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creative-crybaby · 2 years ago

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A Show of Gratitude

PAIRING: timeskip!Miya Osamu x fem!reader

GENRE: wee bit of angst/comfort | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: nipple play, light manhandling, masturbation (m and f), fingering, oral (f receiving), cum eating, praise kink, size kink (kind of)

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 7.1k

SUMMARY: As a thank you for shining a spotlight on Onigiri Miya, Osamu invites you over for dinner (and dessert). All characters are 18+

Osamu raises a brow at you, though more out of amusement than cynicism. It suits him even, the somewhat teasing lift complimenting the blank expression he usually carries. His lips form a subtle pout—it’s cute, you think. It sends heat to your face, and you clear your throat before smoothing down your skirt. Who knew someone with a large build and resting neutral face could juxtapose all of that with a miniature shift in expression—

It’s been quiet for too long, you realize.

“I’ve only tried a handful of things on your menu,” you begin with a stammer, “but I still plan on trying some of the other stuff to add some suggestions for the readers. Plus, if you don’t mind, I could interview you. I’m sure you’re busy with getting everything in line, so whenever works for you works for me. You’ve only recently opened up your shop, so I’m sure me writing a piece on it could gain some attention, and—”

“Sure,” Osamu says, adjusting his cap. Your mouth snaps shut, the warmth returning, setting fire to your face as you wish nothing more than for the ceiling to crash down on you. “I already figured it’d help the shop, but I’m not too sure when I’ll be available for an interview.” He pulls his phone out from his back pocket and holds it toward you. “If yer fine with giving me yer number, I can message ya when I’m free.”

Your focus seems to care more about his Kansai dialect than his words, and you blink that pulling magnet away.

“Right, yes,” you reply as you hastily take his phone and add your number to his contacts. Your hands find each other as soon as you return the device to the handsome shop owner, twiddling thumbs dancing an anxiety-induced tango.

“Great,” Osamu nods curtly. It doesn’t help when he glances down at his screen, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards. His hooded eyes meeting yours seem to glue your feet to the ground as your knees threaten to buckle. “Ya should hear from me soon. Thanks, (L/N).”

With a mix between a nod and a bow, you leave in a hurry, teeth digging into your bottom lip to block the embarrassed squeal trying to come out.

Most would know to introduce themselves first, regardless of their profession (or lack thereof). You know this. You have done so before. But not every potential interviewee you’ve met has broad shoulders to dig your nails into or large biceps that you wouldn’t mind holding you in a chokehold or pecs that could replace both of your pillows or a slutty little waist—

Professional, you call yourself. Bullshit.

But it’s a little too late to go back and delete your contact information from his phone. Your blog, a little something you do on the side, consists of new spots in your area you’d recommend your viewers to check out. Onigiri Miya opened not that long ago, and after finishing your umeboshi (and then ordering the tenmusu, katsuobushi, tarako—you get it), your stomach achingly sent your brain the message that the shop needed more recognition.

You only caught sight of him after you asked one of the very few employees to fetch you the owner. Tired of making you more food than your wallet would appreciate, they offered a nod before heading to the back and returning with a towering figure dressed in all black, the uniform tee doing its best to remain in one piece as it hugs his body.

You didn’t notice the rice grains stuck to your cheek until he casually pointed it out. The exchange between you two after that involved more ogling than conversing on your end. And you didn’t give him your name until he gave you his phone.

Dumbass.

All of this replays in your head as you attempt to come up with questions for him. And if you manage to shake the embarrassment away, you wonder if you’ll be able to avoid making a fool out of yourself when you interview him.

Your eyes trail down to your phone on your desk. You could apologize for your behaviour, telling the ravenette something about having a lot on your plate that wasn’t his food. Maybe you should make up some excuse to back out before leaving the country with a completely new identity.

These anxieties disappear like a popped bubble when the soft vibrating of your phone interrupts your spiralling thoughts. Fumbling to grab the device, you turn it on to see you’ve gotten a text from an unknown number.

Unknown until the message lets you know it’s the handsome shop owner from earlier that day (not verbatim, of course). With your heart in your stomach and throat at once, your thumbs do a jig above the keypad as you try to come up with an answer. You didn’t have to, at least not yet, as the ellipses appear on his end, and he gives you a time and day to interview him.

After agreeing with him (and using too many exclamation points), you exchange your goodbyes.

Those interview questions can wait: you need to scream into the void. A pillow will do, you suppose.

“For the love of God, do not make a fool out of yourself.”

You stand before Onigiri Miya’s entrance, muttering and clutching your notepad for dear life. Convincing yourself that being several minutes early was necessary resulted in you showing up about half an hour before the planned meetup. Waiting outside with your eyes glued to what’s visible of its interior makes you feel like a stalker. Truth be told, you want to see him again, catch his accent again, taste his food again, have his eyes bore into your nervous frame again—

“Yer early.”

A shriek almost escapes your throat at the voice, and your head snaps to follow the familiar sound. Osamu pokes his top half from around the shop's corner, lips pursed and brows slightly raised in curiosity.

“Ah, Miya!” You stammer, straightening your posture and adjusting your notepad. “Hi! I–uh, I know I’m sort of early. I guess I thought I’d take more time getting ready this morning than I actually did.”

The smile you offer him is supposed to be an easy-going one. Though, it’s difficult being convincing when your bottom lip occasionally wobbles and the corners of your mouth twitch at every pause. Some excuse, really: he probably doesn’t believe you. You don’t believe you.

Regardless, he nods. “Sorry for scarin’ ya. I was just takin’ care of some stuff out back. Feel free to come in. Might as well start early, if yer fine with it.”

You mumble a soft verbal agreement, too afraid your voice will betray you should you say anything more. Osamu approaches the entrance to his shop, waiting for you to enter first. With a deep breath, you do so, the owner following you soon after.

It seems that the gods were on your side, even if momentarily. The interview went as well as any other one, with the exception of your not-so-subtle ogling. He’d tell you about his love for food and how he realized his passion for it over volleyball, as well as his relationship with his twin. Every bit of information you’d get, you’d fit perfectly into a mental draft, ready to type it all once you got home. Even so, your genuine curiosity didn’t shy away as he shared his story, admiring his dedication and pleased to hear about the support he received.

When everything is finished, you exchange your thanks and let him know when the piece should be ready.

“Feel free to message me if you have any questions,” you tell him as you both make your way to the exit.

Osamu nods, offering you a half-smile that’s still enough to fluster you. “Will do. Thanks again, this could really help ma shop.”

You returning his expression with an even wider grin is only natural with the flattery he throws your way. While one of your hands subconsciously picks at the strap of your bag, the other waves him off. “Well, let me publish the piece before you go saying all of that.”

“Nah,” he hums, adjusting his cap. “I read some of yer work to see what I was gettin’ m’self into. Yer gonna do this place proud, no doubt.”

Your shoes become your source of interest. You can’t let the ravenette see how his words affect you: not unless you want the poor man to call the ambulance. Two sentences had your heart trying desperately to claw its way out of your chest, pounding in your ears and face melting from the heat.

Still, when you straighten your back and look at him, you give him a smile and a nod. “That means a lot, thank you.”

Oh, look at that: you’re getting better at this.

Osamu copies your actions. “Yer blog just got a new fan. Keep up the good work.”

Nevermind. You need to leave. Like, now.

The next time you show up to Onigiri Miya is about a week after you publish your piece on it.

After doing everything in your power to not embarrass yourself, you found the writing process to be the easiest part of the entire process. Not only because you had more than enough information at your disposal, but you also got to isolate yourself in your apartment, free from distractions and attractive shop owners. Being honest about the well-prepared food and best recommendation depending on one’s tastes came easy when you tried a good portion of the menu; of course, you would do the place justice. (And, of course, you made sure you weren’t kissing too much ass in your piece during your editing process.)

Despite the shop being far busier than when you first arrived, your eye catches its owner before anything else. Behind the counter, Osamu sports Onigiri Miya’s uniform as he prepares an order, large hands moulding rice into a triangular shape with precision that shows his experience. It’s a silly detail to catch, but after the interview (and the countless ones before that), you know better than to dismiss their work as “just food.”

Your feet carry you to where the ravenette works his magic, and you’re about halfway there when he notices you.

“Ah, (L/N),” he greets, offering a half-smile as you settle onto a stool.

“You seem busy,” you quip lightly, trying to return his energy. At the very least, you deserve points for eye contact and not letting your voice waver.

Osamu’s smile morphs into a smirk as he momentarily looks away to wrap the nori around the neatly-shaped rice ball. “All thanks t’ya.”

His words have you taking in your surroundings, barely having done so when you entered the shop. It’s more or less packed, for sure, the stool you’re sitting on being one of, if not the only vacant spot for you to take. A variety of customers flood the interior, with some more peeking in from the outside: a group of high school girls seated in the corner, giggling about god knows what, a mother and her son sitting only a few seats away from your spot, a few men in suits sitting by the windows seemingly gaining energy from their food. Not a lot of people you would assume to read your blog, though you wouldn’t exactly say you had a target audience in mind based on age or gender. Regardless, the compliment feels far-fetched, somewhat undeserving.

You turn back to face him. “You’re too nice.”

“I dis’gree,” he counters nonchalantly. “I read yer work. You did this place proud.”

Heat returns to your face; if you didn’t know better, you’d assume you were getting sick.

“My blog is just a little something I do on the side for fun,” you explain. “It’s not famous or anything. Besides, you’re the one making the food here. Give yourself some credit.”

Osamu finishes the last rice ball before placing it on a rectangular plate, and an employee–a new one, you presume–takes it to bring it to a young couple sitting near the entrance.

“I do make some pretty good food,” he muses, removing his cap to wipe his forehead with his forearm.

“That’s what I’m saying,” you chuckle. “If I’m not careful, my diet might solely consist of your onigiri.”

The ravenette huffs a laugh, wiping his hands with the white cloth on his shoulder before resting his arms on the counter and leaning closer to you. “I’m not just talking about rice balls.”

An innocent correction, really. But with the small distance between you two and how his voice dropped an octave, your palms growing clammy as you gulp deeply is beyond your control.

Your fingers instinctively return to fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you attempt to find your composure. “I don’t doubt it.”

The former wing spiker pulls away with a satisfied smirk. “Great. I’ll cook for ya.”

You blink in confusion, brows slightly furrowed. “Huh?”

“Consider it a thanks for writin’ about ma shop,” Osamu explains as he gets back to working on another order. “Lemme make ya a nice meal. Not sure when it won’t be busy in the upcomin’ week, but I’ll let ya know and plan ahead.”

You don’t fully process his offer until he draws his attention to a customer. The scream that threatens to explode from your throat gets swallowed in time before you make a fool of yourself. He’s just returning the favour… to your favour… which isn’t how it works, but you’re certain he’s just being friendly. He loves food, and from what he’s seen from your blog, he knows you’re in the same boat as him. And with the soft yet genuine smile he gives to each customer he greets as they enter or as he prepares their orders, it’s tough to convince yourself his offer is anything more than one out of kindness. A tad disappointing, but it should ease your nerves for when the time comes.

“All right,” you grin shyly. “I’ll take you up for it.”

Osamu pauses from wrapping the rice around the pickled plums to face you. He beams, quickly finishing his current rice ball to place away before returning to you.

“Perfect,” he almost chirps before checking on the rice cooker next to him. “How ‘bout I make ya somethin now? Ya liked the tenmusu best, yeah?” Surprised he remembered your favourite, probably from your blog, you nod bashfully. “Great, it’s on the house.”

He winks at you before drawing his focus to your order. If you weren’t sitting down, your knees would’ve failed you.

Oh, you think, subconsciously smoothing down the skirt of your dress. You’re doing this.

Indeed, you are. And you showed up at a reasonable time (by that, you actually got there early and decided to drive around the neighbourhood for a bit until it was appropriate to park and enter the apartment complex).

It took a few days before Osamu finally texted you, letting you know when he’d be able to close up shop early to have you over. Since then, you’d keep your phone on you or nearby more often than usual, every single notification catching your attention. You almost don’t care how quickly you responded, letting him know the time and day would work for you without even checking your own schedule to confirm. (You did so afterwards: you’re good, honey.)

Getting ready seemed to surpass all that on an anxiety-inducing level, you’re pretty sure. Dinner at his place sounds like a date, yes. But he never said it was a date. You can only interpret so many social cues, and trying to recall his body language and tone as you raid your closet for something appropriate to wear does no good to your sanity. You settled for a floral summer dress in the end; not the best for the nearing autumn weather, though it’s nothing a jacket can’t fix. Words of encouragement don’t do much convincing on your end as you do your makeup and assure your reflection that it’s not too much, but it gives you something to focus on.

Those same words of encouragement, while they do make you knock on his apartment door, don’t fill the action with the enthusiasm you desperately need. Though, before you can redo it for something louder, the door opens, and there stands Osamu at his entrance.

“Hey,” he greets, a subtle upbeat in his tone. You’re not used to seeing him out of his uniform: the simple baby-blue button-down with rolled-up sleeves and black slacks combo on him does a number on you. Not a complete 180; he still appears in his element regarding comfort and accessibility for cooking. It doesn’t hurt that it hugs his torso and arms deliciously. And without his cap, you get a clearer view of his face. A full head of dark hair swept to his left, and his eyes, while a greyish colour, still carry an enticing glimmer you struggle to look away from. “Yer just in time. Food’s gonna be ready in a few minutes.”

Osamu moves aside to let you in. His home seems cozy, you think upon entering. Maybe less clean and more empty; a couple of couches and a coffee table with nothing but a tissue box on it, plus a dining table with four chairs. The kitchen seems to have most of the attention, not that it surprises you. It all makes sense for someone living by himself. He probably lives at his shop, you figure. This place is just a backup.

You thank him when he offers to take your jacket after you remove your heels.

“Ya look lovely, by the way.” His tone remains its usual steady tone, and you almost think he’s telling you what’s on TV. He’s glancing over his shoulder and placing your jacket in his closet as he tells you this, the corners of his lips tilted upwards and adding sincerity to his otherwise flat manner.

“Oh,” your eyes struggle to meet his in fear of showing how much his words affected you. “Thank you. You look handsome as well.”

You don’t get to scold yourself for sounding ridiculous because Osamu tells you to follow him to sit at the table. A deep breath: calm down, enjoy yourself, don’t stare at his ass–not even a glance, damn it!–and follow him.

The table seems mostly ready, with dishes splayed across it carrying a variety of fresh food. A traditional Japanese dinner: nothing fancy, though with the intimacy of having dinner with a handsome acquaintance (client? Either way, handsome), you’re not complaining.

“Hope this is all right with ya,” Osamu says from the kitchen. “Wanted to surprise ya with something ya’d like, but from yer writings, ya don’t seem like much of a picky eater.”

You shake your head, only to stop when you remember his back is to you. “It looks great, really. If it’s you making it, I’ll gladly eat all of it.”

He turns around with the last couple of dishes in his hands, a smile plastered on his face.

“Means a lot t’hear that,” he hums, placing the teriyaki salmon with the rest of the bowls. Once he’s settled in his spot, you both give your thanks for the meal and dig in. You don’t hesitate to grab whatever your chopsticks soar towards, from the goma-ae to a generous chunk of salmon. Only when your mouth is full do you remember you aren’t alone, and your eyes slowly trail up to meet a grey pair. Osamu’s in no better condition than you, his bowl of rice half done with a couple of drops of soy sauce stuck near the corner of his lips. Even with his natural resting face, the stark contrast between his cheeks full of food with the hint of amusement in his gaze is nothing short of adorable. “Keep eatin’ like that an’ yer gonna choke.”

You swallow in one large gulp, much to your esophagus’ dismay. “Not my fault you make good food.”

Osamu chuckles. “Gonna add my home cooking to yer blog?”

You immediately shake your head. “I’m keeping this for myself, thank you.”

“Oh, so you want me to make you food more often?”

Your eyes gradually widen at his words, your hand mindlessly twiddling with your chopsticks. Your gaze switches from the dishes on the table to your date, who doesn’t keep his eyes off you as he continues eating his food. Even with his cheeks stuffed with food, he sports a smirk, one you don’t miss.

You clear your throat before offering a nervous laugh. “Don’t put words into my mouth.”

He swallows down his bite. “So, no dessert afterwards, then?”

“I never said that,” you pout. “You’re enjoying teasing me a little too much, Miya.”

“Osamu.”

You stop yourself from bringing your glass to your lips, giving him a puzzled expression. “Hm?”

“I invited ya to ma home for dinner,” he states in between a large bite of the salmon. “No need ta be so formal with me.”

Several moments of silence are followed by you sounding out each syllable of his name to yourself. You suppose he makes a good point, though the intimacy that replaces the formality makes you fidget in your seat. If Osamu notices, he doesn’t comment.

You meet his gaze. “You do the same for me, then.”

He smiles. “Deal.”

A natural conversation flows from thereon, from you explaining how your blog came to be to him sharing embarrassing stories about his twin. Even with each tale carrying a complaint about his brother’s behaviour, you don’t miss the fondness in the ravenette’s tone as he recalls the memories. He’s seemingly the calmer one of the two, yet he doesn’t fail to make you giggle at the expense of his counterpart. (“Don’t worry, ya can laugh,” he tells you when he catches you biting your lip.) The laughter soon evolves to commentary and jokes and entertaining stories of your own, and you don’t even realize how much more relaxed you are until you’ve both finished everything from your bowls.

You exhale in satisfaction, placing a hand on your belly. “If I were rich, I’d hire you as my personal chef.”

Osamu smiles, picking up some of the bowls and motioning for you to sit back down when you move to follow his actions. “I’d gladly take the job.”

You feel guilty as you watch him move back and forth to clean up, but with every shake of his head, you find yourself obeying and keeping yourself glued to your chair.

“Because I’m your favourite customer, right?” you quip as a distraction.

“That,” he takes both your cups, “and ‘cause ya’d be rich.”

Your date peeks over his shoulder to find you fidgeting with your fingers under the table. He hears you nervously chuckle when he returns to focus on cleaning the dishes.

“So, does your brother know you use him to impress your dates?” The inquiry was more of a joke than anything else, but Osamu catches a detail you don’t seem to realize you added.

“We’re on a date now, are we?” he muses.

Silence; it puts a smirk on his face. Seeing your reaction is more than tempting, but so is dragging out the tension. The former wing spiker doesn’t remember the last time he enjoyed teasing someone like this (aside from his brother, but that’s more taunting than anything else).

He only glances over his shoulder once more when he hears you pull your chair back. You stand next to the table, seemingly wondering if you should approach him or not. Osamu has to hold back his grin.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you state, glad your voice doesn’t wobble.

“Ya didn’t answer mine,” he counters not a moment later, though the humour in his tone is evident enough. Your date turns off the faucet before removing the rubber gloves from his hands, plopping them onto the kitchen counter before striding towards you. He catches you clench your jaw, but you don’t budge. “Got a pretty sharp tongue on ya for someone so nervous not that long ago.”

