with you, petting your belly and swapping outrageous birth stories.
Their colorful Italian voices swell and ebb as they bicker over whose recipe for pasta al ragu is most authentic, who has the most grandchildren, and whose first-born grandson is most handsome.
It’s chaos and noise and overwhelming affection … and you’ve never felt so utterly content.
As the afternoon light slants golden through the awning, a familiar figure appears in the entrance, haloed by the fiery rays.
“Liefje? I’ve been looking everywhere ...” Max’s disbelieving gaze sweeps over the scene in front of him — you, surrounded by a veritable coven of grandmotherly Italians who seem entirely absorbed with you. “What in the world ...”
A chubby signora with a bright orange shawl wrapped around her ample form hops up, beaming widely. “Ahh! We have been absolutely spoiling your beautiful wife, of course. Did you know she had a craving for gelato? Well, no problem for us — we have taken her like one of our own bambinas!”
The others cluck and murmur in outraged agreement at his shocked expression.
“We absolutely will not let a piccina in such a state go hungry or uncomfortable! Now you sit down so we can get you a plate of some proper food too!”
Max gapes at you, utterly nonplussed as you grin back at him with unabashed glee, utterly stuffed with Italian desserts and reveling in the indulgent babying. You pat the space beside you invitingly.
“You’ve got to try Nonna Gina’s tiramisu, Maxie. It’ll knock your socks off.”
He settles beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and still looking rather dazed. But the instant the first warm smile and pat lands on his arm or knee, Max’s expression melts. This team of fussing Italian grandmothers has clearly adopted you both as their own.
Nonna Maria reappears, shoving a plate stacked with crispy arancini, indulgent risotto alla Milanese, and a creamy slice of tiramisu into your husband’s hands. “Eat up! You need to keep your strength up too, caring for this sweet cosa bella.” She plants bristly kisses on both your cheeks before scurrying off again.
Max watches her go, then turns to you with a bemused chuckle, squeezing you close. “Well, schatje. I have to hand it to you — at least your pregnancy cravings bring you to some … interesting places.”
You hum in agreement, perfectly content as you snuggle against his side. “Can you really think of a better place for me to nest?” You grin as another nonna appears to pat his cheek, welcoming him into the chaotic fold. “I think I may have just found my second family.”
He tilts your chin up, eyes sparkling with warmth. “Anything that makes you happy and keeps our baby healthy.”
As he kisses you tenderly, surrounded by clucking encouragement and rapturous croons of “bello, bellisimo” from your new Italian grandmothers, you know you’ve never felt so blissfully cherished.
You and Max make your way slowly back to the Red Bull motorhome, stuffed to the gills with gelato and trailed by a gaggle of besotted well-wishers calling out farewells and advice.
“I still can’t believe you managed to befriend the entirety of Ferrari hospitality,” Max laughs, helping ease you onto the couch in his driver’s room. He nudges your belly playfully. “This little one is shaping up to be quite the international charmer!”
“Says the man who single-handedly compelled Red Bull to create an entirely new product line,” you point out, patting your swollen middle contentedly. “I have a feeling this baby is going to be the most spoiled child on earth.”
Max settled beside you, gathering you close with a tender smile. “Can you blame all our people for wanting to give the world to you two?” His thumb traced your jawline reverently. “You’re carrying a little miracle, liefje.”
Your breath catches, as it so often did when he looks at you like that. Like you’re his entire universe. With so much pure adoration and love shining in those grey eyes.
“Our miracle,” you correct softly, cradling his calloused hand over your belly. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Not just supporting me … but giving me everything I could ever dream of.”
He opens his mouth like he wanted to protest, but you press on, needing him to understand how treasured he makes you feel.
“You don’t stop until I’m happy. Even when I get these raging, random cravings that probably seem crazy, you move heaven and earth to give me whatever I need. Most people would never ...”
“Neither of us is most people,” Max interrupts fiercely. He presses a searing kiss to your lips, then the swell of your abdomen. “You and our little one are my entire world. I’ll spend every day showing you how much I love you both, how grateful I am to have you in my life.”
Hormones raging, you pull his mouth back to yours, savoring the taste and feel of him surrounding you. When you finally part, you rest your forehead against his.
“In that case, you better rest up for tonight,” you tease. “I have a feeling that someone’s going to get a craving for sardines and waffles right around midnight.”
***
At nine months pregnant, you feel like a blissfully beached whale.
Your belly protrudes so massively that you can barely see your feet anymore. Simple tasks like tying your shoes or rolling over in bed have become awkward geometric obstacles. Max has to help you up from every chair or couch, his strong arms levering your frame into a vertical position.
Lingering in the paddock is no longer an option either. You’ve been gently but firmly ordered back home to Monaco to prepare for the baby’s arrival.
Thank goodness your nesting instincts are going full tilt — otherwise you might go stir crazy waiting for this little one to make their grand debut. You’ve rearranged and re-organized the nursery a dozen times, washed and rewashed all the tiny onesies and miniature accessories, and baked enough lactation cookies to feed an army of nursing mothers.
Really, there’s only one craving occupying your mind now …
The thump of shoes in the hall makes you look up eagerly. Max appears in the doorway of the sunlit nursery, loose waves of brown hair framing his face. The plain white tee stretches enticingly across his chest and shoulders, making your mouth water for an entirely different reason than food.
“Hey schatje,” he greets, eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes in your flushed cheeks. A knowing smirk tugs at one side of his mouth. “Were you just ... thinking about me?”
You shake your head adamantly, wincing as the motion makes your whole body ache in protest. “Maybe just a little. This particular craving is getting out of control.”
Crossing to you in two strides, Max cups your jaw and brings your lips crashing together in a searing kiss. His tongue sweeps demanding and possessive into your mouth, making you whimper faintly. That intoxicating masculine scent of fresh sweat, motor oil, and sandalwood surrounds you in an alluring cloud.
After all these years, just the taste and smell of your husband is enough to drench you in molten wanting. Baby or no baby, Max Verstappen is still the sexiest goddamn thing on two legs.
“Mmm, I know exactly what you need,” he rumbles against your neck, nipping a tingling path along your sensitive skin. “Luckily for you, I’ve got a free schedule all afternoon to help take care of this craving ...”
He scoops you into his arms effortlessly, cradling your heavy weight against his chest to carry you to the bedroom. You twine your arms shamelessly around his neck, luxuriating in the hard strength of his body against yours.
“Aren’t you worried about ... squashing the baby?”
“Not at all,” he deposits you carefully on the bed. Those bright grey eyes darken with blazing lust. “I’m going to take such good care of you and our little one.”
His hands and mouth seem to be everywhere at once — caressing, nibbling, and stroking every sensitive inch he can lavish adoring attention on. You keen softly when he dips his tongue into your navel, rubbing reverent circles over the tight swell of your belly.
“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Max murmurs, lips brushing the crease where your torso and bump meet. “So ripe and round and radiant with our child. My beautiful, strong girl ...”
All you can do is lie there gasping, overwhelmed in the best possible way. He strips you methodically, leaving a trail of scorching, openmouthed kisses over every newly exposed inch.