You subconsciously straighten your posture as you inhale sharply. “Not gonna finish cleaning up? You were pretty insistent on taking care of things by yourself.”

He stops a foot away from you. “Nothing I can’t deal with later.”

His dark eyes bore into yours, though you’d hardly call it a staring contest. Not when your gaze would occasionally flicker down to his lips. Of course, nothing he misses.

Another step forward. He places his index finger under your chin.

Another step forward. He tilts your head up ever so slightly.

Another step forward. He leans in, stopping mere inches away from your face.

No more steps for him to take. You barely catch the sound of the faucet dripping the occasional water droplet over your heart echoing in your ears. Can he hear it, too?

None of that matters as he takes your statuesque frame as a sign to pull away. You panic; grabbing onto his shirt, you yank him towards you to meet your mouth with his.

The subtle taste of dinner lingers on his tongue, not that you can complain. Your hands find their place on his cheeks while his own wander down to your waist. A lazy hum of satisfaction buzzes out from his throat, leaving a light tingle on your lips and causing your heart to pound in your ears.

You pull away for air and from the shock of what just happened, your wide eyes meeting a droopy, lust-filled grey pair.

“Look at ya,” Osamu pants, one of his hands sliding down to your thigh. “Yer real cute, ya know that? Couldn’t stop thinking about kissin’ ya for days now.”

Your lids fall to match his expression while your thumb mindlessly caresses his face. Your mind speaks before you can stop it. “Just kissing?”

That familiar glimmer returns in his gaze, and he gently squeezes your thigh. There’s a pull coming from his hold; nothing forceful, just light enough to give you a chance to withdraw. With little-to-no room left between you, you can only press your chest against his.

“I’ve got a few other things in mind,” he hums as if pondering. “Wanna give 'em a try?”

You nod absentmindedly, your hands sliding down to wrap around his neck and play with his hair. “Please.”

His lips curl into a satisfied smirk before they reattach themselves to yours. He’s got you mewling in a matter of seconds, your fingers swirling around his locks and occasionally tugging them. Osamu groans, lightly grinding against you and making you gasp.

The hand on your thigh disappears to slide your dress straps off your shoulders, and the ravenette pulls away to tug the top of your number down to expose your breasts. His mouth attaches itself to one of your nipples while his fingers tweak at the other bud, further drenching your underwear while your grip on his hair tightens. Your body feels hot, your hips rubbing against his bulge in desperation. You draw a blank, wanting to enjoy every second, but being all over the place. And you’ve only started.

It’s when he eventually pulls away to remove your dress do you realize this is actually happening. The fabric drops to your feet, leaving you in ruined panties, and the cool air does little to fight the heat you feel all over. Large hands, roughened from years of volleyball, carefully hold you up to place you on the table, taking their time moving away from your exposed body. Those same eyes that seemingly hang in a drooping shape with indifference now do so in a hunger that has you subconsciously clenching your thighs.

“Fuck,” Osamu rasps deeply, eyes never leaving your frame as he hurriedly unbuttons his shirt and throws it aside. You’re blessed with the sight of ripples and valleys of soft skin over hard muscles with small clans of stretch marks highlighting his upper arms and what little you can see of his hips. His belt disbands with a clink, and he’s panting when he removes his slacks. “D’ya have any idea whatcha’ do ta me?”

The Kansai in him seems to shine through when he gets needy; that thought flies through your head, barely giving you time to process it. You don’t care to, not when your date approaches you once more to hook his fingers past the waistband of your underwear. His gaze peers up at you, starving, but patient enough to check on you. Your response is the rising of your hips, allowing him to slide the flimsy material down your trembling legs.

Why are they doing that? Nothing you haven’t done before. Not something you do often, either. The last time you had sex was in… college? Last year of college. Yeah, with some guy in one of your classes. His pace wasn’t all that different from this one right now. You refrain from showing your displeasure when you recall how he thought penetration alone was enough to get the job done. (It was, just not for you.)

Why these memories are choosing to return, you don’t know. Maybe you feel out of practice, or because it’ll all be over before you know it, and the handsome shop owner who made the best onigiri you’ve ever tasted will probably just be that and nothing more after this. That latter possibility makes your stomach plummet, and you bite your lip. It’s just dinner. Dinner with a crush. Most of what you know about him came from an interview.

You catch yourself looking at him when you realize he has yet to make a move.

At first, you feared it was due to disgust. It isn’t until you find him zeroing in on your dripping cunt like a man starved does your body relax a bit. His calloused hands grab hold of your thighs, lightly squeezing their fat as he drops to his knees.

“Gonna take care of ya,” Osamu mutters, seemingly more to himself than you, before swiping his tongue across his bottom lip and leaning in. “Gonna take real good care of ya.”

Settling your thighs onto his broad shoulder, the ravenette then licks a long, slow stripe up your cunt, tasting your essence and flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit. You exhale shakily, which is enough encouragement for your date to proceed with his ministrations.

“‘Samu,” you whisper, your fingers returning to his charcoal locks as his tongue’s movements against your clit increase in speed. You’re rewarded with a groan as you buck your hips into his face, and his hold on your upper thighs grows stronger to keep you grounded. With the added stability, you bring one of your hands to tweak at your nipple, adding to the pleasure and making you mewl.

Your eyes are fluttering closed until you feel Osamu’s tongue move to thrust into your cunt. You squirm in your spot with a gasp, eyes snapping open before your head drops to face the culprit. Pools of lust for irises greet you in a hazy connection, having been zeroed in on your expressions since their owner got his first taste of your essence. You’re already hot all over, head to toe, but the gaze you can’t look away from sets your face on fire—though that’s nothing new, now is it?

“Better than any meal I’ve ever had,” he mumbles against you before wrapping his lips around your puffy clit and suckling hard. Your head draws back as you wail, your hips failing to escape his grip no matter how much they writhe. That familiar build-up in your lower stomach makes itself known, causing you to whisper pleas and your date’s name repeatedly. He’s pressing his face further into your cunt, his mouth working overtime on your clit as your orgasm only hangs on by a thread.

And then, it’s gone.

Your eyes–which were apparently closed–blink open as your brows knit together. Peering down, you see Osamu slip out from your hold on his hair, that same unbothered expression back on his handsome face (save for your slick coating his lips and chin, of course).

“‘Samu!” you whine in frustration as you watch the ravenette stand up and brush the invisible dust off his knees. You don’t let his (very) noticeable bulge distract you from your stolen reward. “I was so close! What’re—”

He removes his boxers in one motion, letting them drop to the floor and wipe your brain clean of whatever you were about to ask him. Osamu observes you freeze from the sight of his girth, his face in its usual neutral stature while his gaze grows even heavier with lust and his chest and ego swelling with pride.

“Wanna make ya cum on ma cock,” he answers a little too casually, regardless of whether or not it actually answers your unspoken question. With his hand wrapped around his shaft, he swipes some of his precum, using it as lube as his focus lays on your naked form. “That all right with ya, princess?”

You nod mindlessly, your eyes never leaving his thick cock. Watching him touch himself, because of you no less, makes your hand wander south, gathering your essence and his spit before sliding a finger into your weeping hole. You shakily exhale as you catch his dick twitch, and it’s not long until you add another digit to massage your insides.

It’s also not long until a much larger hand grabs your wrist to make you pull your fingers out. Being so focused on his lower half, you didn’t realize Osamu approached you once you started pleasuring yourself. He brings your hand, wet with your slick cascading down your palm, to his mouth, languidly licking up the mess while his eyes burn a hole into your very being.

“As much as I enjoy the show,” he drawls, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, “I made ma intentions pretty clear. Unless ya suddenly changed yer mind, yer cumming on ma cock, doll.”

With that, he gently pushes your shoulder, making you lie on the table. Not exactly comfortable, but you consider it worth it as you watch Osamu position himself between your legs with his cock aimed at your entrance.

Time flies when you’re having fun, and while you were worried about this night ending far too soon, you can’t say the feelings are still there as the painful stretch consumes your body. You appreciate him taking his time for you, though it only makes the process all the more apparent: every ridge and vein making itself known as they leave their mark inside you. It isn’t until his hips meet yours do you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in.

He says your name, and you peer up at him while slowly propping yourself on your forearms. With gentle hands resting on the apex of your thighs, your date leans down you plant a kiss on your lips. You return the affection, feeling yourself relax a bit and noticing the subtle taste of you on his tongue.

You find your head following his when he pulls away, earning you a chuckle before bringing one of his hands to your crotch. Collecting your slick, he then rubs slow, tight circles on your clit. Your hips buck, and you sigh, whimpering his name in gratitude.

“You can move,” you utter. “Doesn’t hurt as much now.”

With a curt nod, Osamu grabs hold of your legs to wrap them around the small of his back. He thrusts gently, allowing you to accommodate and testing the waters to see what you like. You hum contently, though your eyes don’t seem to know where to look. Part of you wants to admire his face, but you worry about the intimacy behind the action. Marvelling at his physique, as fun as that would be, would probably make you drool; sex or no sex, you’d like to avoid that. Or, stare at where you two connect, but you’re certain you’d cum on the spot. You can’t do that. Was this always so difficult?

“Hey.” The ravenette glides his hands up and down your torso before finding their place on your breasts. “Easy. Want yer eyes on me, ‘kay? Wanna watch you fall apart.”

Your gaze shyly makes its way up to meet Osamu’s, his eyes soft while he smiles down at you. With a deep breath, you let him know he can pick up his pace. That smile of his widens as he complies, morphing your insides into the shape of his cock as he reaches deeper. The air is knocked out of your lungs, your voice choking up as you cry his name like a mantra.

“‘Samu!” you wail, tightening your hold on his lower back. “Feels good! Feels so f-ucking good! Don’t stop!”

That glimmer flashes in his eyes as you beg for him, and Osamu swoops down to crash his lips onto yours. This kiss was more tongue than anything else, and you moan wantonly as you messily taste him.

You’re hot. Everything is like touching a sizzling stove. The makeout session, the cock splitting you in half, the squelching from between your legs. There’s fog between your ears, far from clearing and presenting any sort of rationality as your date finds your sweet spot.

“There!” you pull away from him to shriek. “Keep fucking me like that! More, more!”

He can’t deny you when you plea like that, and he holds you in that position to ram into you the way you need him to. Your throat hurts from whatever noises claw out of it, though it doesn’t stop you from slurring “moremoremoremoremore” as your orgasm bubbles in your lower stomach. Or maybe all that begging is playing on a loop in your head? You don’t hear yourself; all you know of is the ecstasy between your thighs and Osamu stalking through the windows of your soul. Open for him in more ways than one.

“‘M close,” he grunts, his movements becoming sloppy. “Ya cummin’, princess? Can ya do that for me? Make a mess on ma cock like a good girl?”

You nod before processing, but you consider it the right choice when he breathes out a laugh and changes his position to lean on his forearms. There are barely a few inches between you two, and he’s quick to fix that problem by kissing you once again.

You’re squealing against his mouth when your orgasm finally hits you, your body stiff as you clamp down on his shaft. You feel heavy, rigid as your senses kick into overdrive, and you’re floating, vision grows spotty. Your head is thrown back out of necessity, your lungs in desperate need of oxygen, and Osamu’s presence alone is dizzying.

He’s still messily pounding into you once you’ve calmed down, and your legs shake against him from overstimulation.

“Too much,” you whine, “too much! ‘Samu—”

“I know, doll,” he grunts. “I’ll be done soon. Promise, I’ll—”

He cuts himself off with a curse before hastily pulling out, wrapping a large hand around his cock and pumping until he cums on your stomach with a drawn-out groan. Through hazy vision and a complimenting puddle for a brain, you watch in awe as his jaw goes slack and eyes flutter shut with furrowed brows; he almost looks soft.

Now, you’re both spent, breathing matching in rhythm as you recall your surroundings. The first thing you notice is the pain in your lower back: sex on a wooden table will do that to you, you suppose. Worth it.

Then, you’re being picked up, your body limp like a ragdoll as you yelp from the sudden movement. “‘Samu!”

The ravenette hums. “I’ve gotcha.”

Your arms, weak from carrying your weight, reach to wrap around his neck. All he does is sit on his chair with you on his lap, and he exhales.

“Is this what you meant by ‘dessert’?” you quip tiredly, leaning against him.

“Nah,” Osamu buzzes, rubbing your back soothingly. “I got somethin’ ready for after dinner, but this works, too.” You snicker weakly at his humorous tone at the end until it fades into a heavy silence. Not awkward, no, but relaxing doesn’t seem to quite fit the description, either. “It’s a date.”

You sit up too quickly, and you wince from soreness. Not that you could help yourself, what with his sudden comment. “Huh?”

“Tonight,” he clarifies, “I planned on it bein’ a date, since I think yer cute and ya helped me with ma shop—and don’t try ta argue otherwise. But with ya being so shy, I figured I’d let you decide, or maybe play into it if I thought ya were interested.” He pauses as if he were wondering what to say next. “All good if you weren’t lookin’ for that.”

You’ve never seen him blush before, and yet you find yourself regaining some energy when you catch the pink tint on his cheeks.

You giggle. “I think it’s a little late for that now.”

Osamu pulls you back into his embrace, burying his face into your neck. He tries to ignore the mess on your stomach pressed against his, though he couldn’t stop from wincing. “Guess so.”

More silence, though on the scale of comfort, it leans closer to a sense of ease.

“So,” you hum, “do you sleep with all your loyal customers or just the ones that’ll promote your business?”

Your date snorts, making the corners of your lips twitch upwards.

“Nobody else… yet.” He then pauses, pursing his lips as if to ponder. “Though ya just gave me a pretty good idea. Might help the business.”

You lightly slap his arm, earning a laugh from both of you. You try to sit up again, this time more slowly, and stretch.

“We should probably clean up,” you remark, turning to look back at where you laid back and got your guts rearranged; it makes you shiver.

“I can deal with that later,” Osamu shrugs, shifting in his seat and looking down at the creamy white now on both of your torsos. “Let’s get ya cleaned up first.”

Your heart flutters as his tone softens, and when you look back at him, his eyes carry adoration.

“And then dessert?” You ask sheepishly.

He smiles warmly. “And then dessert.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #hq #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu!!#smut #haikyuu x reader #inarizaki #miya osamu #osamu smut #osamu x reader #miya twins #onigiri miya #haikyuu smut

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stuckysdaughter · 2 years ago

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Summer Days

Tom Cruise/Reader

Summary: A hot summer day at Tom's pool leads to some fun of a different kind.

Tagging: @youlightmeupfinn

Warnings: light smut, nothing too graphic

------

Summer, 1993

It was a gorgeous day, sun bright and shining. You were spending the day at your friend Tom’s house to use his swimming pool. You would have spent the day there anyway, but it was nice to be able to cool off for a while.

At the current moment, you were laying on a pool chair, enjoying the sunshine, shades over your eyes. You hadn’t put on sunscreen yet, as you were wearing a t-shirt and shorts over your swimsuit, but you were about to when Tom walked out onto the deck. He too had sunglasses on, but he was considerably less clothed than you. Only in his shorts, he was a vision in the golden glow of the sun.

When his eyes finally landed on you, he wandered over your way. “What, not swimming?”

“I am, I just haven’t put on sunscreen yet. Do you mind helping me get my back?”

Blink and you miss it, but you could’ve sworn you saw his Adam’s apple bob. But maybe you were just imagining it.

“Uh, yeah, I can do that.”

“Perfect, thank you.”

You took that as your cue to take off your sunglasses, placing them on the small table next to you. Your shirt was next, coming over your head with ease, shorts not too far behind. All this to reveal your light blue two-piece bikini that made you feel really confident.

You might’ve been putting on a bit of a show for Tom, but he didn’t need to know that. Although you wouldn’t admit it outright, you’d had the biggest crush on him for a long time. As much as you loved being friends, you really wished it would be something more.

Your purse was down at the foot of the table, and you rummaged through it for the sunscreen. “Aha! Found it!”

Popping the cap, you passed the bottle over to Tom as you guided your hair over one shoulder. He squirted some onto his hands and rubbed them together. When you felt his hands meet your back, you had to hold back a moan. The coolness of the cream in contrast with the warmth of his hands felt heavenly.

You felt him move over your shoulders up to the back of your neck, massaging the skin as he rubbed everything in. Tom moved back down your spine, just barely grazing the top of your bikini bottoms. Once he finished rubbing it in there, he recapped the bottle and passed it back to you. Thanking him, you put it back in your purse and stood up.

"Shall we?"

He smiled, and you followed him over to the edge of the pool. You dived right in, reveling in how cool the water was in contrast to the heat. He followed suit, pushing his hair back as he resurfaced. You had to admit, he looked good like this. Not that he could ever know, of course. You both took a few minutes to just tread water, staring at each other. As if pulled in by a magnet, you both swam closer to each other until you were merely inches apart. Your breath caught in your throat. How was this going to play out?

He made the decision for you, as he pulled you into his arms. His eyes were still locked on you as one hand caressed your face. He leaned in and sealed the gap, pressing his lips to yours. You automatically reciprocated, moving in sync, arms wrapping around his neck. When you finally broke apart, he swam you both over to the edge of the pool. He hoisted you onto the ledge and climbed out. You pulled him back in again, allowing yourself to succumb to your emotions. As you kissed, he pressed you down onto the hard stone and hovered over top of you.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmured.

"Me too." You felt a heat rising in your cheeks, suddenly bashful at your admission.

You both gently smiled, realizing what this meant for the both of you. Tom captured your lips in a kiss, but this was different than before. This was full of passion, fire. And you felt yourself needing more. He seemed to get the same idea as you, you could feel his erection pressing into your core. You bucked your hips up, and you heard him let out a groan. He started to unhook your top when you stopped him.

"Should we go inside? Can't the neighbors see us?"

"No one can see us here. I made sure it's private."

"Ok, then let's do this."

You lifted your top over your head, and you both sat up to take off your bottoms. You had to take a moment to take him in in all his naked glory. He was definitely an attractive man, and he's kept himself in good shape for his movies. When he finally turned back to you, you took the chance to take charge. You gently pushed on his chest, telling him to lay back. You crawled on top of him, and slowly sunk down on his cock. You moaned at how full you felt, needing to take a moment to be adjusted to his length. When you were ready, you started to bounce on his cock, pulling moans from both Tom and you.

"So good, Y/N. You feel so good."

He leaned up and kissed you, pleasure washing over you. He moved down to suck on your neck. You could feel your climax fast approaching, the coil in your stomach tightening.

"Tom, I'm gonna... gonna cum."

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

You rolled your hips a few more times until your orgasm finally overcame you. Tom flipped you over, bucking into you until his own release came. Even in your blissed out state, you were aware of the mix of your juices dripping down your thighs. Breathing heavily, Tom pulled out of you and flopped over next to you. You turned to face him, grinning widely. His grin matched yours, and he pulled you into his chest.

"So..."

"So?"

"So... shall we move this inside? I think we could use a shower."

He chuckled, eyes crinkling. "I like the way you think."

He quickly scooped you up, and carried you inside the house to continue the fun. Which would go on for several hours... thank god for swimming pools.

------

Author's Notes: At last, the TC fic I promised. I got writer's block halfway through, but I finally finished. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. Likes and reblogs are appreciated, and comments are awesome. Requests are open, feel free to send something in. Love y'all! - Butterfly

#tom cruise x reader #tom cruise fanfic #tom cruise #tom cruise smut #reader insert

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kingkatsuki · 2 years ago

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Bakugou saves a lot of lives as a Pro-Hero, but he never truly sees the impact of it. There’s a dedicated mailing address for the Dynamight agency for fans to send in their appreciation- bag after bag delivered on a daily basis. Full of letters of thanks, pictures drawn by kids and even gifts— all addressed to the number two hero and his sidekicks.

Bakugou would be lying if he said he read through them all, and maybe he did back in the day. When he was an up and coming sidekick who’d receive maybe one a month? But now these letters were sat downstairs in his agency while poor interns rifled through them, sending back generic typed responses with Dynamight’s signature printed out at the bottom.

But it’s not as though Bakugou had the time to go through them even if he’d wanted to- every day someone new needed saving and the streets would never truly be safe. And letters, gifts and tweets never really showed him the true impact of the lives he was protecting, the people that he’d saved.

Most of the time he’d never meet the people again, the ones that he’d risked his life to protect. They’d just become another face in the crowd, just another statistic. Bakugou was good at his job, some would argue the best- so of course he’s busy. Dynamight still has so many people to protect and save.

Until one day he isn’t on patrol, he’s not even working. A rare Tuesday off where he’s just trying to go out to grab groceries. A baseball cap shoved over his messy mop of hair, thick black ray-bans blocking his eyes as he walks through the quiet streets of Musutafu. Deliberately picking an ungodly hour to get his chores done, when most people are sleeping soundly in their beds, the morning rush hour barely started as early business men make their way towards the train station to miss that morning rush. But even as he keeps his head down he’s perceptive to a fault— so he hears the villain coming before he sees them. Darting out into the road to block the large villain from surging forward, a calculated explosion spewing from his palm as his other arm wraps around your waist to protect you from the blast and from any blowback he might receive. The hardest part is not knowing what quirk his opponents have, just having to risk it all in the moment.

See. The day Dynamight saved your life it was different.

You hadn’t even realised it was him at first, if he hadn’t used his quirk you would’ve imagined it was just another civilian using their quirk for good— but you’d know Dynamight’s quirk anywhere.

You’d wanted to thank him, debating sending him a letter but it somehow didn’t feel good enough? Wondering whether he’d even remember you like that- did Dynamight remember all the people he saved? That was a lot of people- maybe he wouldn’t care at all.

You were surprised to see the Pro-Hero walk into your hospital room, a man holding a large professional camera following swiftly behind him as the flash went off repeatedly. Making you blink your eyes to adjust to the light as Bakugou lingered by your bed. His manager had told you that he was here to visit you after saving you, that there would be a news article about it and that it‘s now your opportunity to thank the hero personally. But Bakugou didn’t seem to want to be there, allowing the photographer to take a few more pictures before pushing him out of the room. You’d expected Dynamight to leave soon after, his manager had told you he was a busy man and wouldn’t have the time to stay for long. Which is why you were even more surprised when he pulled up a chair beside your bed. And he listened to your story, found out about the person who’s life he’d saved. What it truly meant— you told him when they expected to let you out of the hospital, and how much you appreciated him being there to talk to you. How thankful you were…

And from that day it felt different, personal. There was a story behind every single life he’d saved, a different reason for thanks. Bakugou began to request the letters from him saving people be sent directly up to his office. Reading through them and learning why each one was so important, smiling when he’d look at the photographs and drawings that were attached.

Kids who wanted to be just like him when they grew up.

But what had surprised you the most is seeing Bakugou waiting for you outside your hospital room when you were discharged.

#idk where I was going with this tbh #i just keep getting these ideas in my head and I just keep typing #like just being the person to remind Bakugou of why he’s a hero?#i feel like this would lead to him visiting more of the people who’s lives he’s saved???#listening to their stories and the impact #idk maybe I should just go back to writing smut lol

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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Dom!Reader - No jealousy

Summary: You and Wanda have an established relationship, and you were away for two weeks due to a mission. Wanda is testing your limits, and everyone seems to insist that you are jealous.

Warnings: (+18), Smut, Switch!Reader (most dominant reader), power dynamics change, bottom!wanda, teasing, spanking; also mentions of torture, heavy past etc.

Notes: I've been trying to bring in a little bit of dom reader, and it turned out to be a bit of switch or soft!dom reader, but it's still pretty dom I think. Let me know what you think please ‘cause i’m not sure i’m writing smut correctly haha. Nota em português: Eu fui traduzir a expressão "que baixaria" e não achei nada em inglês que tivesse o mesmo impacto, fiquei bem chateada kkkk que pegar a referencia finge que é engraçado imaginar o Bucky falando isso na cena da cozinha obrigada.

Words: 5.555 K || Read on AO3

Marks: @mionemymind @abimess

Translations: Scheiße = Shit || Amerikanischer Müll = American Trash.

//-//

Avengers Compound, New York, Present.

Throwing your jacket against the kitchen counter, you sighed in irritation.

Steve was mumbling something about responsibility and morals and you have a headache.

"Are you even listening to me?" Steve asked irritated and you let out a dry laugh as you looked around for something to drink.

"Sure, cap." You snickered without looking at him, and Steve let out an impatient sigh.

"I need you to start being careful, we can't risk the safety of the team..."

"Is anyone hurt, Steve?" You interrupted without a patient, punching the countertop. Steve was startled by your sudden response, but you didn't back down. Natasha and Bucky who were entering just behind you, exchanged glances before heading outside.

"This is not the point."

"That's the only thing that matters." You retort angrily. "I will do whatever is necessary." You assure seriously. "You worry about morality in the meantime."

Steve lets out an irritated sigh.

"You're not listening to me." He resumes crossing his arms. "There are lines we must not cross, or we are no different than those we face." He continued in earnest, and you rolled your eyes, finally finding a drink under the counter, and grabbing one of the glasses from the sink to pour yourself. "We need boundaries. If you don't change this attitude, you are no different than Hydra..."

The glass in your hand breaks, startling Steve again.

"Don't ever say something like that again." You angrily warn him and he frowns worried about the shards and that you might have hurt yourself, but you just turn and walk out of the kitchen.

You walk into the first bathroom you find, heading toward the sink to clean your hand. You watch carefully as the glass falls from your skin and the wounds close up.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror. Even though you have spent the last few hours in conflict, there is no bruise. You have even been shot twice, but no one could tell if it weren't for the torn fabric on your shirt. No one would know about the explosion you survived if it weren't for the ashes on the fabric. You were perfect fighting machine, exactly as Hydra wanted you to be.

Pushing away the painful memories that threatened to dwell in your mind, you turned off the faucet and wiped your hands, leaving the bathroom afterwards.

//-//

Hydra Military Base, Old Sokovia Area, 8 hours ago.

You rummage through the metal drawers impatiently. This mission is taking too long, and you are starting to get annoyed by the lack of action. Silence is never a good sign in jobs like this.

And then as if the universe was listening to your complaints, you heard a noise of something falling.

" Sounds to the north, I'm going to investigate." You warned your companions over the communicator, starting to move. Steve said something about waiting for reinforcements, but you were already opening the mechanical door, a pistol in your left hand.

The impact of two shots pushed you backward, and you felt something run down your uniform, and then a sharp pain. Laughing lightly, you fell to your knees.

"We got one." You heard someone mutter, and then there was a man getting up from behind a table at the far end of the room. Another man stopped hiding from one of the bookshelves, and they walked over to you.

"Sure thing, friends." You grumbled panting slightly.

"Scheiße, we got the healer." The one with the mustache muttered as soon as he looked at you closely, and you let out a smug smile as he took a step back. Your colleague was pointing his gun at you again, but you were already grabbing his wrist as you stood up and threw him to the ground.

You fought for a few moments, and you made a mental note to thank Natasha for improving your fighting considerably since the last mission, soon you knocked him out.

The other man was fighting what appeared to be a bronze door that was jammed, and you pulled the bullets out of your shirt before you pulled him by the shoulders and threw him to the floor.

" Come on buddy, I don't have all day." You warned pointing your own pistol at the man, who looked at you angrily. "Tell me what you were doing around here."

"Amerikanischer Müll" He cursed and you rolled your eyes, moving to kick him in the nose.

The man gasped in pain as he lifted his head again, his nose bloodied.

"Do you want to try again?" You asked irritated and he spat blood before speaking again.

"We come back for what is ours." He replied with irritation, and you frowned in confusion. But before you could ask anything else, Steve and Natasha rushed into the place.

Natasha was in charge of the interrogation, it was her thing anyway, and you helped Steve open the jammed door.

You entered the room next, and you choked in surprise when your gaze met the files displayed on the holograms around the place.

"So what did you find in there?" You heard Nat ask through the communicator, but you didn't answer, trying to control the anger that was spreading throughout your body.

Displayed in front of you were the files of the Maximoff twins' experiments, several pictures of the tests Hydra had run on them. One particular video caught your attention. It was Wanda, lying on a stretcher, several leather chains holding her to the mattress while Hydra sent electric shocks through a machine to her head, making her scream. You broke the projector with one punch, and Steve tried to calm you down.

"Hey, breathe." He asked raising his hands to your shoulders. You shook your head, panting.

The sound of Wanda's scream still echoed through the room, even without the image, and you grunted in anger, pushing Steve away.

Natasha blinked in surprise when you stormed into the room next, interrupting her interrogation when you kicked the Hydra agent in the chest. She took two steps back, surprised at your anger, but she barely had time to be shocked and you were already lifting the agent by his shirt in the air.

"How could you do that to them?" You asked angrily, throwing the agent to the ground. The man laughed helplessly, spitting blood. Steve grabbed you next, and you threw him across the room.

"They were always ours to play with." The man grumbled and you stepped forward again, kicking him in the face. He laughed bewilderedly, practically choking on his own blood. "Just like you."

"You'll pay for that." You muttered angrily and then punched him in the face. The man just laughed and that increased his fury. "What the fuck are you laughing at?"

The man started to choke and then he spit something out. You let him go.

"Hail Hydra." He muttered, and you had exactly one second to realize that the small device he spit out was the tip of one of the special grenades that Hydra agents have started carrying since last year. Hugging him quickly, you threw yourself against the window in front of you, and then he exploded at you as you fell through the air to the street.

When you hit the ground, you grunted in pain.

Steve is calling you on the communicator, but the explosion damaged the equipment and the noise is very disturbing, so you ripped the item out of your ear and threw it to the ground.

As your body recovered, you stayed on the ground, trying to ignore the urge to burn the Hydra to the ground for hurting your friends.

//-//

Avengers Compound, New York, Present.

Wanda was not in her room.

You let out a tired sigh as you fiddled with your cell phone, but there was no message from her about having some other commitment that would justify her not being at the compound at the time she usually was watching her favorite shows.

After you showered and put on clothes that didn't have as many battle marks, you went to visit your girlfriend, but she wasn't there.

"Friday, where's Wanda?" You asked loudly in the hallway.

"Miss Maximoff is in the northern outer area, along with Mr. Vision." Announces the AI next and you frown.

Walking towards the location that Friday indicted, you crossed your arms when you saw through the glass of the compound, your girlfriend and her teammate laughing together.

They didn't see you, seeming distracted by their conversation.

"Wow, you look scary when you're jealous." Commented a voice from beside you suddenly, and you blinked in surprise as you noticed young Peter Parker approaching.

"Missed the school bus, kid?" you tease and Peter rolls his eyes, blushing slightly.

"I'm not trying to annoy you." He says stopping beside you, and looking in the same direction as you.

"I wouldn't recommend that either." You retort, feeling an irritation settle in the pit of your stomach as you watch Vision make Wanda laugh again. What the hell was so funny.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about you know?" Peter remarked after a moment. "I don't think Wanda sees Vision that way, they're just friends."

"I'm not jealous." You lied angrily, clearly jealous. Peter didn't want to contradict you however.

"Of course not." He said slightly startled. "I just... Wanda... She... You and her are a nice couple. Even if Vision has the stone, it's not something to worry about and..."

"Shut up, kid." You grumble angrily as you turn around, deciding to calm your nerves before you lose your mind and send Vision to the moon with one punch.

//-//

Having Pietro Maximoff as a brother in law was a pain in the ass most of the time.

You liked him in general, the problem was when he teased you, because he seemed to know exactly what to say to piss you off.

When you got back to the common room, he was on the couch, playing some stupid video game, and you sat down next to him and turned on the television.

It took him five minutes before he started to annoy you.

"My sister is getting along pretty well with Vision lately, isn't she?" He comments with a smile without taking his eyes off his cell phone. You squeeze the television control harder than necessary.

"Bite me."

Pietro laughs at your aggressiveness. Wanda and Vision enter the kitchen the next moment, their laughter slowly dying down. You don't take your eyes off the TV.

"Honey, I didn't know you were back already." Wanda says as soon as she sees you on the couch, smiling as she approaches you. She kisses your cheek, and frowns at your lack of reaction. You force a smile. "What's up?"

"Relax, little sister, she's kind of green today." Mocks Pietro, and you cast him an annoyed look, before looking back at Wanda.

"I'm just tired, babe." You say, stealing a quick kiss from her. Wanda seems to believe you and then walks away, heading toward the counter.

It takes three minutes for Vision to make a stupid comment and Wanda to laugh again, and you sigh in irritation.

"Wow, that's sad." Pietro teases again in a tone low enough for only you to hear. "Maybe you should watch your girl."

"I'll stick this remote in a place you won't like." You retort in the same tone and Pietro lets out a short laugh, turning his attention back to his cell phone.

You risk a backward glance next, and then the remote control breaks off in your hand. Vision is brushing a strand of hair out of Wanda's face, and she looks surprised and slightly embarrassed by the touch. Pietro laughs at your lack of control, but you stand up next, throwing the rest of the object to the ground and attracting the attention of the other two.

You glare angrily at Wanda before leaving.

//-//

You need to punch something.

So you go back to the training room, and put on the first pair of boxing gloves you can find.

Climbing into the ring quickly, you start punching the punching bag that Steve left over from the last training session.

It takes ten minutes for Wanda to find you.

"Y/N, what was that about?" she asks slightly annoyed as you approach. You are trying to maintain control so you don't rip the punching bag off the metal stand.

"Why don't you go laugh with your new best friend and leave me alone?" You retorted and Wanda frowned in confusion, then let out a dry laugh.

"Are you jealous?"

Your next punch rocks the iron support of the ceiling.

"No, Wanda." You retort as you stop punching, and start pulling off your gloves. Wanda crosses her arms and has a little smile on her face, which irritates you even more. " I don't feel jealous."

"Oh, yeah?" She responds with irony, and you are throwing the gloves on the floor, and approaching her. She takes a few steps back, impressed by your posture.

"Tell me dear, do I have reason to be?" You ask as you approach. "Everyone wants to remind me that that damn stone makes the toaster think that you two have some kind of connection and that I should be careful." You continue and then Wanda reaches for a wall, and you rest one of your hands beside her head, pinning her against your body. "But I know better. I have nothing to worry about."

"Y/N..." Wanda starts half breathlessly, trying to keep the look in your eyes, and failing.

"Am I wrong, baby girl?" You ask raising your free hand to her cheek, stroking her skin with your finger. "Is there anyone who makes you feel the way I do?"

Wanda sighs, denying with her head next. You give a smug little smile, placing your hand on her chin, and running your finger over her lower lip.

"Then why are you laughing so hard at that piece of tin, dear?" You questioned bringing your face closer to her neck, Wanda closed her eyes as you inhaled her perfume. "Did you want to make me angry? Did you want to be punished?"

Wanda gasps low, denying with her head. You begin to deposit wet kisses against her collarbone and move your hand down her body from her chin.

"God, Wanda, you've been so needy." You comment kissing a sensitive spot on her neck and making her sigh. "Needy enough to get wet with the toaster."

Your teasing makes Wanda grunt in irritation, and you let out a short laugh feeling her tighten the fabric of your shirt.

"What's the matter, baby? Are you angry with me?" You teased, pulling your face away from her neck. Wanda looked at you with a mixture of irritation and excitement.

"Don't say such things." She says half breathlessly. "Vision is just my friend. I don't... I don't see him like that."

You stare at her for a moment, and then back away completely.

"Ask your friend to help you cum then." You retort before turning away. Wanda lets out an impatient sigh, but she doesn't go after you.

//-//

Steve Rogers is testing your patience.

He set up weekly meetings with the team about social responsibilities and hero morality and whatever other patriotic crap he was following, and this was the first of them.

It had been forty minutes since he had been talking, and you were impressed that Tony Stark was still awake.

"And so we conclude that as the Avengers, it is our responsibility to make a difference." Steve spoke as he turned off the presentation.

"I'm thrilled." You grumbled next and the room looked at you. Steve sighed.

"Do you have anything to add, Y/N?" Steve asked seriously, and you let out a short laugh.

"Oh, of course." You say crossing your arms. "Maybe the rest of the team doesn't know but this whole bullshit is only happening because of me."

"Y/N..."

"No, cap, come on." You interrupt with irony. "Tell the team why you are making everyone learn about American history."

"Now I'm curious." Commented Tony looking at Steve, who just had a tired expression.

"This is not about pointing out mistakes." Steve says and you laugh.

"No, of course not." You retort with irony getting up. "This is about hypocrisy really."

"Kid..."

"Don't even go that way!" You interrupt angrily and then turn to Tony. "You want to know what happened? Great! Let's start with the Stark bomb that dropped on Sokovia!"

Tony blinks in confusion at your outburst, and the team looks at you with surprise and concern, while Steve holds up his hands to try to calm you down.

"Please, I'm not trying to-"

"No, Captain!" You shout. "You want to talk about moral values, don't you?" You sneer with irritation. "I have a list of shit that happens in this place."

"Stop it, now!" The captain asked angrily, and you looked at him incredulously. "You killed someone!" He charges and the team looks at you in surprise. "That's not how we do things here..."

"We have killed thousands of civilians in New York." You interrupt coldly. "Every building that fell to the ground had a family on every floor. Not to mention the missions that came after." You reminded them and Steve clenched his jaw.

"That was different."

"They hurt Wanda."

"Y/N."

You shoved Steve in the shoulders, and he took a step back. Tony and Natasha stood up.

"I'm going to kill every agent that was in that lab." You tell him. "Everyone who hurt her is going to pay."

Your colleagues look in shock at your words, but you just turn away, opening the door angrily.