“My sexy little pregnant wife,” he husks, tongue dragging up the slick crease at the apex of your thighs. “Can’t resist this craving can you, liefje?”
His fingers plunge inside you, curling expertly as his mouth closes over your throbbing bud. You throw your head back shamelessly, mindless with pleasure as Max devours you.
So good, so unbearably good …
He ravishes you thoroughly, sending gushing waves of release crashing through your body over and over again until you’re gasping and quivering. Atoms of blissful satisfaction hum in your bloodstream as you float back into sweet oblivion.
An insistent nudge against your belly slowly rouses you. Max looms over you, hair deliciously rumpled and eyes glittering wickedly. “Did I satisfy that craving sufficiently? Or should I keep going?”
Your mouth curves in a greedy smile, hands gliding over his flexing shoulders and chest. “Again, please ...”
It had long since become a running gag around the paddock and team — before you were advised to stop flying. When you couldn’t be located, someone would joke that you must be off ravaging your utterly besotten husband yet again.
Max took the ribbing with surprising grace, grinning unrepentantly whenever his shirt collar revealed another blossom of lovebites discoloring the skin of his throat.
You really didn’t care about the teasing. You’re indulging an entirely healthy and normal craving — just a wife thoroughly appreciating her man.
“Can you believe people used to call this a punishment?” You giggle breathlessly one afternoon.
Max nips a stinging path along the soft skin of your inner thighs, tracing tantalizingly close to your heated center. He laves his tongue soothingly over the reddened marks, leering up at you from between your parted legs.
“Let them call it whatever they want. I’m just taking advantage of your hormones making you insatiable for me.”
“Mmm, well I can’t seem to resist your obscenely perfect body either,” you admit with a lazy stretch. “Maybe we really are being punished.”
One dark brow wings up eloquently as Max drags his eyes over you in a deliberately insolent perusal. Taking your leg in hand, he licks an achingly slow, filthy stripe up the crease where thigh meets hip.
You choke on a whimper, whole body jolting as he sucks a blossom of wet kisses into the satiny expanse of your inner thigh. Those bright grey eyes hold yours in wicked challenge as his clever tongue massages and swirls over your sensitized flesh.
“This certainly doesn’t seem like punishment to me,” he husks darkly. “Does it feel like punishment when I do this ...” His mouth moves higher. “Or this ...”
By the time he finishes torturing you into a quivering, needy wreck, you’re more than ready to beg.
“Please, Max!” You sob, bucking helplessly against the maddening sensations. “I need you, oh god I need you so bad ...”
He settles heavily over you, nuzzling your hair aside to trail searing kisses along your damp throat. “Then you shall have me. My needy wife can have whatever she craves ...”
It’s midway through one such shattering round of lovemaking that Max’s phone begins to ring shrilly. You try to disentangle, burning embarrassment tinting your cheeks, but he simply growls and clutches you tighter.
“Leave it!” He bites out, surging forward to recapture your mouth in a bruising clash of teeth and tongue between thrusts. “I’m busy ... satisfying … my wife ...”
After, as you lie tangled in a sweaty heap of satiation, you can’t resist asking with a wry smile, “Was that another craving I just demanded you satisfy?”
Max props himself up on one elbow, thumb stroking idly along your abdomen as his piercing gaze roams over your flushed, disheveled form.
“Whatever my wife needs,” he responds huskily. Those burning eyes promise infinite carnal delights to come as they caress your body. “I’ll always crave giving her everything she desires.”
He stretches beside you, a blissful smile curving his lips as you snuggle up against his side to exchange lazy kisses.
You’ve got a sneaking suspicion this is one craving that might outlast the pregnancy ...
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He likes occupying the same space as Tommy. It's - every time he looks across a room and sees him he just wants all the space between them to disappear. And - okay - yeah - Tommy has, like occupied space inside of Buck so there's - there's a little Pavlovian tic somewhere in the goo Tommy's smile can turn his brain into but also -
He likes the way it feels when they're side by side - naked or clothed - and Tommy arches his shoulder to smack it into Buck's. He likes the way his eyes dart, when they're breathing the same air and he's thinking about kissing Buck - which is a look he relishes now as much for the knowledge that he's about to be kissed as for the knowledge that he'd seen this look a half dozen times before they ever got to the kissing part. He likes the way Tommy occupies Buck's space - never overbearing but always close, close, close like if Buck asked they'd melt pieces of themselves and stick them together before everything cooled back down. He likes the way they can't quite hold hands without their arms brushing, and the way Tommy ducks his head when Buck exaggerates a flirty head tilt.
He likes a lot of things about Tommy.
He likes the way he grudgingly enters a gay bar because it's not really his scene and ends the night with a drag queens feather boa wrapped around his neck while he sings the Gaga parts of Shallow even if he gets a little pitchy.
He likes the way Tommy boops his nose, out of the blue while he's listening to Buck explain something that has no bearing on either one of them or the thing they're working towards together - still listening with rapt attention but also a little devastatingly charmed by Buck's rambles, of all things.
He likes the way his nose scrunches up when he laughs, soft and genuine, the way when he's really feeling it the ears draw back too.
He likes the way he sounds, that first time (and every time after) Buck found his prostate and he whined like a fucking siren.
He likes the way his face softens even when he's tired, worn around the edges as Buck flings a sock into his laundry basket and tucks his head up under Tommy's chin.
He hates the way Tommy shuts down every time Buck tries to bring up the future.
And it's not like - it's not like Buck isn't aware they'd sort of speed run some milestones. House keys swapped with the sort of flippancy you'd expect out of two guys whose schedules rarely lined up. A drawer in Bucks's loft for the clothes Tommy always left behind, because for some reason he liked to fling them over the balcony instead of stuff them back in his overnight bag. A toothbrush at Tommy's a month and a half in, which wouldn't be all that strange except for he'd gone out of his way to buy the same electric one Buck had in his bathroom vanity. The pin to each others phones, swapped and repeated until it was muscle memory and three weeks ago Buck had grabbed the wrong phone but he'd seen the lock screen of the two of them from their hike in Fern Dell and he'd punched the code in like it was rote before he'd even been fully awake.
Tommy'd hit a wall, though, the first time Buck brought up his lease. And it wasn't - Buck isn't always the best about understanding the shit going on in his own head, but he actually hadn't been going any particular direction there, it'd just been something to fill the lull that had popped in his head and -
Of course, when Tommy froze the fuck up Buck decided to poke at it like a particularly nasty yellowing bruise.
Kids - not his own, just the nebulous idea of them. (Tommy shifted to a conversation about cars so smoothly it'd taken Buck half an hour to notice.)
Marriage - not his own thoughts about it, just that Bobby and Athena had an anniversary coming up and man didn't it suck that Maddie and Chim never got the wedding they wanted and he'd gone to one once in Montana and it'd been in a barn and they'd had candles in Mason jars for their centerpieces before that was the thing to do. (Tommy booped his nose and scrunched his face and held out a ladle of tomato sauce for Buck to try and - son of a bitch he'd known it needed more acid and that Buck would get distracted with recipe talk.)