In the hallway, Wanda caught up with you.

"What was all that about?" She asked worriedly as you leaned against the wall, breathing hard.

"I hate the hypocrisy of this team." You retorted with irritation, but your anger subsided considerably when Wanda placed her hand on your cheek, asking you to look at her.

"Talk to me."

You sighed, touching your foreheads together.

"On the last mission, I...we found the decommissioned base where you got your powers." You count and Wanda blinks in surprise. "I lost control when I looked at the files."

"Honey..."

"Wanda." You interrupt with a weak smile. "Please, you can't agree with them."

"I don't." She adds as she strokes your cheek, "I'm just sorry you had to see it."

You shrug, letting your arms hug your waist.

"You're not angry? Or who knows, disappointed?"

Wanda denies with her head.

"I feel the same way about you." She says. "I can't think about the people who arrested you without wanting to blow up everything around me."

You laugh lightly.

"That's some shit Steve doesn't want to understand." You say next and Wanda sighs.

"I think he understands, honey." Wanda says and you blink in confusion, "It's the same thing with Bucky."

You sigh looking away.

"Shit, you're right." You grumble, and then add with a slight smile. "Maybe he was upset about the explosion."

Wanda frowns in confusion. And then she nudges you slightly when you tell her your little story with the grenade.

"Have you lost your mind?" She asks angrily. "Don't you ever do anything like that again!"

"Hey, I was saving the ass of those two mortals in the room" You complain humorously, but Wanda sighs impatiently.

"My god, this is all just because Steve must have been worried to death that something was going to happen to you!" She says and you frown.

"What are you talking about?"

"Honey, the captain is just trying to get you to behave." She clarifies. "He doesn't want you to abuse your powers, and put yourself at risk for no reason. Honestly, I don't want to either."

You stand thoughtfully for a few minutes and then sigh.

"Damn, now I'm going to have to apologize."

Wanda makes a noise of agreement with her mouth and moves closer, stealing a quick kiss from you. She smiles when you try to kiss her back, pulling away.

"What?"

"I remembered that I'm mad at you." She says and you look at her with confusion.

"What did I do?"

"That scene earlier in the gym." She says and you sigh impatiently. "It wasn't nice."

"You're being so mean." You retort and Wanda flashes you a small smile before turning away, walking in the opposite direction.

You decide that you should apologize to the rest of the team and return to the conference room.

//-//

Wanda was being a brat.

After you apologized to the team, and Steve made it clear that he was concerned and that he understood your anger, but that there were better ways to deal with what Hydra did to the people you love, the atmosphere eased a lot. And you were hoping to spend some time with your girlfriend, but she was too busy teasing you.

She spent the last few minutes cooking with Vision. The guy who didn't eat food.

You rolled your eyes impatiently as you threw yourself on the couch, a newspaper in your hands.

"This is ridiculous, honey" You mentally warned her as you noticed her gaze on you. Wanda didn't sketch any reaction as she cooked.

"Sorry, weren't you the one who said I was, what was the word, needy?" You heard her sneer in your head. You bit your lips to keep from smiling.

"Clearly you are, dear."

"And whose fault is that?" She retorted and you frowned, attracting the attention of Bucky who was standing next to you. You smiled slightly, telling him that it was just a news report about the new political changes that had taken your attention, and then turned your focus back to the newspaper.

"What are you talking about?" You asked Wanda in your thoughts.

"You were gone for two weeks." She complained, and you took your eyes off the paper to look into the kitchen. Wanda had her back to you, stirring with a spoon in one of the pots. Vision stood next to her, watching the procedure. You clenched your jaw. "I've been all by myself."

"Are you trying to piss me off, Wanda?" You ask angrily, watching the redhead meters in front of you signal for Vision to come closer to take a look at the pot.

"I'm not doing anything." She thinks sounding harmlessly, and you close the paper tightly as you watch Vision cast her a shy smile.

Bucky looks at you curiously.

"Everything okay?" He asks and you nod as you stand up toward the kitchen.

"Wanda, I want to talk to you." You tell her stopping with your arms crossed in front of the counter. Wanda flashes you a little smile.

"I'm busy right now, honey." She retorts as she returns the spoon to the pot, stirring the mixture.

"We're making Sokovian food." Completed Vision with a smile, but you completely ignored him.

"I'm going to count to three." You warn and Wanda swallows dryly, looking at you.

"I don't..."

"Room now, or I'll make you cum against the kitchen counter."

Wanda's eyes widen, and Vision looks extremely surprised. The redhead ducks her head and walks out of the kitchen, you following her. Bucky mumbles something like "for the love of god, why all that obscenity" as you leave.

//-//

There is a palpable tension in the air during the silent walk to your room.

When Wanda opens the door and walks inside, you sigh as you close the door.

"What was that in the kitchen, dear?" You ask her as you unbutton your shirt, Wanda looks at you next, biting her lower lip in anticipation. "Insinuating that I don't pay enough attention to you. Teasing me with Vision."

"I'm sorry." She mumbles softly and you shake your head slightly, taking off your shirt and standing in just your bra. Wanda blushes and takes a step toward you, but you just hold up your finger.

"I'm going to be in charge tonight, honey." You warn as you take off your shoes. "By the way, you do look a beautiful thing in that skirt. I could barely control myself during the meeting."

Wanda smiles with embarrassment, looking away to the floor. You approach, lifting her chin with your finger slowly.

"Can I undress you?" you ask and she sighs softly, nodding afterwards. You drag your finger from her chin down, around her silhouette. When you get to shoulder height, you drag the left strap to the side, and then repeat the motion on the right. Wanda's blouse loosens on her body, and you watch her chest rise and fall rapidly, her breathing out of rhythm.

You raise your other hand next, and turn your gaze to Wanda. In a twist of your hands, you tear the fabric in front, and Wanda moans softly.

"Are you anxious, baby?" You ask her as the fabric falls away, and you run a finger down her torso to the hem of her skirt. Wanda swallows dryly. "You must be so wet."

Wanda sighs, closing her eyes momentarily. You begin to remove your skirt next, and let out a low growl when you realize there is nothing underneath as the material falls away.

"Wanda, Wanda, Wanda." You scold her maliciously, looking at her exposed intimacy and feeling your mouth fill with water. "Absolutely sinful."

Wanda sighs, moving slightly forward. You bite your lips, noticing her red cheeks. Her body cries out to be touched.

"That's no way to behave, honey." You tell her, lifting your fingers to push up the straps of your bra. "Exposed during a team meeting. Tsk, what a naughty girl."

Wanda whimpers, and you smile. "Is that what you wanted, babe?" You ask as you unzip her bra. " For me to put my fingers in you under the table? Make you come in my hand while everyone watched?"

"Please." She sighs in a husky voice. "Kiss me."

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

You give a little smile at your girlfriend's breathless confession, and lower your face to the height of her neck, just as her bra falls to the floor. Depositing wet kisses all the way down, you listen to Wanda sigh with each touch of your lips against her skin.

When you reach her breasts, you raise your right hand to play with the hardened nipple between your fingers while using your mouth on the other breast, and Wanda throws her head back, moaning with her mouth open. Sucking and licking the flesh, you delight in the sounds you get from her.

"Babe, please." She pleads breathlessly. "Touch me."

You smile as you release her hardened nipple, raising your face to the height of Wanda's.

"I'm sorry, baby, but it's not going to be that easy." You warn as you squeeze her breast with a full hand. "You need to be punished for today."

Wanda sighs and then you kiss her intensely, making her stumble back, but your hand on her waist holds her against you.

Your tongue invades her mouth, and Wanda moans against your lips, her hands moving up to your neck. You smile as you lift your hands to hers to put them down.

"You can't touch." You warn between kisses and Wanda sighs, letting your tongue tangle in hers sensually.

You begin to lower your kisses again, and Wanda writhes against you, her fists clenched in an effort to resist the urge to touch you. You lick the length of her neck and one of her hands touches your waist.

"What a disobedient brat." You tease against her skin, and then use your right hand to slap her ass, making Wanda moan loudly. You wish to see the mark, so you hug Wanda around the waist, bringing your bodies together, and look down. The bright red mark. Wanda whimpers against you, her other hand coming up to your belt, and you pull away only to kiss her on the lips hard enough to leave her helpless.

As she begins to play with the beam of your belt, you slap her ass again, on the other side, and her knees buckle slightly.

"Fuck." She whimpers breathlessly, and you bring your hand to her neck, forcing her to keep her gaze on you.

"Get on the bed." You command and Wanda sighs, and then you release her. She moves to the mattress, ass thrusting toward you as she kneels on the bed, hands on the headboard.

"Will you be a good girl, Wanda?" You ask as you raise your hands to her ass, squeezing the flesh as she gasps.

"Yes."

"I don't believe you." You taunt, slapping her ass. She leans over, moaning. You spank her again, her body arching as she throws her head back, moaning with her mouth open.

Then you move forward, pulling her hair back as a hand slips between her legs, your fingers teasing her entrance and making her whimper.

"Look how wet you are, baby." You whisper against her ear, Wanda has her eyes closed tightly, her hips moving in search of more friction. "Were you missing me, love?"

"Yes." She gasps pushing her hips back, your fingers slipping inside and drawing sighs from both of you. But you withdrew them next, s Wanda whimpers. "Please, honey, touch me."

"You don't deserve it Wanda." You start against her ear. "But you feel so good, baby. So wet and hot, I can't resist."

You suddenly penetrate her with two fingers, deep and precisely, and Wanda cries out, moaning your name.

"Fuck, yes." She gasps moving her hips, you slide in and out with ease, feeling Wanda flushed.

"Look at you baby, crumbling in my fingers." You gasp, your hand releasing her hair as you drag it to her breast, squeezing the flesh.

"I...I 'm com..." Wanda begins to whimper and you smile, feeling her body quiver in spasms, the rhythm of her hips disablisting as her walls get tighter and you feel her pulsing in your fingers.

"Cum for me, baby girl." You whisper in her ear, and one stroke later is all it takes for Wanda to arch her back, coming on your fingers with her mouth open as she screams your name.

You withdraw your fingers as she falls to the mattress, turning to you next. Bringing your fingers to your mouth, you taste Wanda as she looks up at you with dilated pupils.

"You taste so good babe." You tell her with a smile, and Wanda raises her hands to your waist, asking you to climb on top of her.

You slowly shake your head, reaching up to remove your pants. Wanda bites her lips as she watches you undress.

"I want to show you something, honey." You tell her after removing your clothes, straightening to sit on her thigh. Wanda sighs as she feels your wet intimacy against her. "Do you like that?" You ask watching her reaction, Wanda raises her torso, bringing your faces closer together as her hands go to your waist. "Do you like how wet I get on top of you?"

"Fuck yes." She gasps against your lips, you begin to move against her thigh, feeling your eyes spin in their orbit with the sensation.

"What about you, Wanda?" You ask slipping your fingers into her again,making her bury her face in your neck. "Look at that baby, you're soaking wet too."

Wanda moans, her hands tightening around your waist as you feel your fingers in her. You increase the speed of your movements against her thigh at the same rate as your fingers move in and out of her, Wanda begins to force her hips to keep up.

"No one makes me feel like this, Wanda." You confess breathlessly, penetrating deep. "I am yours."

Wanda moans and forces herself to confess.

"And I am yours." She retorts groaning, and you feel her walls tightening in your fingers as the feeling at the tip of your stomach tightens.

"Let's cum together baby" You tell her breathlessly, and Wanda shudders nodding. Forcing your hips against her thigh, you gasp, trying to keep the rhythm in your fingers.

A few strokes later and you struggle to keep up, your body shaking in spasms. Wanda tightens her hands on your waist, forcing you down as you move in and out of her. Wanda begins to curse in Sokovian, moaning breathlessly, and you smile, feeling your eyes roll. And then you cum together a moment later.

You collapse against her, as Wanda falls onto the mattress. Depositing lazy kisses against her collarbone, you smile as she sighs, her fingers running up your back as you pull out of her.

"Was that enough attention honey?" You tease a minute later and Wanda laughs softly, biting her lips.

You raise your head to look at her, feeling your heart soar at the image of her lazy gaze, her lips puffy and parted.

"Do you love me?" You ask in a whisper and Wanda sighs.

"I do." She agrees and you raise your hand to her neck, your fingers strolling along her chin.

"Show me."

Wanda nods moving forward to kiss you on the lips.

#wanda maximoff #wandaxreader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #bottom!wanda #bottom!wandamaximoff #dom!reader #softdom!reader #smut

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years ago

Text

counter point, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You enrage your perfect boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook, by being overtly sexual and inappropriately licking your kitchen counter. Why? Because you can and he's going to get horny regardless. He's going to chase after you with a spoon, so you better run!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; playful banter and shitty jokes; actually low-key crack and fluff; shower smut (fem reader, handjob, thigh riding, nipple play, marking / scratching, fingering, multiple orgasms, one pussy slap); too much wasted water, RIP; non-idol!BTS; the parenthesis are the reader’s inner thoughts; please help Jungkook, he's just trying to eat shaved ice, not pop a boner (he does anyway)

yes, the title is a pun it's the best laid plans couple and they're crackheads no need to read the first one, but it's there if you want more

“Don’t.”

You grinned at your boyfriend (Cheshire-cat-style, but make it sexy).

“Listen to me, do not do it.”

You extended you tongue (lizard-style, still sexy).

Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend currently making shaved ice, narrowed his dark brown eyes at you and barked your name sharply (angry-mother-scolding-their-child-style, but make it the hottest man on the fucking planet who you were down to get railed by every second of every day). His ash-blond hair flared out around his strong features, adding to his (horny) fury.

He could pretend to be mad, but you knew better.

You licked the kitchen counter.

“Fucking damnnit!”

You cackled as you licked the fallen syrup and ice combination that was on the kitchen counter, slurping up the fallen solider (a valiant fight, but Jungkook had missed the bowl by accident and he deserved an honorable death).

“I told you I was getting a towel!” Jungkook hissed furiously, shaking the white towel with the cute pink bunny character on it. “Don’t be a nasty heathen!”

“What’s nasty about our kitchen counters?” you countered (ey, yeah, see what happened there). “We clean them all the time.”

You leaned down again and licked the counter, pressing your tongue flat against the granite and making Jungkook growl, to which your responded with wiggling your eyebrows. He shook the towel at you again, but didn’t advance.

“Back, you fiend.”

You straightened and grinned, sauntering over to him and the towel he was using like a rosary and you were the demon he was trying to exorcise (he wasn’t pure enough to be a priest, but then again, that might be your fault).

“But I need the towel to clean up the mess,” you chirped, grinning cheerfully as you closed your hand around the cloth, holding it for a little too long, letting your eyes linger on his tense face, taking in his chiseled jaw, shapely lips, and flashing dark brown eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

You smiled.

Ran your tongue over your upper lip.

“Like what?”

Jungkook looked like he wanted to murder you and fuck you.

(Not at the same time; that would be some serial killer shit.)

“Stop fucking teasing me when you’re not gonna do anything,” he grumbled, pouting slightly as you snatched the towel from him and wiped the counter that you had already licked clean.

“Who, me?” you replied innocently, grabbing the sponge to clean off the granite before wiping the spot once more. “I would never, ever tease you, Jungkook.”

He narrowed his eyes at you until they were lines and jammed his spoon into his shaved ice. “You never wanna fuck right after I work out.”

“Speaking of working out.” You pointed to his large bowl of shaved ice covered in syrup. “Should you have sweets right after working out?”

He clicked his tongue. “I drank my protein shake and I’m hot. Leave me alone.” He shoved a large spoonful into his mouth, still glaring.

(Oh, you’re hot, all right.)

“What a coincidence.”

Jungkook’s eyes shifted in suspicion as you spun around him. “Do I wanna know what’s a coincidence…?”

“I’m also hot.”

And you grabbed the bottom of your oversized sweatshirt (it was his) and pulled it up and over your head, leaving you in your underwear. You threw it at Jungkook’s crotch before prancing out of the kitchen.

“Alright, first of all–”

“Lachimolala,” you sang nonsensically, heading off to the bedroom. “I thought you wanted to be alone?”

Jungkook stomped after you, clutching his bowl and still shoving shaved ice in his mouth as he very loudly put in his two cents and pointedly ignored your comments (a skill he developed while dating you, mysterious why that would be).

“I know you’re hot, you’re insanely hot and that’s not fair, and, second, you can’t just take off your clothes and expect me not to follow you, and, three, let me fuck you, damnnit!”

You stuck your head out of the bedroom door and your tongue out of your mouth. “No. You stinky.”

Jungkook looked livid, still holding his spoon and bowl. “Don’t make me put this spoon down, woman.”

“Oh nooooooo, Jungkookie has a spoon, oh nooo!”

“Gimmie those titties! Get your ass over here right now!”

You ran to the bathroom and turned the water on, throwing off your underwear in record time, only for Jungkook to show up and get smacked in the face with your bra and panties (awesome, your aim was improving, all those hours playing FPS games was a sound investment).

Jungkook snarled and shook his head, blond hair flying everywhere, holding his bowl of shaved ice protectively as your underwear scattered around him. He looked ready to scold you, only to freeze and see you standing at the open glass shower door, fully naked.

Grinning.

(Checkmate, he totally wanted to bone you. His shorts were doing nothing to hide his massive tent.)

“See ya.”

And you slunk into the shower and hot water, snapping the door closed behind you, Jungkook fuming and crossing the space in two steps (damn, can you say legs, holy shit) and yanked open the shower door.

“You fucking brat–”

You smirked, water running down your body, tipping your head back to soak your hair, reaching up to slick it back with your tits up. His dark brown eyes ballooned to the size of Dragon Balls (those are pretty big balls, no cap). His shaved ice was rapidly melting from the steam.

A full ten seconds past.

(Kinda cold, bro, please close the door.)

You maintained your smirk, rolling your shoulders to cascade water down your body, down your breasts, dripping off your nipples, curling around the curve of your waist, streaming in rivets across the expanse of your thighs and ass, doing a little half-spin. Jungkook choked a little, eyes completely fixated to your body. You (completely unnecessarily, of course) placed a hand in between your breasts, splaying out your fingers, gliding it down your stomach, making a detour for your hip, sinking your nails into it (his bowl was tipping very dangerously now and the ice was half-gone), curving back to the inside of your thigh and squeezing your thighs around your hand.

(Okay, for real, you can close the door now, Jungkook.)

“Your shaved ice is melting.”

Jungkook started, picking up his jaw off the floor, and whipped his head to his bowl of now sweet ice water. He closed the shower door (finally!) and you breathed out a sigh of relief, finally wiggling under the showerhead to wash away the goosebumps and your frozen tits (you suffered for a good cause, but still), hearing your boyfriend straight-up slurp the rest of his shaved ice (it was practically a drink by now anyway). You pumped some shampoo in your hand and casually started working it into your hair before half-screaming as the door opened again and a very naked, very horny Jungkook invaded your personal space and pinned you against the shower wall.

(You weren’t expecting his speedrun of stripping, that must have been a fucking record!)

You blinked rapidly, trying to swipe the water out of your eyes.

“Jung–”

You didn’t expect to get anything out but you said one syllable before his lips crashed onto yours, spraying water everywhere as he half-entered the raining showerhead (still a bit stinky, tsk tsk), pressing his body against yours, jabbing you with his rock-hard dick (rude). You yelped in his mouth, but he didn’t seem to care (probably thought you deserved it, rude), taking your tongue and sucking on it, making you moan, driving his thigh in between yours and pushing it up, water suddenly gushing onto your heat and then hard muscle, you gasping at the contact, tipping your head back with a soft whimper.

Opening your eyes to a slight sting and Jungkook’s half-wet hair, dark silvery-blond curls around his smirking face, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Not so high and mighty now, hm?”

(Fuck, he’s so fucking hot.)

Your eye began to sting very badly.

(Shit.)

“There’s shampoo in my eye,” you choked out.

“Oh shi–”

There was a brief intermission of water torture as Jungkook shoved your head under the showerhead and you did the awkward dance of one eye half-open, half-closed, rinsing out the soap residue while holding your breath and trying not to drown (beauty, grace, and blindness, the trifecta, right?). You yanked your head out with a gleeful sucking in of air, pushing your hair away from your forehead.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked worriedly.

“Why is no-tears shampoo only for babies?” you complained, wiping your eyes. “Don’t they know horny adults get accosted in the middle of showering sometimes and need that shit? They need to put a warning or I’ll sue.”

He laughed, rich, full, and wonderfully sexy. “I don’t think you’d – ah!”

The second Jungkook let his guard down, you grabbed his dick (sucker), and started pumping him with a flick of your wrist, grinning wildly. He gasped and tried to back up, but you pinned his thigh in between yours and rubbed your slick pussy on his muscle, causing him to sway slightly and plant his hands on the wall beside your head, gasping your name.

“O-oh, fuck…”

You used your other hand to grab his chin and pull him closer, kissing him hungrily, a slightly awkward angle but it didn’t matter because you had him in the palm of your hand now (literally), jacking him off with one and the other stroking his jaw, shuddering at his tongue flitting in your mouth, snaking your own out to meet his, fuck, such soft lips, and he still tasted a little sweet from his icy snack lingering on his tongue. Your hand slid back and cupped his head, fingers in his wet ash-blond hair, rolling your hips on his leg and pumping his swelling length in the other, getting him extra hard again, both of you moaning at the lovely pop of the head being squeezed by your thumb and index, before going right back to furiously kissing as you increased the speed and pressure.

Jungkook always complained about how you never worked out with him, but you always rebutted that said workouts never started because you two were too busy eating face.

(Also, why work out when you can fuck? More fun, more pleasure, less hating yourself as you complete the thirtieth sit-up. Clearly, your boyfriend failed to see the logic.)

“Jungkook, ah…”

One of his strong hands around your waist, arching your back, kissing down your neck, matching your pace with his hips, moaning into your skin, raising his leg even higher as he leaned down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples. Now the angle was really awkward, but you refused to give up, readjusting slightly, faster, harder, his mouth all over you, sucking hard, whimpering your name, your arm burning (and he wondered why you had biceps, sheesh), and you clamped his thigh in between yours, the real pleasure being how Jungkook moaned, throwing his head back, your name tumbling from his lips, so sexy with his dripping blond locks stuck to his cheeks, tendons standing out on his neck with the strain, thrusting into your hand to increase the pleasure and your arm was going to give out any second now but you just couldn’t, not yet.

“So fucking sexy,” you panted, your free hand tracing his jaw, shoving your thumb into his open lips, sinking your nails into his cheek because he was yours, all yours, and he didn’t care if you marked him up, his eyes rolling back, loving your roughness, wanting it. “Cum for me, come on, Jungkook,” you growled, even faster, even harder, thumb pressed into his lolling tongue and he whined, deep and feral, a mixed gargle of your name and pure ecstasy, cock jerking in your hand, spilling out over your thigh and the shower wall, hot sticky strings before being washed away, you dragging his face to yours, removing your thumb to kiss him again, sighing in relief now that you could slow, squeezing his twitching cock, feeling it drip down your fingers and smearing it all over his now-sensitive skin.

“So good, fuck, you’re so good…”

His hands all over your back, running his nails up and down, ravenous, messy kisses. Your hand stilled, arm burning, but somehow it didn’t matter, adrenaline and lust too much, and you wanted to hold him too, snaking your arms around his waist and digging your nails into his broad back, both of you moaning in unison as your ran lines of pleasure across each other’s backs, hips to hips, wet bodies rolling into each other, your drenched pussy on his hard thigh and his spent cock against your soft thigh.

“My arm almost died,” you gasped, his nails raking down to your hips, sinking into your ass.

“Heh, sorry,” Jungkook snickered (you suspected he wasn’t very sorry). “That’s what you get for teasing me.” (And you were right, hmph.) “This is why you should work out.” (This guy…)

You raised an eyebrow. “So I can make you cum in literal seconds? Your funeral.”

He paused, shifting his eyes. He seemed to be mentally struggling with the idea. “You look so fucking hot in workout clothes though,” he pouted, leaning down to press his chin against your breasts.

Uh oh, Jungkook was giving you puppy eyes now.

“I can wear workout clothes without actually working out,” you frowned. “And you never let me work out anyway because you’re too busy ogling me, and then you jump me mid-squat.”

He groaned, kneading your ass in his hands. “Your ass just looks so fucking good in leggings though… and the way your tits bounce, fuck…”

(Hello, Jungkook? You could, maybe, just look at the naked wet body in front of you right now instead of fantasizing about working out. What is your malfunction?)

You yelped as he buried his face into your tits, tongue snaking out and drawing thick, saliva-covered stripes over your breasts that were quickly washed away, whimpers in your throat once you saw the hungry look in his eyes, his pink tongue now circling your nipple, lowering his leg from between yours, your hands flying up to hold his head onto your chest.

“Ah, Jungkook, please…”

His lips closed in and his fingers grazed your slick slit, pressing circles of pleasure into you, leaning your head against the shower wall, back arched to give more to that perfect mouth, moaning his name, his fingertips finding your clit and rubbing it slowly, working you up, sucking your nipple and flicking it with his tongue, waves of pleasure and hot water enveloping you, pushing his wet hair back to look into those dark chocolate orbs, clouded by lust and his desire to make you feel good, already knowing that when you rocked your hips you wanted more, already knowing that when your noises became shallower, more needy, that you needed it harder, closing your eyes, faster, hot and warm from Jungkook and water.

“Yes, fuck, yes, so close, so good, Jungkook, ah, Jungkook!”

You felt the flinch of overwhelming ecstasy, immediately trying to close your legs but he blocked you, planting his thigh between yours to prevent them, your moan turning into a feverish whimper, clutching his shoulders.

“J-Jungkook, w-wait, oh, f-fuck…”

He wasn’t waiting, still stimulating your now throbbing clit, lifting his head to press his lips to yours, whispering hotly, you’re so sexy, so beautiful, I love you to so much, fuck, your brain barely computing language, w-what, oh fuck, yes, don’t stop, Jungkook, I love you, fuck, so good, his soft smile on your open lips as your moaned once more, ramming your hips into his hand, eyes rolling back, pleasure shooting up from your core, and Jungkook’s fingers plunged into your wetness, moaning with you, stuffing you with three because you were so, so wet.

“Fuck my hand, come on, wanna feel you…”

You heard hand (seriously? alright, your funeral, Jungkook), and enclosed your fingers around his now hard-again cock.

“Wait, w-what – ah, fuuuuuuuck…”

Your misinterpretation seemed to be a welcome development, your hips moving on their own, pussy clenching around his fingers, your hand a vice around his hard, swollen length, his hips thrusting into your closed fist, and now both of you just chasing pleasure, wet, loud, and hot, the water adding to the noise, skin on skin, your pussy making embarrassing sucking, squishing sounds paired with the rapid slap of your vicious pumping of his cock, feeling so good it was hard to speak, but it didn’t matter because your lips found his lips, and you could tell by his trembling inhale and soft whimpers that he loved you, and he could tell from your breathless gasps and desperate whines that you loved him, and all that made it more intense, better, sexier, perfect.

Your name in that silvery, needy tone, followed by, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

His name, followed by, “Shit, me too, fuck!”

(Maybe not your best work, oh well.)

You slapped your hips into his hand, burying his fingers all the way to his knuckles, and groaned, scorching ecstasy overtaking your veins, sparking up your spine and into your head, squeezing your thighs together powerfully, clamping his wrist in your softness. His cock jerked, his gasp in your face as he spilled again, all over your hip and thigh, jamming the throbbing head into your skin and moaning as his orgasm continued spurting out, pulsing, his moan turning into helpless cries as you rubbed the tip on your skin, smearing his cum onto you, his scent so strong you could still smell it despite the water washing it away, loving the way his hard, muscular body felt against you, shivering and vibrating with pleasure, unable to help himself, practically humping your leg to prolong the sensitivity.

Heavy, shuddering breaths.

Water tumbling down, somehow far too hot even though it was getting lukewarm.

(Rest in peace the water bill.)

“Uh… my hand…”

You tensed around it. “I like it here.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, frowning. “I’m getting a hand cramp.”

You bit your lip and clenched your core muscles, making him gasp.

“Fuck, I love how tight your pussy can get. Feels like you’re going to break my fingers.”

You relaxed, laughing. “That’d be a fun trip to the emergency room.”

He snickered and leaned in, kissing you softly. “I love you.”

You relaxed your thighs and he pulled his fingers out. “I love you too, Jungkook.”

You squeezed the head of his dick mid-kiss and he slapped your pussy in response, making you gasp.

“Brat.”

(Hello, you two, you’re wasting water… aw, shit, here we go again.)

2021.09.01 - birthday drabble

in which jjk attempts to direct porn and you proceed to clown him until he shuts you up by fucking your brains out well dressed

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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drcalmreid · 4 years ago

Text

the dugout - s.r.

pairing: spencer reid x female reader

summary: smut - post-baseball practice spencer fulfills a fantasy of y/n’s

content warning: NSFW 18+!! pure smut lol

word count: 3.2k

authors notes: so mmmm….chile anyway enjoy ;)

gif credit: @thegifs-queen

YOUR POV

“Alright kid, you gotta get out of your head,” Morgan says, wiping a hand on the back of his sweatpants. He squats down in front of the pitcher’s mound and grabs the baseball Spencer just tossed back to him,

“Just swing hard and follow through. There’s no mathematical equations, just swing.”

“Okay fine,” Spencer huffs looking down at his converse. “But according to recent studies, most major league teams employ mathematicians in order to pinpoint crucial angles, velocities, distances, and overall mathematical equations that are needed to create the ideal outcome of a baseball game,” Spencer says squinting at Morgan even though his hat shields his eyes from the sun. He stands at home plate with the wooden bat between his legs and his hands resting on the barrel. Derek rolls his eyes at Spencer and gives him an of-course-you-know-that head shake and walks back to the top of the pitcher’s mound. He tosses the ball into the pitching machine and Spencer swings and misses, again.

“We really have to watch this?” Emily leans over to whisper in my ear, “It’s just too painful to watch.”

“I know,” I shrug, pursing my lips together before giving her an empathetic smile. “If you don’t want to stay you don’t have to, I’m sure they’ll be done soon...I can meet you at Garcia’s.”

“Really?” She says in the most excited tone she has had the entire time we’ve been here. “Thank you,” she sighs and reaches for her coat on the bleachers before climbing down them. “You look great out there boys, but Garcia is hounding me to help her set-up! I’ll meet you over there!” Emily smiles one last time and waves to Morgan and Reid before practically running to her car before any of us can stop her.

“See,” Spencer says, taking off his baseball cap and running his hand through his hair. “We’re losing our audience. That’s how bad I am.”

“You need some motivation, Kid.” Morgan says pounding the baseball into his mitt, “It could be those mathematical baseball facts you know, the idea of beating the local PD in this game...” his eyes shift to me in the stands and I perk my head up, “or (y/n)...whatever it is, use it.” His phone rings from his pocket and he reaches inside before picking up, “What’s up, baby girl? We’re almost done here, then--woah woah, slow down. I’ll be right there.”

Morgan hangs up his cell phone and shrugs at Spencer, “it’s your lucky day. Garcia is requesting I come help set up the party tonight for Hotch...which I thought Prentiss was supposed to be doing,” he turns to glare at me.

“I know nothing!” I yell from the stands. I rise from the bleachers and walk closer to the fence.

“Either way, I’m needed ‘urgently, like now’ by Garcia,” Morgan chuckles using air quotes around what I can assume is a panicked Garcia needing her Chocolate Thunder. “So, we can pick this up tomorrow?” Reid presses his lips together in a tight lipped, straight smile before nodding. Just like that, Morgan grabs his bats and glove and disappears into the parking lot, “I’ll see you two over there!”

I climb down from the stands and walk closer towards the dugout. Spencer grabs the spare bat Morgan gave him off the ground and uses it to tap the sand off of his converse. Just as I reach the doorway of the dugout, Spencer enters the other side near the field.

“Hey,” I grin at Spencer as I lean against the cool cement walls.

“Hi,” he smiles back and his eyes quite practically light up when he sees me. To be honest, I’m not sure if he’s more excited to see me or to just be done with Morgan’s baseball practice.

The clay colored dirt collects on the dugout floor, dust raising from it as Spencer steps forward. He sits on the metallic bench against the wall, the bench stretches the length of the dugout and reflects the sunlight from the setting sun. Something about the way Spencer looks sitting down in the dugout, with his hair pushed back in his cap, white button-up loosened around his collar since his tie has been tossed aside since the beginning of practice. His biceps flex slightly as he reaches for his briefcase next to him on the bench (grabbing the hand sanitizer inside the case that he insisted on bringing), his collared shirt rolled up to his elbows exposing his tanned skin....He looks so fucking good.

“So, on a scale of 1-to-listening to me explaining the newest metabolic engineering studies, how bored were you watching me practice today?” Spencer jokes, leaning forward to brush the dirt off his pants.

“Mmm, I would have to say,” I humm and step forward away from the entrance, sitting down on the bench directly next to Spencer. “Waiting for you to come out of the coffee shop, but I forgot my book at home.”

“That bad, huh?” He laughs and I lean down pressing my head to his shoulder. I shake my head and place a kiss on the top of his shoulder. “Not that bad, anything with you is never bad,” I smile, looking up at him. Spencer turns to look at me, tilting his head to the side to make sure his visor is out of the way. He leans down to kiss me and I sit back, raising a hand to stop him.

“Oh (y/n), I’m sorry,” Spencer mumbles. He shifts uncomfortably on the bench, “I thought-”

“Spence,” I reach forward and flip his hat around, resting the visor on the back of his head. I keep my hands at the back of his head, fingers running through his loose, slightly sweaty curls. “Didn’t want you to knock me in the head with that...plus, I like seeing your pretty eyes.”

“Oh,” Spencer sighs softly and a blush creeps onto his cheeks. His eyes turned away from mine, and I know he’s consciously trying to reduce his red cheeks. No matter how long we’ve been together, Spencer still finds moments to be completely embarrassed or shy around me. He leans down, turning his head back to mine and capturing my lips with his. My hands still rest in his hair and I comb my fingers up through his curls gently. Spencer moans slightly and I lift my leg to straddle the backless-bench without his lips leaving mine.

“Spencer,” I smile while breaking the kiss for a moment, but Spencer moves his lips to my jawline. “Did I ever tell you about my one, umm,” I stumble over my words, now I’m the one who’s nervous… “fantasy?”

“Fantasy?” Spencer grins against my skin and I turn my face away, but he raises a finger pulling my face back to his, “tell me.”

“So, I’ve always had this fantasy of, um, y’know…” I raise my eyebrows, eyes glancing around the dimly lit room. “In a dugout…” My cheeks burn with an even more intense blush than before.

“You want to have sex... in a dugout?” Spencer asks, his fingers still rest on my jaw, his eyes staring into mine intently.

“It’s stupid, never mind.” I say, completely embarrassed and attempt to stand from the bench. Spencer’s strong hand grips my waist and pulls me back down towards him, “Spence, really it’s fine, I- lets just go, we have to get to Garcia-”

His lips crash into mine and I know my resistance is useless.

“Spencer, seriously,” I say completely breathless. His lips work down my jawline as I giggle, “it was a stupid fantasy. Plus it’s dirty in here and I’m—you don’t want to—”

“Shh,” Spencer coos, pulling his face away from my neck. “I’m ready to fulfill your fantasy, as long as you want me to.” He looks up at me, his eyes scan over my face to make sure I’m still comfortable. I practically become putty in his hands. He brushes my fallen hair out of my face and over my shoulder. His smooth fingertips running up and down my arms.

“Fuck,” I mumble, “yeah, I really want you to.”

“Thank God, because…” Spencer trails off and looks down between us. His dress pants have become tight at his waist as he squirms under the tension.

“Oh my sweet boy,” I whisper and kiss his jawline. “Is that from me?” I ask while hovering my lips over his skin and he nods slowly while swallowing hard. Carefully I slide forward onto Spencer’s lap, earning a moan from him in a process, “fuck”. My hands trail up his torso to meet the back of his neck, pulling gently at his curls as my lips continue to leave sloppy kisses on his neck and jaw.

“Baby,” Spencer moans. “C’mere.” His hands wrap around my hips, grinding them down against his own as Spencer groans at the sensation. I move my face away from him to look directly in his eyes. Spencer's head rests against the wall of the dugout, his eyes hooded, but lustful. I bring my lips back down to his neck, hips gently moving against his. My thighs rest on both sides of his, my skirt riding up against my skin. His hands trail up the edge of my skirt, grabbing my thighs gently.

“(y/n)? Wait,” Spencer says breathless.

“Yes, Spence?” I ask, pulling away from him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. I look at him and blink slowly, “you okay? We don’t have to-”

“No, no,” Spencer rushes out. “I just wanted to look at you.”

My heart flutters immediately as I smile at him. I bring my hands up from his chest, tangling them in his hair at the bottom of his baseball cap.

—

SPENCERS POV

(Y/n)’s eyes stare into mine as we sit tangled on the cool metal bench. Her knees are bent at my sides, our thighs rubbing together every time either one of us moves. I trail my hands up from her skirt and run them through the ends of her hair, slowly making my way up to her scalp. She leans into my touch almost instinctively as her eyes slowly close. I bring her even closer to me to catch her lips with mine.

“Spencer,” she moans against my mouth, her hips rocking back and forth. Fuck. If I could listen to her moan my name all day I would. “I need you.” She pants.

“Where do you need me?” I ask, pulling away with a grin.

“C’mon,” she giggles. “You’re the one with three PhDs...you should know.”