Homes - the idea of them. Tommy's century old ranch style rental and how it fit him, Bobby and Athena's hunt for a new home, how quiet Eddie's always felt without Chris there, and Tommy had spent an hour listing off all the things he'd fixed up for his landlady and the rent she'd been stubbornly stuffing back through his mail slot every time she found out exactly how much the labor alone for a full copper repipe cost.
So it's.
He's just.
He hates that he's about to do this, here, with his ankle hooked by Tommy's toes under the table at Micelli's when they're supposed to be enjoying six months but he's been on edge for weeks now and he's - God he wants this to work but if Tommy doesn't want to talk future then are they just gonna spend their whole lives stumbling into the next milestone? He doesn't want -
"I had something I wanted to ask -," Tommy starts, right as Buck opens his big mouth and blurts, "I want kids and that's kind of a deal breaker for me."
Tommy blinks.
Buck blinks back.
Not much better than Hot Chicks, as far as Buck is concerned. But Tommy's mouth quirks at the corners, and he jiggles his toes against the back of Buck's ankle, and -
Tommy blows out a breath. "Oh thank God."
"What?"
So he's -
Buck's confused.
"You've been fishing for months now and I thought you were..." Tommy grimaces. When he leans forward to reach for Buck's hand, his arms are tense and his fingers are clumsy. "I thought we'd gone too fast and you were throwing us in reverse and stepping on the gas."
"What," Buck says again, and rewinds.
Kids: where he'd tried to drop the bomb that there was one out in the world who already had half his genetic code and then blazed along to talk about how Chris was his favorite person in the world and Maddie had struggled with Jee and the whole foster debacle made him terrified of all the stress involved in state sanctioned parenthood.
Marriage: where he'd made some dumb joke about how many marriages ended in divorce and then reminded Tommy how much he hated the fact that weddings cost like a third of a years salary, and then told a horrendous anecdote about the way Eddie had asked Buck to come by one night after Shannon only to find him keyed up out back, with the fire pit going and Shannon's things still tucked into their plastic bag on a stool right next to it.
Home: where he'd told Tommy the house in Hershey was like a prison and he'd never felt more himself than wandering the continent trying to find himself and how the loft was suffocatingly open and of the two places where he always felt welcome, one had burned down and the other had been missing an occupant for so long it had felt sad and oppressive.
Foot in mouth Buckley.
"I brought up my lease and you looked like you were trying to figure out if you could hurdle three tables in one leap to get to the door."
Tommy groans. It's. Buck wants to be annoyed by it but he's charmed as ever.
"That - I did do that."
"So. I'm just. Tommy, I..." Because he's given himself time to think about it, since then, and he really doesn't want to re-up his lease but he's also not sure where to go from here.
"It wasn't what you're thinking, though," Tommy says, and there's a wry tilt to his grin. "Irene wants to sell me the house," he continues, and - there's got to be a point, here.
"Okay."
He likes that house. The lived in feel, the easy walk to a little public market where Buck can always find something healthy and Tommy can always come home with a growler of some new craft beer, the avocado tree in the yard and the renovations Tommy has spent half a decade on.
"When you brought it up I'd just spent two weeks trying to convince myself it was too early to ask you if you wanted to sign up for a mortgage with me."
Six months. A redo of their first embarrassing date. The wine, instead of pitchers of beer. I had something I wanted to ask -
"I want to be married, someday," Buck says, and Tommy's thumb skitters over his wrist. "And - the kid thing. That's still a deal breaker."
Tommy nods. Maybe not a surprise, but - still. That feels important.
"I still don't understand equity," Buck says, and Tommy. Tommy laughs.
"I can teach you," he says, and Buck swallows. He wants to call the waitress over, ask for too many canolli because Tommy's sweet tooth is a tyrant and Buck is still mystified by how he manages to always be so trim despite the amount of sugar he consumes.
Buck narrows his eyes. "How long a mortgage?"
He has a settlement from the city that's just been sitting around, mocking Buck for years. It'd make a good dent even with LA real estate. Tommy smiles. "Oh, 30 years, for sure, but we could refinance at least a few times."
"That's - a long time."
"Housing bubble might pop soon, and then we'd just be stuck in it."
"It's good we both have dependable government jobs."
Tommy's eyes crinkle, but his face gets serious after a moment. "Evan."
"Ask me."
Maddie's gonna fucking flip, Buck thinks. Eddie is definitely gonna give him a side eye. Bobby - Bobby will get it, probably.
Tommy hums. "You wanna share the tiramisu?" His grin is just this side of teasing, and Buck knocks a knee into his in retaliation. His eyes go soft and warm. "You wanna buy a house with me, Buckley?"
#bucktommy#bucktommy fic#this isn't spec fic this is self-indulgent fluff LOOSELY inspired#by all the interviews and bts#this is mostly just me wanting a list of things buck likes about tommy
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thinking about… the morning after a sleepover w bsf!rafe
CW: smut! 18+ only! bsf!rafe x bsf!reader, slight somnophilia, fingering, unprotected piv sex, creampie, praise, love confession, super fluffy smut! this is rafe’s pov❤️
daydreams
i lay on my side in my bed, propped up on my elbow with my head laid in my hand. she looks so goddamn gorgeous when she sleeps. like a masterpiece that i want to hideaway from the world.
i watch the way her t-shirt covered chest—my t-shirt might i add— rises and falls with the slow and steady rhythm of her breathing. she moans and stirrs, turning onto her side, her back facing me. my eyes flit down to her perfect ass, slowly rising back up to stare at the back of her head. fuck. my cock twitches in my boxers, urging me to touch her.
slowly reaching my free hand out, i run my fingers down the length of her exposed thigh. she’s so soft. my cock twitches again. fucking bastard. i’m always horny in the mornings, but this is different. i’ve wanted her for as long as i can remember, but she’s my best friend, my parents are close with her parents. it would be wrong to cross this line, wouldn’t it?
no it wouldn’t be wrong, you’re just afraid she’ll reject you, she’s too good for you. that annoying voice of self doubt in the back of my head taunts me.
she stirrs in her sleep again, bending her left leg, making her ass poke out more. i’m losing the internal argument with myself to not touch her. fuck it. the worst she can do is wake up and ask me to stop, then i will. i just have to know what she feels like.
i reach my hand out again, slowly running my fingers up and down the back of her thigh. my fingers make their way to the curve of her ass, slowly making their way to her panty covered pussy. i slowly slide the thin layer of lace to the side, baring her arousal slick cunt. goddamn, she’s soaked.
my fingers slowly slide through her slick folds, causing her to softly moan and shift. she pokes her ass out farther, almost like she’s begging to feel my fingers inside her.
“rafe.” she moans in her sleep, and i swear i come in my boxers at the sweet sound of my name on her lips. this is the best possible outcome i could’ve asked for.
“yeah, princess, it’s me.” i whisper, scooting myself closer to her body.
i run my fingers in an up and down motion, coating my fingers with her arousal. i slowly spread her open, pushing one finger inside before quickly removing it. i toy with her clit, pinching and pulling on the puffy bundle of nerves before i run my fingers back down to her tight, wet hole, pushing two fingers into her this time.
she begins to rock her hips, riding my fingers and i push them in and out of her cunt. she lets out a soft gasp when i push my fingers knuckle deep inside her, curving them slightly and hitting at her sweet spot. i know the moment she wakes up, because her body stiffens and she cranes her neck, beautiful, big eyes locking with mine. she squeezes her eyes shut, making no attempt at stopping me from finger fucking her.