“It’s not that kind of—” before I even get the words out her lips crash into mine. Lustful and hungry for more. My back stretches against the walls still, (y/n) grinding down against our colliding bodies on the bench. My hands move down from her hair, tugging slightly before I completely let go. I trace her sides with my fingers before slipping under her skirt. My thumb presses between her thighs, running along the thin fabric of her underwear. She moans against my mouth, pulling away and throwing her head back, “Spencer, I need you.”

“So impatient today,” I say, raising my eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes in response, but I hook my fingers underneath her thong and move my fingers along her exposed skin. “What do you need me to do, baby?”

“Spencer,” she moans. “You already know-”

I shake my head at her, moving my hands back from her core, “not the answer I’m looking for.”

“Spence,” she whimpers, looking up at me with the most needy eyes possible. I move my hands onto the sides of the bench, too stubborn to give into her...even though I want to so badly. I tilt my head to the side, waiting on her every word—more specifically waiting for the words…

She brings her lips down to my ear, “I need you to fuck me, Dr. Reid.”

“Your wish is my command.” I smile at her and immediately run my hands back under her skirt. She shifts gently, her hands coming down to my belt. We both fiddle with each other’s bottoms for a moment, lips connected, moving together. (Y/n) unbuckles my belt while I simultaneously loop my fingers under her panties pulling them down her thighs. I swiftly move my hands from between her thighs to under them lifting her up off my lap and onto the bench. She whines sadly as our kiss breaks apart, “hold on, baby.” I tell her while pushing a stray hair away from her cheeks. She puffs her lip out but stays put, I quickly pull my pants down to gather around my ankles, I reach for my boxer waistband but she stops me. Her eyes scan over me before she stands from the bench, thong falling slowly down her legs to her feet. She steps out of it and I catch the underwear before it even reaches the ground.

“Saving those for later?” She asks, cocking her head to the side. I nod eagerly before she straddles my bare legs. Her cool fingertips run along my waist band before pulling them down slowly. I buck my hips up just enough for her to move them down even further. Her hands wrap around my cock slowly, pumping it a few times as I close my eyes mumbling her name over and over. She rises on her knees as she lines herself up with me, both of us hungry for the other. Slowly, (y/n) lowers herself down onto my cock, both of us moaning at the connection. She throws her head back in pleasure and I reach up, hands wrapping around her back pulling her closer to me. I push my lips to hers as she begins to grind herself down into me.

“Fuck-”, I mumble against her mouth. “You’re so tight, baby.”

“You feel so good Spence,” she responds as she moves her mouth down to my neck. I rest my head against the cool wall as she continues to ride me effortlessly. She gains her rhythm quickly, both of us chasing our highs.

“(Y/n),” I say moving my hands up to her face. “Wait.”

“You okay?” She asks, her hips stopping immediately.

“What else was in your fantasy? What else do you want me to do?” I ask, the words fumbling out of my mouth, in between gasps.

“Spencer,” she almost laughs. “This is more than enough. Stop using your big brain,” she leans forward and presses a gentle, sweet kiss to my lips. I rest my hands on her back, lowering them under her legs, lifting her up off of me. She raises her eyebrows at me confused, “I’m not coordinated enough to lift us both.” I respond and (y/n) audibly laughs. I stand from the bench and pull her closer to me. She stands on her toes to reach my mouth and once she does I scoop my arms under her thighs as she jumps into my arms. The kiss gets heated again as I spin us around quickly, but carefully (so I don’t trip over myself and my pants around my ankles) and rest her back against the cool cement walls. The cold bricks chill her instantly as I feel goosebumps rise on her skin. I lower her down onto my cock again and (y/n) gasps at the re-entry. Her legs wrap around my back pulling me closer and balancing herself around my waist. She pulls away from our kiss and looks directly at me, “you can move i'm okay.” I nod quickly and pulse my hips up into her quickly, repeating the action over and over until a rhythm sets in for both of us. (Y/n)’s hands push off my baseball cap, letting the hat hit the floor, as she tangles her finger in my loose curls. I move my mouth from hers and trail down the side of her neck, sucking gently at the connection between her jaw and neck. My hips continue to move in and out of her at a steady pace, our moans echoing throughout the empty dugout. Together, we reach our highs…(y/n) repeating my name over and over, as I say hers back. “I’m close, Spence-” she moans into my ear and I feel her tighten around me. I kiss her hard, pulling her bottom lip between my teeth gently.

“Come on, baby,” I say against her lips. “Let go.”

“Oh fuck, Spencer—fuck, fuck,” she mutters against my neck as she climaxes. Her thighs clench around my waist, her hands clawing down my back over my shirt. “Spencer, you’re so good to me. Cum for me, Dr. Reid.”

Her words bounce off the cement walls and hit me like a ton of bricks. With one more thrust, I release into her my legs trembling. (Y/n) slowly moves her legs down from my waist, as I lower her to the ground. My arms still linger around her back, as I pull out one final time. She stands on her unstable legs, leaning against the wall of the dugout, my hands resting on the wall aside her face. My head hangs in her face, curls falling down in front of my eyes as I try to steady my breathing.

“I’m impressed,” (y/n) comments, pushing my head up to meet her eyeline. “You didn’t trip over yourself and you held me up? The entire time?” She chuckles and a smile pulls at my lips. “My boyfriend is so strong and,” she reaches down to the floor picking up my baseball cap, placing it on my head, flicking the visor. “Athletic.”

“I’m coordinated when I need to be, especially for you,” I smile at her. “But athletic, not so much.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” she says, squatting down pulling up my boxers and pants. My hands still rest on the wall, head bowed, breath hitching as she works to redress me. She latches the belt around my waist and peers up at me, “I can confidently say, fantasy fulfilled.”

“Yeah?” I ask as she pulls my hands down from the wall, placing them on her hips.

“Yes, Spencer,” she stands on her toes and kisses my forehead. “Thank you.”

—

I raise my hand to Garcia’s front door, knocking twice before the door swings open.

“Spencer! (Y/n)!” Emily smiles and pulls us into a group hug. “Drinks are over there, still waiting on Hotch and JJ!”

“Practice went well?” Garcia asks while grabbing a chip from the bowl.

“Yeah, Spence is definitely improving.” (Y/n) smiles, leaning in against my arm.

“Come,” Emily reaches for (y/n)’s hands. “Let me make you a drink!” (Y/n) laughs and follows Prentiss across the room into the kitchen. Her, Emily, and Penelope laugh while mixing a drink by the counter. I look on from the other side of the room and run my hands through my hair, trying my best to fix it.

“So,” Morgan clasps a hand on my shoulder. “You found your motivation, huh, Kid?”

“Yeah, guess you could say that,” I say, giving him a coy smile.

—

so, the weather??? HAHA anyways friends I hope you enjoyed my first Spencer NSFW/18+ writing....had to get it out of my system ;)

leave requests here! // masterlist

stay safe and wear a mask! -m

#Spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #Spencer reid smut #spencer reid writing #dr spencer reid #dr reid #spence reid #criminal minds #criminal minds writing #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x female!reader #Spencer reid blurb #tw: smut #tw: sex

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wannabe-fic-writer · 3 years ago

Text

Moment In Time

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Just when you've gotten out, you’re given a reason to come back.

Warnings: Nothing for now unless I missed something.

Chapter 1

* * * * * * *

Music plays in your ears as the surrounding area blurs past you. Taking yet another lap around the overly large fountain, you feel the smallest drop of sweat trickle down the side of your head.

Running for two and a half hours seems to finally be yielding results.

You slow down some and a quiet, sarcastic, chuckle falls from your lips when another group of joggers passes by. They’d gotten here an hour ago and they were practically dripping sweat.

With a shake of your head you finish the lap in a matter of minutes, stopping afterwards and taking your headphones out. You take a few deep breaths as you look around.

The New York sky is as blue as it always is this time of year. People stroll by about a yard from where you stand, the streets and sidewalks bustling as usual, a few other runners on the same trail you just took.

A contented sigh leaves your lips.

For the first time in years, a calm peace washes over you. It’d taken you years to come to the decision to stop working, followed by a few months to mentally settle into your “retirement” as you’d been told it was.

The world doesn’t exactly need you anymore, earth’s mightiest heroes are doing all the saving and protecting now. Some of them you trust with your life while others you haven’t even met. All in all, you believe they’ve been getting the job done fairly well. Which made your retirement all the more easy.

If not working feels like this, you take another deep breath, you could get used to it.

Adjusting your headphones back into your ears, you barely jog three feet into your next lap when your phone rings. Fishing it out of your pocket, you sigh at the name displayed at the top and answer.

“Agent Y/Ln,” Fury’s voice floats into your ears,“ I need a favor.”

Just like that, you get the feeling you aren’t going to have the chance to get used to retirement.

* * * * * * *

Another uniformed guard walks by, his eyes glancing over at the two people in the cell, before he continues his leisure stroll down the hall.

The brunette archer runs his tongue across his bottom lip, eyes narrowing just barely before yet another pebble flicks across the cell and bounces off the wall right beside the ear of an already agitated ex-assassin.

“Barton, I swear to god if another rock comes within a foot of my face I will kill you before these morons even have the chance to consider it.” Natasha seethes, jaw clenching in frustration.

Clint snorts to hold in a laugh, raising his hands in surrender.“ My bad.”

Sighing heavily for the millionth time today, Natasha leans her head back against the cement wall, fingers gingerly running over the uncomfortable matching cement floor.

“You sure you don’t wanna play finger football with me?” He asks, flicking a triangular piece of paper towards his friend.

“Clint what the h-” she glares from him to the paper then back,“ where did you even get that?”

Letting his amused smile show, he answers,“ my pocket,” with a casual shrug,“ never know when you’re gonna get captured by psychotic evil German scientists.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the red head holds in every noise of frustration and foul word in her arsenal. She already can’t believe she allowed herself to get captured, Clint’s incessantly childish behavior is only adding to her bad mood.

A mere eight hours ago she’d been on a very easy mission with her team. Infiltration and intel gathering was a form of work she was overly familiar with, having done it before and during her time with SHIELD and the Avengers.

But with a new recruit on the team, and this having been his first infiltration mission, figuratively communicative wires got crossed.

A simple “payload secure” came across as something different in Sam’s ears, what he heard she can’t even try to guess, but it led to him coming her way with a shit load of guards. Disgruntled sounds of fighting drew Clint to their location but even then the amount of enemies was overwhelming.

Distress calls were cut short and staticy through the short communication devices they had. So, being the only one with a clear and easy route out of the chaos, Sam was given the task to get out while he could and to send back up.

The seconds after he left, Natasha and Clint were taken, blinded, stripped of their weapons and comms, and brought to this cell.

While they were aware of the rescue coming for them, they still looked for a way out but found none. Especially not with the rotation of guards that patrolled by every half hour. Like clockwork, another was headed their way.

The whistling of an all too American song rang through the halls, slipping into the cell and grabbing the attention of both agents.

Clint’s eyebrows pinch together when the guard stops in front of the cell, then turns to face them. His calculating gaze trails over their body while an equally observant Natasha looks as well.

She stares at the guard, a stone cold expression masking her face as she commits your appearance to memory. Your eyes, hair, the build of your body currently clad in the same blue uniform as the other guards. Something was different though.

While the guards came off as exactly what they are, lackeys for whoever is running this show, you are much bigger. The look on your face isn’t as submissive and blank as the others.

Clint scoffs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes scanning over you,“ what’re you? A new hire?” He asks sarcastically, deciding to speak as he knows Natasha won’t say a word.“ Send you in to intimidate us?”

A silent moment passes.

“Buddy, you think I’m the bad guy?” You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow. A little chuckle leaves your lips at the confused expression he pulls and the one Natasha tries to hide.

Taking a step closer to the cage, you slip your arms between the cast iron bars and lace your fingers together.“ I’m here to save your asses. Since you went and got yourselves captured.”

For the first time Natasha speaks, a velvety soft voice flowing from the cement box into your ears,“ who sent you?”

Her green eyes look into yours and that, coupled with her voice, intrigues you even more. Seeing as you are more than aware of who Black Widow is. But you know now isn’t the time to fall into a gay panic over a gorgeous woman.

“Fury.” You answer,“ it’s not often Nick calls in a favor so I had to come. Now, let’s say we get out of here yeah?” They both watch as you grab hold of the bars, pulling one good time, arms flexing as you easily break the lock and send the door sliding open and slamming into the wall.

Clint and Natasha share a look as you step inside, walking over to Clint and breaking his chains first, then going to do the same to Natasha.

You raise an eyebrow at her expression after breaking the first chain,“ listen red, you don’t have to trust me.” She stands up and looks down at you, until you rise up and look down at her.“ But you do need to trust Fury. Got any complaints, take it up with him after you’re not surrounded by a bunch of lunatics with guns.”

With that she watches you exit the cell, looking left and right, then waving them forward as you go left down the corridor.

The two agents follow you as you silently incapacitate every guard in your path, sharing a look for the third time today.

As you’re taking down your tenth guard, Clint looks from you to Natasha.“ Are we really supposed to believe they’re on our side? Cause,” he takes a deep breath and releases it.

“They’re trusted by Fury.” Natasha looks at her friend,“ and that’s all I need to know for now.”

Stopping in front of a door, you peek through the glass, then take a step back. You square your shoulders and adjust the cap on your head, smiling dazzlingly at the two.

“Do me a favor, wait around that corner,” you point to the opposite side of them where a dark empty pocket sits in the hallway,“ and try not to get captured again.” You wink and step into the room without another word.

They stare at the door you disappeared into, long enough to hear you speak.

“Wo sind die Gefangenen in Zelle 4 hingegangen?”

Natasha understood your words perfectly fine but Clint was a little lost. The short silence followed your continued shout of,“ Finde sie! Jetzt! Eile!”

Eyes wide Natasha grabs Clint’s hand and pulls them into the dark just before a slew of guards pour out of the room and down the same way you’d all just come from.

Clint and Natasha barely have a chance to blink before the door beside them opens. Sunlight streams through the door, followed by you coming out of the room.

“Figured you might want these back,” you say as you stop in front of them and hold their confiscated weapons out to them.

Clint is quick to sling his quiver around his shoulders, extending his bow and hugging it, a quiet ‘I missed you’ muttered under his breath toward the inanimate object.

A snort of a laugh leaves your lips before Natasha takes her batons from you and holsters them at her sides.

Taking your cap off, you toss it aside and smooth your hand through your hair.“ Cover was blown about thirty seconds ago so,” you nod to the outside,“ let’s get to that fancy jet you’ve got a few miles out before the fireworks start.”

Flashing another confident smirk, you slip out the door. The two agents follow closely behind you. All three of you work almost flawlessly in taking down the guards in your path to the jet.

It comes into view and you stop to let them run ahead of you, turning to look at the building as it seemingly spontaneously combusts in three specific locations.

Satisfied with your work, you nod and turn around. Almost all eyes are on you as you jog up the ramp into the jet. A silent crunch is heard before you toss crumpled plastic and wires out of your hand.

“Can’t have them tracing that back to us.” You say, stepping fully into the jet and looking around as the door closes behind you.

Stern blue eyes stare into yours, an almost upset march carrying him to stand in front of you.“ If there’s anyone alive.” He says angrily.“ Did you stop to think how many people you may have just killed?”

Your eyebrow quirks up at his tone of voice. Trailing your eyes down his body you mentally purse your lips and nod. Admittedly you could see why Peggy was so smitten. Assuming he didn’t take this type of attitude with her.

However you can’t say you’re taken with the Captain America. His already condescending attitude wasn’t something you liked and while you know it’s a possibility he’s just this way cause you don’t know each other, it’s also possible he’s just an ass. Either way he isn’t why you’re here.

“Captain,” you nod,“ always thought our first meeting would be more pleasant than this. But aye, they say you’re never supposed to meet your idols right.” You shrug and step around him, making to head to the front of the jet.

Only his hand grips your arm and he spins you around with a glare now on his flawless looking face.

Glancing down at the offending hand on your arm, you figure he’s nonverbally demanding an explanation so you give it.“ There were charges at both entrances and the security room. I made sure to send everyone away from those areas before I blew it up. There may be some minor injuries, if that. But next time I’ll just leave and give them every opportunity to come after us, Captain.” You tell him, gripping his hand in yours and prying it from your arm.

His glare turns to a slight look of surprise. While his grip hadn’t been enough to hurt an ordinary human, yours was equal to, if not potentially stronger, than his true strength. Enough force to have broken anyone else’s hand in multiple places.

“Who are you?” He asks, maintaining his attitude.

Not one for dealing with that, you mumble your name to him and go to the front of the jet.

Your blank face morphs into a smile at the sight of the man in the pilot's seat.“ Never was one to give up control huh?” You ask teasingly as you drop your hand on his shoulder.

His gaze lands on you with a quick snap of his head towards you. The smirk on your face and the fact that it was actually you, made him snicker.

Making quick work of throwing the jet on autopilot, he moved his chair back and stood up to pull you into a hug, to the shock and surprise of every member of his team.

“Good to see you T.” You pat his back before pulling away.

A smile tugs on his lips and he nods.“ Ditto. This doesn’t count by the way.” He points a finger at you as you clap your hand on his shoulder.

“It definitely counts. A save is a save. Might not have been you exactly but-”

Waving you off he mumbles,“ yeah yeah.” Then looks at his teammates, his arm wrapping around your shoulders despite the height difference.“ I take it you met the team.” He says to which you nod.

“Can’t say they’re all that fond of me.” You chuckle softly, eyes scanning over the still agitated Captain America, a man in a modified flight suit, and the two people you just saved.“ Are they always so annoyed when they get their asses saved or is it me?”

Tony shrugs,“ Capsicle always been a little icy.” He jokes and you laugh, shaking your head and pushing him away from you.“ Nat is- well she’s Nat. I think she’s starting to warm up to me but that’s taken quite a bit of time hasn’t it Romanoff?”

His gaze directs to the redhead and you follow it. Your eyebrow raises at the mocking smile she gives Tony followed by her asking,“ who exactly is Y/n and how do you know each other?”

Both you and Tony glance at each other and you take the liberty of answering her question. Speaking to her directly gives you the chance to truly look into her green eyes, which you must admit you find very beautiful.

A range of emotions flicker over everyone’s faces as you dip your toe into your long complicated past. You simplify your back story, only telling them that you met Tony his family, that you’re a super soldier, created after Steve went into the ice, and that you’ve been a part of SHIELD for a while.

There were many questions thrown your way and you heavily debated with yourself whether or not you wanted to tell them everything. You didn’t think it’d hurt to be a little mysterious. But there’s also the thought that you won’t be seeing these people much anyway so does it truly matter if they know who you are.

Whatever decision you’d come to ceased to matter as the jet landed. The door opened and your eyes raised to read the words written across the top of the building.