“r-rafe.. what— shit — what’re you doing?” she moans, eyes popping back open to stare back at me.
i smirk, picking up the pace of my fingers. “you looked so beautiful, i couldn’t help myself anymore.” i admit breathlessly. i’m so close to coming, and she hasn’t even touched me.
her small hand grips at my wrist, halting my movements. i frown. she’s going to stop me. tell me we can’t do this, that she doesn’t feel the way i do about her. i slowly grip her wrist with my free hand, pulling it off my own before removing my fingers from inside her. she turns her body, now facing me. her eyes search mine, and right when i think she’s about to rip my heart from my chest and stomp all over it, she leans forward, placing her lips on mine.
she seems hesitant at first, unsure of what she’s doing. she pulls away, breaking the kiss and staring back at me with a frown on her pouty lips. my blue eyes scan the length of her face before dropping to her lips. i hesitate a second. two seconds.
slowly placing my hands on her face, she leans into me, scooting closer. i pull her face into me, smiling before i kiss her again. i kiss her slowly at first before it turns hot, needy, passionate. i kiss her like i’m scared she’ll disappear between my fingers. i’ve never been big on kissing, but with her, fuck if it doesn’t feel right.
she moans against my lips, and i use the opportunity to slip my tongue into her mouth. i find her waist with my free hand, tugging on her until she takes the hint and presses her front into mine. i roll onto my back, never breaking the kiss and bringing her with me. she straddles my hips, kissing me as if her life depends on it— and to be honest, my life just might depend on this.
she finally breaks the kiss, pressing her palms flat on my bare chest. she’s breathing heavily, her eyes locked on mine as she speaks. “i- are you sure?”
“i’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, princess.”
she smiles, her hands finding the hem of her—my— t-shirt and pulling it up and over her head. she tosses it to the floor before her hands find the waistband of my boxers. she digs her fingers into the waistband, tugging impatiently.
i chuckle. “needy aren’t we?”
she rolls her eyes, slapping at my chest. “shut up.”
i laugh, a true genuine laugh that only she can bring out of me, and then lift my hips, allowing her to tug my boxers down my legs, allowing them to rest mid-thigh. her eyes fall down to stare at my hard cock, and she swallows nervously.
my fingers grip at her hips, digging into her soft flesh while i pull at the waistband of her thong. she startles, eyes finding mine again. i give her a soft smile, tugging hard at the side of her thong and ripping it clean off her body. she gasps. “rafe!”
“don’t worry, princess. i’ll buy you more.”
she nods, and then begins rocking her hips, her soaked pussy running over the length of my cock in a teasing motion. i groan, my hands finding her ass and squeezing at it hard.
“rafe, please?” she begs, and i swear i almost come right then. i’m not going to last long, i’ll need more of her all day.
“please, what, princess?” i ask, knowing full well what she wants.
she rocks her hips slowly against mine, making my cock twitch as she whispers, “please fuck me.”
goddamn, yeah i’m not going to be able to last. she’s like a fucking goddess and she’s begging me, rafe cameron, to fuck her.
i run my hands from her ass to her bare hips, squeezing at them lightly. she lifts herself up, allowing me to grip my cock in my right hand. i stroke it, running my swollen tip through her slick folds up to her clit, teasing her. she groans in frustration, centering herself with my dick before slamming herself down.
we groan in unison, me because her warm, wet, tight walls squeeze around my dick like a vice, and her because, well i don’t know why, maybe it just feels good.
both my hands rest on her hips, helping guide her up and down my thick length, “fuck, princess. you’re so fucking wet, so tight, feels so fucking good.” i praise her, loving the way she bites harshly at her plump bottom lip, whining with each push and pull of my cock inside her pussy.
my eyes move down to watch where we’re connected, and i can’t contain the moan that slips past my lips. her fucking cunt grips my dick like it was made for me. she was made for me, i’m sure of it. a creamy ring forms around my cock, evidence of her arousal followed by the lewd sounds her pussy makes with each thrust of my hips.
she leans her body forward, hands gripping harshly at my shoulders. her lips find the shell of my ear, licking and nipping at the lobe and sending an array of goosebumps over my skin. she slowly bounces on my cock, perfectly manicured nails digging into my shoulders as she whispers, “fuck me, rafe. fuck me like you hate me.”
god this girl. i’ll give her what she wants, but i could never fucking hate her. not even if she fucking tried to make me hate her.
i place my hands firmly on her hips, holding her in place. she buries her face in the crook of my neck, and i begin pounding into her perfect pussy from below. she whimpers and moans against the sweat slick skin of my neck, her teeth nipping and lips kissing at my flesh the harder and faster i fuck myself into her.
her pussy clenches and unclenches around my cock, begging my cock to fill it with my cum. i slow my thrusts, pulling out slowly before slamming back inside. she lifts her head, heavy, beautiful eyes on mine.
“fuck, princess. you feel so good wrapped around my cock, takin’ me so fucking good,” thrust. “that’s it, baby. milk my cock, keep squeezin’ me like that, you want to make a mess on my cock and then let me fill you with my cum?”
she moans, throwing her head back as she drags her nails down the length of my chest. she looks ethereal like this, skin glittering with sweat, chest heaving up and down, lips slightly parted as she tries to contain her sweet fucking moans.
“i love you.” i blurt out before i can even stop myself.
her beautiful eyes go wide, and she stops moving for a second. fuck, that’s such a mood killer, way to go dumbass.
i open my mouth to apologize, but she leans forward, capturing my lips with hers in a soft kiss. oh fuck, i’m gonna— shit! i thrust myself into her pussy once more, coming deep inside her in long, hot spurts. did she cum? i’ll have to go down on her to ensure she gets something out of this too.
she helps me ride out my high, kissing, sucking and biting on my lips before she pulls away and slides herself off my softening cock. she lays on her back, and i prop myself up, watching my thick, white cum slowly seep from her pretty pussy. her soft hands push at my chest, forcing me back onto my back. she rolls to her side, tossing an arm over my body and cuddling herself into me.
“i love you, too. i was wondering when you’d stop playing and tell me how you really felt.”
idk i haven’t done fluffy smut in so long! happy saturday y’all(:
tagging some moots: @oceandriveab @rafesthroatbaby @rafetopia @moremaybank @rafeyscurtainbangs @starkeysprincess @xxbimbobunnyxx @babygorewhore @maybankslover @fallrafwe
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x best friend!reader#bsf!rafe#bsf!reader#obx#obx smut
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Spectacle
Kinktember Day 11: Cuckquean
IVE Wonyoung and Liz x male reader smut
words: 6,118 Kinktember Masterlist
"I love you."
You love her too. That's a long-accepted fact, and you've told each other this a hundred times over. Sometimes it's casually told at the end of a phone call, sometimes it's in some romantic setting like when you're walking out on the promenade under the night sky, but in a way, these ones are the most honest.
It's a little bit special when those are the only words that come to her mind while she is cumming.
She's lying with her head against your neck, still shaking in pleasure. You would reply but you're so focused on grinding into her and you're so fucking close...
By this point, it's all become a little routine. Predictable, maybe. She gets home, you cook together, eat together, watch a film or TV show together, then one of you makes a move and... You get the picture. It's any old weekday.
So maybe this isn't what people would consider to be earth-shattering sex(fuck the critics) but she likes the feeling of your hips bucking and you spilling inside her. And you love the way she struggles for breath in between her moans before she does that same little squeal right before she cums.
These nights have all blurred a little into one. Tonight will become a little section on a page of many; a few lines that are not much more than a footnote.
Silence sets in once you untangle your limbs and lay beside her. Her head is pressed against your shoulder and the post-sex smell hangs in the air.
You look out your window over at the walled gardens on the other side of the river. It's as dull a sight to look at as always and there's hardly anyone out at this time but somehow you're content with looking at this view.
"So, do you think we should visit my dad sometime?" Liz asks out of the blue.
"I know I said I would think about it, but I was a little busy just now." You roll your head over to the side, sacrificing the river view for Liz's flush face. "What's this about?"
"Like I said, he's been asking." Her words trail off and she doesn't quite meet your eyes. She gives an awkward shrug of her bare shoulders, and then scoots over, snuggling up even closer. You give her back an appreciative squeeze.
"I can't do this weekend, busy remember? But we can go next week?"
Her hand stops circling your abdomen and she lifts her head from your shoulder to look at you. "Busy?" Her eyes dart around, searching your face for clues, but she just has to ask: "With?"
"My friend's birthday, I told you last week, and you said, and I quote, 'Okay babe, I'm meeting Wony this weekend anyway, have fun!'" You do your best-worst impression of her which earns you a jab of her fist in your side and a laugh.
"Oh... I'm always forgetting things."
"You work too hard." You cup her cheek and stretch your neck muscles to plant a kiss on her forehead. She coos and moves forward again, returning to her rightful spot snug on your shoulder. You slip your arm behind her back, and both of you lie there together in comfortable silence.
Liz moves her hand up from your stomach to your chest and starts circling her fingers over your skin. The touch is light and soft and very very deliberate.
"I have another question..." Liz eventually says, trailing off her sentence as though she's half lost in her own thought.
You bring your hand up to hers, hooking under her wandering finger and raising her hand, and then you lock your fingers between hers. "What is it? Something on your mind?"
"Am I good?"
"Good? Good person? Good cook? Good girlfriend? Good what?"
Liz laughs gently nuzzling into your body to hide her face and breathing hot breath over your skin. "Good... in bed."
"Oh thank god, I thought you were going to ask about your cooking and I'm not so great at the whole white lie thing."
She tries to punch you with the hand you're holding but you tighten your grip to stop her. "Not funny," she groans with a smile on her face.
She tries to turn her head into the pillow but you refuse to move or say anything until she looks at you. When she eventually peers up and matches your gaze you tell her, "You are the perfect girlfriend in every way," you tell her.
She exhales a short chuckle and raises an eyebrow. "Nice dodge," she tells you, unable to contain her laugh, and you laugh with her. "It's okay, I have a plan."
You pause, her words suddenly throwing you. "A plan for what?"
"You'll see."
She refuses to say anything more for the rest of the night, but she smiles at your puzzlement and laughs whenever you try to playfully nudge the subject. And you do notice that a slight smile seems to stick to her face all night, right up until she falls asleep.
***
Sunday evening transport is so hellishly unpredictable, so you're walking in the apartment door about an hour later than you planned, and about twice as stressed as you should be.
All of that washes away when you look at the girl who's been waiting for you to get home.
The scented (mostly melted) candles have been burning for a while and the smell of them fills the apartment. Not only has Liz picked out one of your favourite bottles of wine, but she's poured out a pair of glasses of it already, though they're both half-empty. And as you near it, the bottle is too.
"Hey, Liz."
"Finally! Welcome home," she says with a smile as broad as your confusion. "I've been waiting so long. So, so long." She's wearing a gown you don't recognise that's soft to touch when you hug her as she throws herself against you.
"Is this new?" you ask, touching at the silk hem.
"Of course it is," she answers quickly. "I was saving it, saving it until a special night. You know... Something special to break it out for."
She moves back in your arms, so she can have a better look at you, and she stares for just a few seconds before she leans back in, this time kissing you full on the lips. There's nothing soft about it. There's no hesitancy, and certainly no tenderness. This kiss is so firmly decided, so purposeful.
She purrs her words against your lips, "I've been giving it some thought, and, I know you would never say it, but I'm a little bit... vanilla, in the bedroom. And, I know, I know," she stops you with her fingers on your lips, shushing you with the tilt of her head and a flutter of her long lashes, "You wouldn't say anything because you love me too much and you're far too kind, but, this is for me too, okay? I want to be good, I want to try different things, exciting things, and this is the best way for me to learn."
"Liz. Liz. I've barely walked in the door and you're throwing this at me. I need a minute."
"No, don't think, we've been waiting so long for you already." Liz is pulling your arm toward the bedroom door. Her soft touch and your own burning curiosity have you willingly in tow.
"We?"
She's smiling the wildest of smiles over her shoulder as she pulls you along. Your heart beats a little harder in anticipation of what lies ahead, and even more at the look of sheer excitement and determination on her beautiful face.
You dropped your bag somewhere in the middle of the room but you hadn't even taken off your shoes before Liz is bundling you through the doorway.
"This is Wonyoung."
Why the fuck is there a girl in your bed?
"Wait. I know. It's weird right?" Liz sounds giddy, almost frantic. She bounces up to you and pulls on your arm until you stand right alongside her, peering down at the young woman in front of you. "You know Wonyoung, right?"
"Of course, I know one of your best friends, but why is she in our bed?" You turn and look at the girl lying there with a similar silk gown over her body, from her neck down to just below the knee. "Sorry, no offence, but I have no idea what's happening right now."
Wonyoung doesn't react but instead chooses that moment to rise. She is sitting with her hands folded on top of her legs. She tilts her head and examines you carefully, with an unmoving gaze that's almost more uncomfortable than the two of you hovering over her.
"It's fine." The deep smooth voice cuts through the silence like a hot knife. Her voice is as cool and calm as you expected, not that you're all that familiar with it, you have only met her a handful of times.
"Liz?" you ask, turning to her again.
"I want to watch. I'm going to watch," she blurts out her response before falling silent.
"What?"
Liz exhales softly, then draws in a steady breath, steeling herself, as her mouth curves in a trembling smile. "I was talking to Wonyoung, about... things. And, well, we were talking, and I guess maybe this idea just sort of popped into our heads. I couldn't just dismiss it. And I've had this fantasy. And well Wonyoung, it's been a while. And you, I want you to. And I can learn." Liz is talking far too quickly and doesn't finish a single sentence she starts.
"What she is trying to say," Wonyoung cuts in with her voice sharp and full of cold steel. "Is that we have come to a mutually beneficial agreement."