“Avengers?” You mumble, glancing at your long time friend/brother. He makes that face, that “what’re you gonna do” nonchalant face Tony always makes. With a shake of your head, you follow him inside, but instead of going with him towards the hallway, you b-line for the elevators.

Tony’s voice calls out to you, effectively grabbing the attention of his teammates,“ not joinin us Y/nn?”

You look back over towards him, your eyes landing on Natasha’s green ones first then on Tony. Smiling a little you shake your head,“ debriefing isn’t for retirees, Stark.”

Natasha frowns at your words and Tony shakes his head with a breathy chuckle.

All of you turn away from each other, them heading to the meeting room and you facing the elevator as the doors slide open.

“Agent, glad you could stick around for the debrief.” Fury says, making you frown and shake your head.

“No no,” you raise a finger, essentially telling him to hold up.“ I’m not an agent. Retired, remember.”

He stops walking to look back at you. Tilting his head, he raises his eyebrow,“ that was until today. I believe you did some work, seeing as Natasha and Clint are back.”

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you drop your head, groaning lowly,“ Nick please. You know-”

“That you’re on your way to the meeting room. Glad to hear it.” Leaving no more room to talk, he turns and walks away, breezing past the few Avengers who’d stayed behind to watch the interaction.

Grumbling under your breath, you follow after the man. Tony slaps his hand onto your shoulder, a small amused smirk on his lips as he guides you to the meeting room.

With a, in your opinion, justified glare directed at Fury, you plop down into a chair. The man snorts at the huff you let out, averting his eyes to everyone else who comes in.

To your surprise and silent pleasure, Natasha ends up occupying the chair on your other side. When her eyes land on you, you give a small smile and wiggle your fingers in a short wave.

Her eyes narrow at you and you wink. She just barely lifts a brow at the way your face morphs from one of amusement to a no nonsense expression.

You straighten up in your seat, fingers lacing together and resting on the table as your gaze focuses on Fury.

Natasha finds it a bit of a struggle to take her eyes off of you. Since the second she saw you back in Berlin she hasn’t been able to get a clear read on you.

“Romanoff, can I have your attention?” Fury tilts his head and looks directly into Natasha’s eyes.“ Or is that too much to ask?” His tone takes a sassy turn and the redhead rolls her eyes, focusing on him.

The debriefing goes exactly how everyone is used to it going. They go over the original objective of the mission, then everyone gives a run down of what happened: the part they played, how they contributed to the objective, and in this case how things went south.

“Y/Ln,” Fury says, making Natasha’s gaze snap over to you. Had you been looking at her, you would’ve seen the surprise flicker through those green orbs.

“Director,” you nod in reply before going into detail about your infiltration into the German base and the extraction of Natasha and Clint.

All while you talk, Natasha looks at you. You, Agent Y/n Y/Ln. She can’t believe she didn’t connect the dots. Fury sent you in. You’d told her your name. She should’ve seen it. Everyone at SHIELD knows who you are. A lot of people outside of SHIELD know about you as well.

Your explanation of who you were in the quinjet wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. She didn’t think this often of someone but: you are a legend.

“- things considered,” Natasha regains focus on the conversation, looking away from you to Fury as you speak,“ the mission could’ve gone off flawlessly.”

The man crosses his arms and shifts his weight,“ and what would you say the problem is Agent?”

“Underestimation sir. Or maybe misinformation.” Your response is a bit of a shock to everyone. You take their silence as an opportunity to further explain. You thought it was simple.

The mission was to grab intel from a science lab. As to be expected, the scientists and information there would be guarded. The underestimation or misinformation came in how heavily guarded the place was. Whatever surveillance or recon they had done wasn’t enough. So when they went in to collect they were overwhelmed or caught off guard which resulted in Natasha’s and Clint’s capture.

Everyone takes your words in stride, majority of them processing it and storing it for a time in which they’ll need to use it.

Shortly after that the debriefing ends with a few, what you know is meant to be taken as, encouraging words from Fury. Everyone stands after he’s left, starting to file out.

Once again as you make to leave, Tony stops you. He slaps your arm and you know he’d used as much force as he could behind the action.

Used to this from him, you sigh and shake your head, a small amused smirk on your lips as you look at him.“ What is it now Tony?”

He smiles at you,“ why don’t you hang out for a bit. Haven’t seen the tower yet.” You raise your eyebrow at him, gaze flicking to the redhead that walks past behind him, her eyes on you for a second before she looks away. Smile turning into a smirk he adds,“ you might just find a reason to stick around.”

* * * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers @yumusak-yastik

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natalia romanoff #natalia romanoff x you #black widow #black widow x reader #moment in time #reader insert

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wkemeup · 4 years ago

Text

Sunrise (1)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 3.5k warnings: heavy focus on Bucky’s PTSD/anxiety, the first splinter in the wall around Bucky’s heart 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

This was a bad idea. A monumentally bad idea.

Bucky closed his apartment door behind him, pausing for a moment at the top of brownstone steps as a chill of autumn air swept by. Brittle to the touch, cool on his skin, it nestled into his spine and ached deep in his bones— in ones that had been long abandoned, too. The sun reflected against the shine of the pavement from last night’s rainfall, forcing Bucky to squint his eyes.

Was it always so bright outside? Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t left his apartment for nearly a week before Sam threatened to turn him over to Steve that he’d forgotten how unpleasant the streets of New York could be. Loud. Cold. Chaotic.

He stepped onto the sidewalk, slipping out of the path of a jogger who nearly ran him over and had the gull to flip him the bird. Bucky groaned, curling his right hand into a fist and digging it deep into his pocket as he tried to calm the sudden racing in his chest. The free arm of his army jacket swung down by his left side, empty.

Not even a few steps outside the sanctuary of closed curtains, warm bedsheets, and the unattended static of a decade old television, and Bucky was already regretting ever knowing Sam Wilson.

Bucky turned towards the busy street ahead, staring up at the hustle of pedestrians and rush of taxis for a moment longer before he dared to take a step. His feet felt remarkably heavy and he had more than half a mind to tell Wilson to shove it and head back up to his apartment. He had better things to do than make a completely unnecessary trip to the VA.

What those things were, he couldn’t say, but they didn’t make his heart feel like it was about to beat straight out of his chest. He could stare at a wall for a few hours, for example – see if he could find the crack in the drywall again and follow it to the ceiling.

“Don't be a coward, Barnes,” Bucky grumbled to himself, earning a strange look from an elderly woman as she passed by. Her eyes held on him longer than she should; clearly a woman who had little shame in her degradation of strangers.

He gritted his teeth and commanded his legs to move. Those worked, at least.

As he made his way to the main street, his palm started to sweat inside his pocket. He could see his breath in every tense exhale, and still, he was boiling hot under his jacket. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d remove it, because even with a sleeve hanging loose off his shoulder, he could at least keep up the pretense there was something inside. People would have to look twice before they realized. Wasn’t so easy to hide a missing arm in a short sleeve shirt.

Still—he was thankful as he weaved his way upstream through the crowd that he wasn’t as broad as he used to be. A couple months' worth of weight loss, diminished muscle mass, and one less limb will do that do a guy.

He used to be the sort of man that women would glance at as he passed by. Charming smile. Infectious energy. He could make a woman bite shamelessly at the edge of her bottom lip with a single trail of his eyes along her figure. Extend a hand, offer a drink and a dance. He used to hold confidence in every ounce of his body.

Now, he kept his eyes on the pavement. He hid from the sun and the curious looks of strangers under the brim of a baseball cap. No one looked twice in his direction. He was invisible these days and that was just the way he liked it.

By the time he reached the VA, he was surprised to find it a little less than pristine. The windows were dirty with handprints and smudges, the window panes covered in soot. A few of the roofing panels were missing from harsh New York winters. Even some of the outer brick wall had seen some weathering.

Though, if he were honest, it wasn’t usual at all. Made some sense that the VA was left to wash and wear on its own, deteriorating in front of a busy street of onlookers, right out in plain sight. It was how Bucky felt after he’d come home from his last tour— discarded. Placed upon a pedestal, but only as long as you wear the uniform, only as long as you’re staring down the other end of a barrel. Once you’re shipped back home and cast out from desert, you’re made to fend for yourself. Pull up your bootstraps. Adjust.

Bucky wasn’t sure how to do that anymore. Sam insisted this would help. The people at the VA were good, he’d said. They were like him. They’d understand.

While Bucky was suspicious, it was enough to drag him a couple blocks from his apartment. It was more than he’d done in weeks anyway. Sam would put on his makeshift shrink hat and call that a meaningful step. Bucky would call it pathetic.

He stared at the double doors, focusing on dark red rust on the metal hinges. He wondered if he put enough pressure on the latch if it would snap clean off. It looked sharp on the edges, too. Someone could easily cut themselves on it if they weren’t careful—

BEEEEEEP!

A jolt surged through Bucky’s chest enough to nearly knocked him off his feet.

Sudden flashes of a sweltering heat, the unnatural vibration of the desert under his feet. The car horn echoed into the back of his head, longer than it should have, and his ears started to ring. His vision felt tunneled and Bucky quickly stumbled his way through the double doors just to escape the blare of the horn outside.

It took a minute to adjust to the dim lighting. It was darker inside than what he was expecting. He blinked a few times, hand resting on the wall to hold his balance as he looked around, shaking himself from the memories.

Lamps were spread throughout the common room to offset the abrasive overhead lighting left untouched. Bucky started to wonder if he maybe it was on purpose, if he wasn’t the only one who had become sensitive to these things, when Sam walked into the room.

He froze.

“Holy shit!” Sam’s mouth rose up into that goddamn know-it-all smile, wide enough to show teeth and the dimples in his cheeks, and Bucky winced. Sam started to laugh as he crossed the space to where Bucky was standing. “I didn’t think you’d actually come!”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky shrugged, “I’m here. Don’t make this a big thing.”

“Who me?” Sam scoffed, feigning offense. “You know Steve’s the one who’s going to blow this up. He might throw a welcome party if you ever show up to the support group.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s not happening.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Sam nodded, though he was still smiling. He looked almost... proud? It didn’t sit well in Bucky’s stomach. “Still, got you out of that cramped apartment, didn’t I? You open those curtains yet or are you still living like a vampire?”

Bucky glared at him. Sure, Sam was right... but he didn’t need to know that.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.” Sam put a hand on Bucky’s back to guide him down the hall.

He was only one of two people Bucky tolerated touching him at all and he was lucky he didn’t flinch anymore. Even an innocent touch from his own mother when she tried to hold his hand after he came back from his final tour had nearly left him in a panic attack. She’d cried as Bucky desperately tried to gather his breath, shoving her away as if she’d burned him.

Sam and Steve didn’t give him much of a choice. They didn’t handle him with kid gloves or treat him like he was about to break. Even if he was splintering at the seams, you’d never be able to tell with how Sam and Steve were around him; like old times, like nothing had changed, like they were still three kids dressed in fresh uniforms with chips on their shoulders and a whole new world ahead of them.

After a while, the small pats on the back and the nudges in his side became a small comfort; not that he’d tell them. It was a strange feeling to both be repulsed by touch and crave it. But the topic didn’t come up much these days outside of his friends anyway. No one tried to touch him and he didn’t seek it out. It was easier that way.

“The kitchen’s over here,” Sam said as he pointed into a room that had likely once been covered in white tiles and appliances, though now resembled more of a pale yellow. Two men were hunched over at the table, nursing coffee out of Styrofoam cups as a woman waited eagerly by a toaster.

“Everything in there is free rein,” Sam added. “Always stocked with food from donations, though I would make sure to check the expirations on the milk before adding it to your coffee.” He shivered at an unpleasant memory and Bucky found the edge of his mouth curl, though he suppressed it rather quickly.

The next room was mostly empty save for the wooden lined floors and chairs folded up against the wall. A sheet covered the small window peering inside that read ‘group in session when closed.’

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sam started, to which Bucky narrowed his eyes, “but I’m not going to force you into the support group, Buck. You go when you’re ready. If you ever are. Talking about this stuff, or even listening to it... it isn't for everybody. Steve will get that, too. We all find our outlets eventually. You’ll find yours, too.”

Bucky nodded, a swell of relief in his chest. He’d been forced into a mental evaluation by the army docs shortly after his discharge; something about routine testing, but he knew what they were looking for – what all those shrinks were looking for – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

The nightmares came first, soon after he’d returned to the States. It started in screams that burned deep into his throat, waking up neighbors at two in the morning, finding blood in his bed from injuries he’d caused in his sleep. Lately they’d manifested into sweat drenched in his sheets and a heart rate that couldn’t seem to even out until the sun rose.

Then came the jumpiness – the flinching at every loud noise, thinking it was a bomb or the latch of a safety. He’d broken more glasses than he cared to admit, knocking them straight of his hand at the sound of a gunshot on the television.

Then the paranoia settled in, then the hypervigilance. The anxiety in crowds and tight spaces was new, though. Add it to the list, he supposed.

Through all of it, he never let the shrink catch on. He’d put on a smile and tell them he was proud of his service, that he’d serviced his country with honor and he was thankful to return to the civilian side of things for a change.

It was bullshit.

He was pissed. He lost an arm and half his mind to a war that recruited him young and idealistic right out of high school, when he was looking for a better life than what his neighborhood could offer, to put food on the table for his ma and sister. Pissed was understated.

He wouldn’t find himself in Steve’s group; of that he was certain. You don’t talk about those things after you leave the desert. Hell, you barely acknowledge them while you’re there. It’s just how it works. It’s how you deal with it. Bucky didn’t allow himself to consider whether his method was doing him much better.

Sam walked him through the common areas, the lounge space, even a room with a pretty decent sized television and a shelf filled with DVDs. It was a nice enough place. Quiet. But so was his apartment.

“Now this is the best room in the house.” Sam opened a door on his left, the hinges squeaking under an old wooden frame as he stepped inside.

Bucky followed in closely behind and was surprised when a subtle scent of pine brushed his senses. A small candle was burning at the center of a coffee table, surrounding it were a few couches, all with mismatched fabrics, laid upon a carpet that looked to have been donated from an estate sale. The walls around him were lined with shelves, though they were completely empty. Cob webs hung in the corners and dust lined the wood.

What caught his eye was a single cart at the edge of the room. It was filled with books, all in bright colors on the binding and tags from the Brooklyn Public Library piled high on top of one another, far beyond the confines of the cart itself.

“Y/n? Where you at, kid? We got a newbie!” Sam called, nudging Bucky in the side with a playful wink he did not return.

A figure suddenly jumped from behind the couch with a book in hand covered in layers of dust and crumbs. The sudden movement forced a flinch deep in Bucky’s chest, his breath held tight in his lungs, though he kept himself firm on the surface, like stone. It took a minute before he realized how tight he’d barreled his fist and he slowly released his grip before Sam could notice.

“Been looking for this one for over a year!” you exclaimed, holding up the book for Sam to see. You brushed off the cover, restoring the original vibrant hue of the artwork. “Can’t even imagine the overdue fees I’ve racked up on this sucker...”

There was a strange lightness in your voice Bucky didn’t expect, a tenderness and a sunshine that didn’t belong amongst the dark overcast of the men and women who occupied these rooms. It certainly sat in dangerous contrast to the gravel and stone in Bucky’s voice and the clouds that usually followed in his wake.

He glanced down at his clothes as you approached; a pair of old ripped jeans from a few years ago, a faded t-shirt, and his army jacket hung over his shoulders. Dull and raggedy, ripping at the seams.

But you? Dressed in the warmest shade of a red knit sweater, a gentle glow on your cheeks, a softness about your movements, you resembled the sort of sunset at the end of a highway one would stop the car to capture on film. Inviting. Tender and ethereal. Lovely.

You stepped closer and he noticed the knees of your jeans were covered in dust, your palms too. Messy in the pursuit of happiness, like a child on a playground. You didn’t seem to mind the dust as you brushed it off your knees, holding the found book close to your chest like an extension of your own heart.

“Blame it on Lang. He's always losing stuff around here,” Sam offered as you set the book on the cart. You started to laugh and swatted Sam in the arm. A pout perched on your lips, though it didn’t seem to last long. Your laugh was infectious.

Bucky swallowed as he watched you; the way your smile wrinkled up into your eyes as if a face like yours was drawn and designed to curve at the lips and push dimples to your cheeks. It shined into the bright hues in your irises and Bucky wondered if you would keep smiling like that forever, if it were possible that he could stare into the sun and not be burned; if instead, he could find warmth in its embrace.

His heart stammered, his breath shallow, but it wasn’t unpleasant like it had been on the busy streets. It was something new, a sensation he hadn’t had since before he signed his name to a cause that took his arm and his dignity.

Y/n, Sam had called you. It was a beautiful name. He didn’t know if he could even find things beautiful again after what he’d seen overseas. You were the first, he supposed.

He must have been staring too long, because your lips were moving to words he didn’t hear, and suddenly two pairs of eyes were on him. His heart skipped, frozen in embarrassment.

“This must be your first day of school,” you teased, extending your right hand to him.

Bucky stared down at it, heart pounding, and before Sam could politely tell you that Bucky didn’t really do that sort of thing, he pulled his hand from his pocket and shook it. You had a firmer grip than he was expecting, but still soft. Your fingers were like ice and it was a nice contrast to the swelter he felt under his jacket.

Sam raised an eyebrow, surprised by Bucky's sudden willingness to take the hand of a stranger, though thankfully he didn’t say anything. A shit eating grin curved up upon his lips and that, Bucky could have done without.

“Thought it was time I checked it out,” Bucky said, his voice a little dry. You let go of his hand and Bucky found he missed the contact almost instantly.

“Dragged him here by the skin of his teeth is more like it,” Sam interjected and Bucky’s ears burned red. He shot Sam a glare, who only shrugged, unbothered by his humiliation of his friend. “Been trying to get his sorry ass through the door for a few months now.”

You nodded, though your smile never wavered. Your eyes remained on Bucky, listening to Sam, but intently studying the lines on Bucky’s face. It left him feeling exposed, but somehow, even as his own gaze trailed to the floor, he didn’t mind you watching him like that, like maybe you found worth in what you saw. He adjusted his stance, suddenly remembering the startling absence on his left.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” you said, brushing Sam off in his teasing. “I’ve been volunteering at this place for a little over a year. We got good people here. I’m sure you’ll fit right in...” you paused, biting on your lip.

“Bucky,” he offered because he could tell you were waiting for it. You smiled at his name and a sense of pride burned bright in his chest. God, if he could just make you smile like that again...

“Bucky’s a cool name,” you grinned, though Sam rolled his eyes. “That short for something?”

“Don’t lie to the new kid, Y/n. We all know it’s corny as hell,” Sam interrupted playfully before Bucky could get a word in. You wacked Sam on the shoulder and Bucky felt the edges of his lips curve. It felt strange, achy, like he hadn’t done that in a while. Maybe he hadn’t.

“Buchanan,” Bucky answered, though he quickly added, “but my first name’s James. James Barnes.”