"Arrangement." Liz chimes in with the correction.
"That I will," her eyes drift, flickering and moving over both of you, "join you both, for a while, in a few different ways. What Liz is trying to explain is that, well, to be frank, it's been a while for me and I would appreciate some good sex. As for Liz here... It just so happens she has a bit of a fantasy about this whole thing too."
"Yeah, exactly." Liz cups your cheeks and kisses you gently. "It's completely up to you, of course." Her hands rest at the back of your neck and she closes her eyes, resting her forehead against yours. "I love you."
Your hands are hanging idly by your waist. This woman sits on your bed and your girlfriend clings to you, asking you to fuck her.
"Okay." A single word while your heart is beating hard with anticipation. You reach to Liz's waist and pull her flush against you and plant your lips against her soft supple skin.
She giggles with delight and puts a finger under your chin, tilting your gaze up. "So... We're really going to do this, huh?" Liz leans in, eyes flickering over your own as you exchange a final look. You feel her warm breath just a moment before the warm touch of her lips, pressing against yours, melting your resistance and hesitation, while sending warmth through you, easing you into acceptance, as the idea begins to cement itself in your thoughts.
There's a rustle of sheets as Wonyoung climbs up behind you and presses herself against you. "You're already late," she whispers behind you. "Don't make me wait any longer."
Liz leans away and her delicate fingers ease open your shirt, undoing each button in turn.
"Don't hold back. I want to see you give it to her." Liz takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, "Please, babe." Then she takes a step back, towards the chair that you're just now realising had been moved from the corner of the room so it had a close view of the bed.
Wonyoung pulls your shirt from behind, dragging it over your shoulders and down your arms. She follows the fabric down your back with a series of gentle kisses over your spine. The light tickle and feel of her hair drag over your skin, as she tugs the shirt free of your wrists.
"Liz..." You look over to your girlfriend who is staring with a grin on her face. Her eyes follow every single movement that Wonyoung makes as if studying them, examining them, processing them.
Wonyoung tugs the shirt free of your wrists and discards it. Her hands immediately reach over your chest and drag downward, making no secret of the way that her little breasts under the silk push firmly, and delightfully, up against your back.
Her nails drag over your skin until she hits the waist of your trousers. Delicate fingers, so precise in their movement, make quick work of the belt buckle, the button, and the zip. All without pausing, all without hesitation.
Under the dim light of the evening, Wonyoung pushes your trousers, and underwear, free from your hips. Down, over your ass, dragging them down your thighs. The cool air passes over your body, and you look to Liz for affirmation.
She smiles and she nods, waiting for what comes next.
Naked, and vulnerable, you're standing before her with another woman wrapped over you. Wonyoung reaches around you with both hands, she takes one confident grip of your still-limp length, and her other hand just a little lower onto your balls.
Liz's eyes light up at the sight.
"Not hard yet. Nervous?" Wonyoung's question is a tease. Her voice, velvet and silky, is whispered into your ear. The smell of her perfume is subtle, but the floral, womanly scent is unmistakable. She moves her hand in a light grip over the base of your cock and moves it slowly, methodically, and without the urgency you might've expected.
"Maybe..."
Wonyoung releases a silent giggle against the skin at the back of your neck. "Just wait..."
You look at Liz and her hands clamp tight over her knees as her breathing visibly hastens, matching your own. Her attention is fully, single-mindedly, upon you, with you, but there is no doubt about where her thoughts and her emotions lie. She's excited. In the comfort of seeing that, so are you.
"There we go," Wonyoung whispers. Her hands work leisurely over you. And yet in no time at all, you're rising in her grip. Stiffening. Aching for more. Your focus is on the sight of the only woman you have ever cared for, but the feeling of someone else's hand on your cock as you watch her is as strange as it is exciting.
She massages with both hands, always rhythmic, always steady. "Liz, do you like to suck cock?" Her question comes out smooth, and refined but pointed.
Liz glances up at you briefly, then down between her knees. She gives her answer as a nod, looking a little timid as her hands tighten their grip even more and her nails start to press into her knees. "I like the way his body reacts to my tongue." She glances up once more with a satisfied smile.
"That's good. And he likes it too?"
"Yes," you both say it at the same time.
You shiver as Wonyoung plants a long trail of delicate, wet kisses over your neck. She draws back her hand and leaves you there, cock stiff in the air. She walks around you slowly, finally that pretty face of hers coming into view. Her dark brown hair falls over her shoulders, the locks blending into the black silk of her gown.
She places both of her hands on your chest and stares right at you, no ounce of shyness or reserve as her piercing eyes dig deep, threatening to carve a hole clean through you.
"See something you like?" she asks. "Liz, if he is so hungry looking at me now, can you imagine what his expression is going to be like once my robe is off?"
Wonyoung rests the tip of her tongue on her lower lip, using it to moisten the pillowy soft, glossy surface. Her fingers rake down your chest as she drops elegantly, slowly to her knees and smiles up at you with those shiny red lips.
"May I?" she asks.
You take in the sight of her, kneeling before you, her lips so teasingly close to your tip that each of her soft breaths kisses it. A lustful, indecent twinkle in her eye.
You force a glance over to Liz, to which Winyoung immediately reacts, "I'm asking you, not her."
And all of the reasons to hesitate are just evaporating.
"May I suck your cock?" she repeats. She remains perfectly, unnervingly, poised on her knees.
"Yes. Suck my cock, Wonyoung."
Your breath catches. Your whole body shudders as she runs the warm, wet flat of her tongue up the underside of your hardness. Her gaze never falters. Wonyoung purses her lips, before lowering herself in her elegant descent, and letting her tongue slide around you as she sinks into the first of many bobs of her head.
Liz shuffles forward on the edge of her chair.
Wonyoung takes you deep, so deep, without so much of a gag or splutter. Her dark, doll-like eyes stare straight ahead, as she swallows your cock with her luscious lips and warm mouth. The warm and wet envelopes you so wholly that you can't stop yourself from hissing a groan of approval and you feel her mouth tighten its grip with a devious grin.
Liz squeezes her bare legs together.
Wonyoung braces herself on your hip, wrapping the other hand around your thigh as she rises and sinks back down again, again, again. Each time she gets a little quicker, a little stronger.
It's so different to when Liz does it. She's normally so playful with her tongue, and she doesn't take a lot of it inside her, but Wonyoung seems to have this sole fixation on drawing you deep into her. The very back of her throat greets your sensitive tip.
The muffled moans that roll from her throat vibrate around your shaft, and her tongue eagerly rolls all over your every inch. Her deep breaths get heavier, and her suckling becomes sloppy and wet. You're getting weak at the knees.
Wonyoung finally releases you with a short gasp and looks up at you with glassy eyes, "Fuck," she groans out before spitting over your shaft.
She clasps her hand over the head and grips you tightly, stroking up and down the length.
You don't dare to tear your gaze from the stunning, lewd woman staring up at you.
"Tastes... Mmm. So good, so good." Wonyoung whines her praise out between kisses and flicks of her tongue on your tip.
Your hands twitch and the instinct to sink your fingers into her hair is a near-unstoppable urge. You gently thread your fingers into her long, silken tresses, and gently grip them. She lets out a satisfied gasp and then says to Liz, "Look at that. See how much he wants me?"
Your gaze shoots over to Liz. Her eyes are transfixed, focused on Wonyoung's tongue, wrapped around the head of your cock. Her breath shudders, then slows.
You pull Wonyoung's head down while staring at your girlfriend. If she wants a show, you'll give her one.
A quiet sound escapes her, and then a sharper inhale, but still she shows no sign of objection. On the contrary, the pleased hum that emanates from her mouth drives you wild. It encourages you. You rock your hips forward, slamming past her lips and prodding against her throat. Your lust swells alongside your confidence.
"Good girl." You know how much Liz likes it when you're the dominant one, she often teases you in conversation about how it's hot when you tell her what to do and you notice her breathing become hitched when you whisper dirty things in her ears.
Wonyoung says nothing but moans her appreciation and rewards your command by relaxing her throat and letting you use her.
For a while you use her, over and over until you're right on the edge, Liz looks practically ready to jump out of the chair, and when you check on Wonyoung, her face is a mess. Tears streaking, saliva dripping. She's taken every last drop of this beating with nothing but an overwhelming desire to serve you.
She opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue. The desperate submissiveness in her act brings you that step closer, "Cum, cum," she moans out between deep gulps of air. "Do it. Give it to me."
She's holding your cock in her fist and pumping it towards her face. With the first hot jet of cum, she cranes forward and takes it onto her eager tongue. She looks up at you as if urging you to keep going, to fill her pretty mouth.
Liz gasps audibly as you empty the contents of your balls into the sweet girl's waiting mouth. Wonyoung does nothing but accept what you're giving.
Your girlfriend just watched you blow a load into the mouth of her friend.
With each spurt into the soft, receptive touch of Wonyoung's inviting mouth, Liz squirms on her chair, her tongue playing on her lower lip.
"That's so hot," she strains to say through heavy breaths.
Wonyoung swallows all of it without instruction and then cleans you off in the same eager fashion that she sucked the load out of you.
"Hey Liz," Wonyoung croons in that smooth, velvety voice, while kissing along your thighs, her breathing quick and light on your damp skin. "You should have invited me sooner. I can think of a hundred ways to fuck this cock."
Wonyoung sweeps her damp hair from her face. She presses her forehead to your thigh, collecting herself. You can feel her taking deep breaths through her nose against the skin of your thigh.
"Show me."
At that, Wonyoung glances at Liz in genuine surprise.
"Show me all of those," Liz pauses, and takes a moment to collect her words. "All of those ways to fuck my man. Please show me."
"Okay, Liz, you just sit there and watch me fuck your man." Wonyoung's lips are sticky with your cum, glistening and tempting in the low light of the room, the remnants of your seed on her chin are even more provocative, as Wonyoung tilts her head and reveals a gorgeous neck and collarbone that draws your attention. "Well?" Wonyoung continues, extending her hand, "Help me up."
"Of course." You reach for her, eager and so, so ready. You pull her to her feet, and into a heated kiss, a little rougher than you should, but she doesn't mind. You lean down, slipping your hands around her thighs and then up to her ass, lifting her against your body.
Wonyoung squeals as you take three steps towards the bed, toss her over the edge, and then stand over her. Her gown has fallen open, framing her petite, naked body in the centre of your bed. It takes no time for her to move back, propping herself up on her elbows, and then giving her body a delicious stretch to emphasise her every feature. She sits there, spreading her legs, knees parted, showing you her bare, wet pussy, flushed and exposed.
"I want you over me so badly. Pushing my legs up over my head and fucking down into me. But not tonight. Tonight I'm going to show Liz how to ride a cock. Would you like that?" The lust in her dark eyes shines, not for you, not for Liz, but for the moment, the experience, the power that Wonyoung wields right now.
"Yes," you whisper.
"Good." Wonyoung raises herself, rising to her knees to look up at you, leaving a lingering, open-mouthed kiss on your lips before peeling the gown off of her shoulders.
In a small, feminine pile, it gathers on the floor. Then she flaunts herself, not so much in an exhibitionist way, though she certainly has every right to, but more of someone who enjoys being admired. It's not just because her body is fucking stunning, but it sells such a sinful promise of how good it's going to feel to fuck, and she knows it.
You hold her waist for that simple purpose. Hands over her narrow body, soft skin and toned muscles underneath. For her part, Wonyoung extends one delicate arm so that she may brush her index finger over your jaw, just making that familiar, if chilling, grazing over your skin. You slide your hand down between her legs and press a single finger inside her.
"Mmm. Don't be afraid," she purrs.
You stroke her smoothly. Two fingers, twisting them, delving into her as her insides react, tightening, dampening around your teasing invasion.
"Already getting me so worked up, and poor Liz over there is being so well-behaved."
"Hey!" Liz laughs playfully. Her playful laughter trails off when Wonyoung's voice lowers, and the erotic, needy sound in her tone builds.
"Lie down, let me show her how it's done. Look at me. Watch me."
Immediately, you melt away. Back to the bed, to the cool feeling of the sheets under your skin. The quiet anticipation, and the expectation. With languid grace, and without her body ever seeming to interrupt its soft, almost perfect curvature, Wonyoung climbs over you. She places one knee on the bed, then the other. A hand on your chest, then the other. The weight of her, what little there is, pressing you down until the moist heat from her lips finds your cock.
She presses your length flat against your body, the lips of her pussy holding it in a long kiss that she gradually eases over your shaft. Grinding back and forth, you watch as your cock disappears under her as she comes forward, only to drag herself back down against it.
"Feel that?" Wonyoung pants quietly.
"Uh-huh," you hum.
"Feel that warmth, that slickness sliding around you. Imagine what it's going to feel like inside, hmm?" She coaxes a twitch out of you as you do exactly as she says.
Her tight abs roll into you, followed by the press of her thighs. Hot and clasping. Higher, her bare chest bears a pair of hard nipples on her little perky tits. Higher still, her face twists in expressions of pleasure, the delight in her shining eyes, the rapture etched across her face. Her lips tremble as something threatens to escape, whether a whine, moan, exasperated breath or a request for something, she never vocalises the sound and it remains nothing more than a sensual promise of a good time ahead.
Wonyoung slows to a stop and throws her head forward, putting her hands on your shoulders. You place yours at her legs, watching her close her eyes, drawing her lower lip between her teeth.
"Feel how wet I am?" Wonyoung moves her hips in tight circles and she struggles to hold back her whimpers. Her warmth flows out of her and over you. "That's me, getting turned on at the thought of having this inside of me," she whispers. She rocks herself again, this time drawing out her whimper.
"God. Fuck..." You gasp and groan. You want this. Need it.
Wonyoung lifts and turns your cock until your head prods against her tight and needy pussy. She pauses to look to the side, her hair falling over her face but you can make out a grin, that very sly smile as she tilts her head towards your girlfriend, no doubt appreciating her breathless arousal.
"I'm going to ride your boyfriend's cock now. Cum all over his cock. Make him cum inside me. How does that feel?" Wonyoung moans softly, tipping her hips up, down, and over again, toying with the head. "Mmm, you like the sound of that, don't you?"
Liz is gripping the arms of her chair, not saying a thing. She just whines with agitation, kicks her feet out and stamps on the floor.
Then, Wonyoung gasps with relief. While your head was turned, Wonyoung surprised you by drawing the tip of your cock into her. You snap you're attention back to her as she settles around your cock. Where her throat was so accepting, her pussy is decisively not. It's so fucking tight that she struggles to take much of you in at first. Such small movements over the tip, tiny motions that rock her. And yet the sensation is something that could, and does, unravel you in an instant.
You're powerless to resist as she takes more and more of you into herself with each and every drive back down. Each little push, deeper inside, the further apart her thighs, and the deeper she descends, pushing herself, forcing herself, upon your cock.
You hold onto her ass, guiding her every bit of the way, rocking her rhythmically back and forth. Deeper, harder, tighter, she stretches, accommodating you until you reach as far as her tight walls will allow.
"You're gonna ruin this pussy." The sultry voice and the crude declaration cause another tremble out of you.
At that, she places both hands on either side of your head, palms flat on the sheet. Her pretty face is so close, just bobbing slightly as she fucks you. She pants heavily, her small, round breasts quiver and bounce up and down in front of your eyes.
She stays like that for a while, fucking herself on you, telling you all sorts of sweet nothings. "Gonna ride that thick cock. Love it so much, feel so fucking good." All the while, her perfectly tight ass is in your rough hands as you knead it and pull it wide.
Eventually, she throws herself back, breaking the intense stare, and making herself a spectacle again. She leans back, far back, her hand behind her for support, and gives both of you a show. Those slender thighs shake just enough to send you crazy each time she slaps them down against your waist. Her cute, shapely tits bouncing and jiggling.
"Fuck! Liz! You lucky girl! Mhm!" You're squeezing and palming her thighs roughly, fingers into flesh. Pulling her down hard, trying your damnedest to force her even tighter against you.
"Sfucking hot," A filthy compliment that is rewarded with another gasp of arousal and a short burst of bouncing as desperately fast as she can.
She slows to a crawl again. One leg moves off you, and then her hips swivel and the movement on your length is breathtaking. She's sideways on you now. One leg between yours, and the other stretched out over your body, her foot by your face.
Wonyoung is looking right at Liz now. "Watch me cum on your boyfriend's cock."
You're holding her by the leg she has over you, and you're using it as the leverage you need to buck into her while she works the lateral movement. The bed shakes and protests under your exertions. Wonyoung pulls her hands behind her neck, scooping up her hair and holding it up, so every inch of her body can be seen.
"Look. Look, Liz." Wonyoung lets out a guttural moan. A throaty, visceral noise of climax catching you off guard. You keep rolling your hips, taking in the way her body tenses and tightens and she trembles all over. "Cumming. On your. Boyfriend." She barely gets the words out as her head falls backwards and you can't take your eyes off of her, or the way she spasms on your lap.
She struggles to keep up the pace and rhythm but still tries her best, her resolve amid an orgasm is worthy of respect. You move her, this time, hands on her waist and twisting her so she faces away from you. She allows you and gasps in delight the moment you reposition her, her hands reaching for your thighs.
You continue the thrusts, with Wonyoung content now to take the punishment. You fuck her in a steady, thumping motion, the slap of skin against skin loud and ringing in the air. Her ass is marked red, compliments of the tight squeeze you had on it earlier. Her taut little cheeks bounce and shake each time you slam into her. Her own whiny moans and squeals mix and add a new melody to the atmosphere.
Wonyoung is nothing but moans now, one orgasm just cascaded into the next, and she shows no signs of stopping. Every now and then her sounds break through, becoming cries. Each time they do, you follow it up with a series of rapid slapping of hips. It's all you can do, just to keep yourself going, chasing that elusive climax that the three of you so desperately want.
Liz is fucking losing it. She's squeezing her thighs together. Grinding. Dancing in her chair. Her fingers, her knuckles, are white with strain as she holds onto the chair for dear life. She's making squeals and gasping moans too—she wants to cum so bad. It is as though her pussy is squeezing on nothing, you can imagine just how needy and wet she is. How painful it must feel, not being able to have that satisfaction that you can give Wonyoung.
"Yes, yes, yes!" Wonyoung wails out her climax with such intensity that it actually leaves her voice a little hoarse and you can't hold it anymore, you have to follow her lead. You have to cum.
So you do.
Wonyoung drags her nails across the skin of your legs as you reach that tipping point and pump a thick stream of semen into her. There is more and more, and she takes it all greedily as if there's no limit. As if she'll never be satisfied.
You let it all out, pump her full of hot, thick, semen. The release is enough that, for a while, you blank out the world. Nothing matters but the overwhelming feeling of pleasure.
Consciousness returns with you lying limp on the bed. Your head rolls to one side and you struggle to stay focused. You gaze down past your feet where Wonyoung lies collapsed, the exact same way as yourself. Still, you watch, and try to keep focus, and you do because when Wonyoung awakes she lifts her head, a sheen of perspiration glistening and flowing in droplets from her dark, silky hair and down her face, streaking her skin and flowing over her red cheeks and flushed lips.
The combination of both exhaustion and arousal as Wonyoung catches her breath causes a wonderful sight before she meets your own exhausted gaze and that smile of hers, all pearly white and perfect and so damn alluring.
"Fuck! I have to! Fuck!" Liz is rampant now, her hand reaches in between her own legs and then her legs are spread apart and you can see her furiously fingering her own pussy, the motion of her whole arm trembling and shaking. Her pussy is wet, and gleaming. And the fingers in it move and dive deeply. "That was the hottest fucking thing... I need to... Cum..."
Wonyoung supports the side of her face up with her fist, a grin on her features as she watches the way Liz acts like she's going insane, out of her mind, she just needs the cum in the worst way, the urgency apparent from the way her fingers disappear, pumping into herself.
Wonyoung starts crawling up you, to rest on you, while transfixed on your girlfriend pumping herself into oblivion. "Oh, Liz, that is beautiful," her eyes light up as she comments, "Now imagine the feel of it... His cum leaking out of me right now. Because he fucked me and not you."
That's what sends Liz spiralling over the edge.
Liz's body twists, writhes, shudders and convulses in orgasm. It's almost hypnotic, her thighs squeeze together so hard that her hand must hurt, but she just goes on and on and on, never easing, and it leaves a hot, sticky mess all over the chair and her fingers. You watch as she rides those waves of blissful gratification, all over a set of digits that aren't nearly enough to satisfy, not even for a moment.
Wonyoung brings her lips close to your face, hot breath washes over you, and she whispers quietly into your ear, "She's going to want this again, you know? Look at her, you even seen her cum that hard?"
"No, I haven't."
"Then me and you? We're going to be having a lot of sex."
#kinktember#kpop smut#Liz smut#Wonyoung smut#kpop fanfic#male reader#m reader#smut#Wonyoung x reader#IVE smut#Liz x Reader#Cuckquean
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