“Well, James Barnes,” you started, exchanging a knowing look with Sam that made Bucky’s stomach twist in knots, “I run a book club of sorts on Sunday evenings around six. You should swing by. We’re always looking for new members.”

“Y/n works at the Brooklyn library most days,” Sam explained. “We’re lucky to have her. Never thought I’d see so many tattooed men with biceps the size of my head sitting in a circle talking ‘bout books, but Y/n works magic. Everyone loves her. Helps that her book club is pretty unconventional.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Unconventional?”

Sam started to say more, but you pouted your lips at him and he left the words on the edge of his tongue. He held up his hands in defense and took a step back, returning the smile to your face.

“Don’t listen to him,” you said, laughing so sweetly Bucky was sure his knees might give out at any second. “It’s a good time, I promise. No pressure at all.”

Bucky nodded, considering his options. The idea of seeing you again could make the walk down to the VA worth it, but he wasn’t sold on the concept of sitting in a room full of ex-combat vets probably using a shared book as a proxy for a support group. He wondered if you had them reading something about PTSD or adjusting to civilian life or a memoir of some guy embellishing his time overseas to make a quick buck.

But he wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, so he asked, “what are you reading?”

You shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, confused.

“Just think about it,” you suggested as you unclicked the lock at the bottom of the cart. The front wheel was broken and you struggled to get an angle to move in the direction you pushed it. “I should head back to the library. It was really nice to meet you, Bucky. I’ll see you later, Sam.”

Bucky nodded, finding himself searching for something else to say, some kind of excuse to get you to stay longer, but came up empty. You smiled at him, all bright and starry eyed, and his knees felt weak again. Shit.

“Don’t let Stark talk your ear off on the way out,” Sam warned, a laugh in his voice.

“I think I know my boys around here by now, Samuel,” you teased back. Bucky couldn’t quite tell if it was a pang of jealousy in his stomach or an eagerness to be included. It was a strange rush of feelings he hadn’t tapped into in years; not necessarily unpleasant, but certainly unfamiliar.

You paused by the door, turning back and capturing Bucky’s eye one last time. “Sunday at six, alright? I’ll see you there.”

He didn’t say anything, but you seemed to take his silence as confirmation. You gave him a final wave before you disappeared into the hallway. He could hear the click of the broken front wheel on your cart echoing down the hall.

Bucky and Sam followed you out of the room and hung back by the makeshift library doors.

“What did I tell you!” Sam cheered, nudging Bucky hard enough on the side to knock him off his balance. He was too fixated on watching grumpy old men and stone-faced women pass by in the hallway with smiles on their faces as they saw you.

“It’s, uh, it’s not bad.” Bucky waited until you disappeared out the front doors and onto the busy sidewalks before he turned to Sam. He was watching him with a sort of I-told-you-so look that made Bucky want to slap the dimples straight from his face. “...what?”

“Nothing, man.” Sam shrugged, though there was something lingering in the smirk he wore, like maybe he knew something Bucky didn’t.

He didn’t care for that one bit.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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dirtyoatmeall · 4 years ago

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Saying I love you (Various x reader)

A/N: here are some cute little drabbles of some of the boys saying I love you. It was originally gonna be I love you for the first time but I started imaging domestic softness and couldn't help myself. If there's anyone else you want to see let me know!

Pairings: Bokuto, Kuroo, Tendo, Osamu, Sakusa, Tsukishima, Ukai, Iwaizumi x reader (separate) established relationships, gn!reader

Warnings: None :)

Bokuto

You were walking home together after practice like every day, swinging your joined hands as you chattered about the day while Bokuto listened intently, giving feedback when needed. You were telling him a stupid joke and when you looked at him, lips lifting into a smirk, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out,

“I love you.”

He stopped as soon as the words tumbled from his lips, he had no idea what overcame him, this isn’t how he wanted to tell you, what if you thought it was too soon? What if you didn’t want to say it back?

Your eyes had widened momentarily, playful smirk melting into a loving smile. You squeezed his hand, returning his attention to you. You stepped closer, placing a quick kiss on his cheek before tugging him along again.

“I love you too Kou.”

Tendo

It was your weekly date night, electing to stay in and escape the cold. You were lying in bed, on your back while Tendo was in between your legs, head resting on your stomach, reading the new Shonen Jump as you ran your hands through his hair absentmindedly, scrolling through TikTok on your phone. The two of you were silent, occasionally you’d show him a funny video, or he’d tell you his theories on the manga he was reading.

You sat up and scooched back slightly, resting more against the headboard and Tendo slid down to rest between your thighs. He looked up at you and you smiled, groaning softly as you stretched your arms above you.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes opened and you looked down mid-yawn at the red head, surprised. He wiggled his eyebrows in response, and you laughed, letting your arms drop, weaving your fingers back into his hair and tugging lightly as you leaned down to kiss him softly, pulling back slightly, goofy grin replacing your surprise.

“I’m in love with you too dork.”

Kuroo

Graduation ceremony had just finished. You were both still in your cap and gown, taking pictures with your families. He watched you fondly as you talked with his mom and sister, making him take a picture of the three of you, bright grins evident. He pulled you to the side after, kissing you gently, he was so happy you got along with his family, hopefully they’d be your family soon enough.

“I love you (Y/N).”

You smiled wide, eyes becoming a little glossy, and you hugged him tight, exhaling shakily. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, expression full of adoration, mirroring his.

“I love you too Tetsuro.”

You laughed when you heard coos from behind you, your families no doubt already taking pictures of the intimate moment.

Osamu

You finished closing the restaurant after a busy Saturday, Osamu was leaning against the counter, watching you as you took inventory, planning on placing a supply order tomorrow. He watched as you scanned the rows, chewing your bottom lip in concentration. Your brow furrowed, pencil tapping your chin as you contemplated something. When you decided on an answer you nodded once to yourself, small smile playing on your lips.

You turned to continue onto the next section, glancing at him for a movement before looking at him fully when you catch him staring. You rose an eyebrow, one hand on your hip. “What’cha thinkin’ ‘bout ‘Samu?”

He hummed before pushing away from the counter, waltzing toward you. “Oh nothin’, just thinkin’ ‘bout how much I love ya.” You hummed in response, watching bemused as he approached, snaking his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “Yeah? Enough to finish inventory?” He seemed to think for a moment, “Hmm, I don’ know ‘bout that…” You laughed and playfully shoved him, though it did little to move him. You lightly tapped the clipboard on his head,

“Well lucky for you, I love you enough.”

He pinched your bottom, chuckling when you yelped, moving to wrap his arms around you again, this time pulling your back to his chest as he read over your shoulder.

Sakusa

You were making dinner when he came home from practice, sizzling of the pan audible from the doorway. He called out a greeting, you turned down the music before you popped your head out of the kitchen. “Hey babe! It’ll be a little bit before I’m done, why don’t you go ahead and shower? Dinner should be done by the time you’re out.” Kiyoomi smiled and nodded, heading towards your shared bedroom.

He stood in the doorway to the kitchen, hair still slightly damp, as he watched you cook. You were in your own little world, humming along to the music, hips swaying slightly as you stirred the contents of the pot in front of you. You caught sight of him when you turned to grab seasoning, jumping slightly in surprise before smiling,

“Gosh you scared me Kiyo! One sec, lemme me wash my hands.” You moved the pot off the heat, moving to the sink to wash up as Kiyoomi walked towards you. You finished drying your hands by the time he reached you, his hands finding their place on your hips. You mumbled a greeting again before reaching up to kiss him softly, fingertips resting on the side of his jaw for balance. He pulled back and kissed your forehead before smiling softly.

“I love you.”

You smiled brightly, “I love you too! C’mon lets dish up, I’m pretty sure I didn’t burn the meat this time.” Kiyoomi snorted, grabbing plates down for the two of you.

Tsukishima

The sunlight filtering in through the blinds slowly stirred you awake. You groaned, rubbing your face before stretching, yawn escaping your lips. You glanced at the clock on your nightstand, stiffening when you saw the time.

“ ‘ts Sunday, go back t’ sleep.” Kei yawned next to you, tugging you back into his chest, nuzzling into your hair. You relaxed, turning in his hold, rolling your eyes at his groan of protest. Droopy eyes and a pout greeted you when you turned to face him, you smiled and kissed his pout, snuggling into his chest. He huffed and resumed his position, arms tightening around your waist as your legs tangled together. He mumbled into your hair,

“ ‘m love you” you laughed softly, rubbing his back, Kei was always more needy in the morning. “I love you too baby.” He pinched your hip, and you laughed louder when he rolled the two of you to face to the other way, now facing away from the window. He grumbled and pulled the covers up more,

“If you really love me, you’ll stop bein' loud and g' back t’ sleep.” You muffled your giggle in his chest, kissing his shoulder in apology before shifting slightly to get more comfortable, letting his heartbeat lull you back to sleep.

Ukai

You settled into the chair behind the counter, sipping your coffee as you flipped through a magazine. You heard cursing and loud footsteps stumbling down the stairs leading to your apartment and you smiled into your mug. Your eyes flickered up to your husband, taking in his disheveled appearance and pout before turning back to your magazine. You raised your head when you heard him come up behind you.

Longs fingers pinched your cheek before grasping your chin to tilt your head back. You smirked at the grumpy frown on his face as he leaned down to kiss you in greeting. He pulled away grumbling. “Damned woman, lucky I love you, always letting me sleep late.” You hummed in agreement and held up his lighter, which he swiped before kissing your forehead, tugging a lock of your hair and stealing a swig of your coffee before he left.

“Love you!” You called after him, laughing loudly as he flipped you off as he walked out of the store.

Iwaizumi

You waved when the screen loaded, your boyfriend’s sleepy form on the other side of the screen, on the other side of the world. “Hey baby, it’s pretty late, you going to bed?” Iwaizumi nodded, rubbing his eyes. “Wanted t’ talk though.” You smiled softly. Even though there was a 16 hour time difference between the two of you, Iwaizumi never failed to skype you at least once a day, talking about your days or planning for when he’d come home next. Usually you’d talk when he woke up, which was right before you went to bed, but he had an early practice and wanted to move it later.

He was in bed already, and he listened as you talked about your day, humming every so often in response. Though after a few minutes of nothing from the other end, you looked up from your book and smiled warmly. Light from his bedside lamp illuminated his sleeping face, and you could hear the quiet snores escaping his lips. He must’ve been pretty tired. You said his name gently a few times, a little louder to try and wake him. He blinked blearily, furrowing his eyebrows. “Hey, you should go to bed.” He made a noise of protest, shaking his head slightly. “ ‘m awake, keep telling me ‘bout your day.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at his stubbornness. “Haiji, you literally were asleep a few minutes ago. As much as I’d love to watch you sleep, I bet your phone isn’t plugged in, and you should turn off your lamp.” He grumbled but complied, the phone shaking slightly as he fumbled to plug it in, before unplugging the lamp.

“Ok, ‘m gonna go t’ bed. I miss you baby. I’ll call in the mornin’. Love you.” You blinked away the tears forming in your eyes and nodded. “Alright, I’ll talk to you in a few hours, sleep well, I miss you too, love you so much Haji.” You ended the call, taking a deep breath, exhaling shakily. It was hard, living thousands of miles from your boyfriend, but it was worth it, he was worth any distance. You set an alarm for later tonight, grabbing an energy drink from the fridge to return to your studies.

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jaehyunfirstlove · 3 years ago

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Pairing: businessman!lucas x f.reader

Genre: smut (18+ only)

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, slight exhibitionism

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: this is my first Lucas fic so please be gentle lol. inspired, as you can tell by the title, by the song :)

Your flight was delayed, landing you at McCarran past three am, and well past your agreed upon pickup from your hotel. Sighing you went to the hotel pickup counter, only to see the *closed* sign. You considered calling your best friend, Joy, whose bachelorette party you were there for, but you felt bad bothering her in case she was asleep, or worse, out having a good time.

You were about to call an uber, already dreading what kind of experience you might get, when you noticed a man slumped against the counter, holding up a sign. He was obviously a hired driver, wearing the cap and uniform that designated him as such, and the sign he was holding had a person’s name on it, followed by the hotel name, which was coincidentally the same one you were going to.

“Excuse me,” you said, coming over to stand in front of him. He didn’t move, and that’s when you noticed he was snoring lightly. You cleared your throat with a little more force, and he finally blinked his eyes open and looked at you.

“Yes?” he said irritably, obviously annoyed at being woken from his little nap.

“You’re going to the Venetian, right?” you asked, putting on your most polite voice.

“Yeah, just waiting for my customer.”

“Could I possibly catch a ride with you? I’m going to the same hotel, and I missed my ride because my flight was delayed.” You put on your sweetest voice, hoping to sway him.

“Sorry, miss, can’t take anyone who’s not on the register,” he shrugged, “company orders.”

“Oh come on! I’m stuck at the airport in the middle of the night! We’re going to the same place anyway! What’s another person?”

“Hey, I don’t wanna lose my job here!”

You were about to plead your case further, when a man suddenly walked up to the two of you. He was tall and slim, his chestnut brown hair swept high, eyes wide as he stared between the two of you. You recognized him as the guy from business class on your flight, the very same one you’d made flirtatious eyes at as you walked by him to the restroom.

“What’s going on?” he asked, stepping up to the driver. “That’s me,” he said, pointing at the sign.

“Oh, Mr. Wong, it’s nice to meet you,” the driver said hurriedly. “This lady was trying to hitch a ride with us but I told her we can’t take anyone unless they’re on the register.”

The man, Mr. Wong, looked at you then, and you saw the flash in his eyes as he recognized you from the flight. You made pleading eyes at him, hoping he would get the hint. Finally, a wide grin broke across his face and he turned to the driver.

“No problem,” he said, “she can come.”

You blew out a breath in relief, but to your dismay the driver just shook his head.

“Sorry Mr. Wong, I can’t take her unless she’s with you.”

You could see the gears turning in his head, his eyes shifting back and forth, before he suddenly threw his arm around your shoulder and pulled you against him. “She’s my girlfriend,” he announced, chin jutting in the air, almost as if he were challenging the driver to disagree with him.

The driver narrowed his eyes at you but you kept your face neutral, and finally he just shrugged.

“Fine with me, as long as you take responsibility for her.” He took your suitcase from you and started walking, obviously he was tired and wanted to go home, fed up with dealing with complications well past the end of his shift.

Mr. Wong fell in step beside you, and once the driver was out of earshot he extended his hand to you and whispered, “I’m Lucas, nice to meet you.”

“Y/N,” you smiled, shaking his hand and marveling at how big it was as it enveloped yours.

“We were on the same flight,” he said, smiling widely at you, and you nodded, face flushing as you remembered how you had given him flirtatious looks. “I remember you.”

“Yes, I remember you, too,” you answered, finding his smile was contagious as you looked at him. “Thanks for what you did back there. I really would’ve been stuck here if it wasn’t for you.”

“Oh no problem,” he said, swatting his hand in the air, “not good to stay here at night.”

You smiled, and he looked away shyly.

“Sorry my English isn’t good,” he said, rubbing a hand through his beautifully coiffed hair.

“Oh my god are you kidding? Your English is perfect,” Your compliment made him blush, and he giggled into his hand as you finally reached the car. He opened the door for you and you slid into the seat, and after stowing his suitcase in the trunk he slid in next to you.

The driver eyed the two of you suspiciously in the rearview mirror, because you were sitting so far from each other like strangers. So you inched a little closer to him, and when he noticed what you were doing he did the same, sliding an arm around your shoulder for good measure.

It should have been uncomfortable, cuddling with a complete stranger in the backseat of a car, but something about Lucas made you feel at ease. He pointed at landmarks, asked questions, engaged you in conversation despite his unease with the language. He even made jokes, laughing at them first before you could, and that made you laugh even harder.

At some point the ride lapsed into silence, and you suddenly felt very drowsy, the late night finally catching up with you. You rested your head against his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t mind, since you were pretending to be his girlfriend, after all.

“Tired?” he asked, and you nodded. He tightened his hold around you then, and you found you liked his arm around you, a shiver running through your body at the feel of it. He thought you were cold, so he took his jacket and placed it on your lap, his hand resting on your thigh.

“Is it okay?” he asked, but the low timbre of his voice, his face so close to yours, and his hand, warm on your thigh, made a different kind of warmth flood through your body. The only way you could answer was to tug his bottom lip into your mouth.

His eyes widened momentarily, before he answered in kind, eyes closing as he kissed you back. His grip on your thigh tightened, and that, along with the heavenly way his mouth moved against yours, made you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down closer to you.

“Hey, hey, none of that in my car, please.” The driver said sternly, eyes hard as he looked at the two of you in the rearview mirror. You pulled away from each other, smiling shyly, but your insides were on fire, and his kisses only stoked the flame. He kept his hand on your thigh for the rest of the ride, applying just a little too much pressure than was necessary. By the time you reached the hotel you were surprised you hadn’t dampened the seat of the car with your arousal.

You watched the driver drive away after unloading you, realizing you didn’t have to pretend to be Lucas’ girlfriend anymore, feeling a twinge of regret at the thought of it. You turned to him to thank him and say your goodbyes, but he was looking at you with this look, like he wanted to say so much but didn’t know how.

“So, thank you, Lucas,” you began, holding out your hand for him to shake, but he just continued to look at you. You brought your hand down, picked up your suitcase and turned to walk into the hotel, but he stopped you with his hand on your arm.

“Hey, um,” he scratched the back of his head, eyes searching your face, “do you want a… drink, maybe? With me?”

You couldn’t help but smile, flattered at the invitation. You had been exhausted in the car but now you were wide awake, and a drink with Lucas would be a nice way to end your night.

“Sure,” you answered, “let’s go.”

“Great!” he said, his smile so dazzling you were momentarily blinded. He took your suitcase from you and carried it into the hotel along with his.

---

In the elevator you had both gone quiet again. The bar had been closed, and undeterred, Lucas had asked you if you wouldn’t mind having a drink with him in his room. You had agreed, despite your better judgment, but there was just something about him that you couldn’t resist. You walked to his room in silence, and he opened the door for you to let you in.

Once inside, your breath caught at the view from his room. It wasn’t your first time in Vegas, but the sight of the lights from the Strip always took your breath away. You went up to the window to marvel at the sight.

“Wow,” he said from behind you, his voice laden with awe.

“It’s your first time in Vegas, right?” you asked, still facing the window. He went to stand behind you, and you could feel the heat of his body on your back.

“Yes,” he answered softly, “it’s beautiful.”

You reached behind you and took his hand, placed it on your hip. He didn’t resist, just dipped his face close to your neck so you tilted your head to the side. “Y/N,” he breathed against your skin, raising goosebumps.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, and then you felt his lips, warm and soft on your neck. The sensation left you breathless, and you leaned your back against him. He put both hands on your hips now, as he continued to lavish your neck with kisses. When he hit your sweet spot you moaned, and his kisses got needier, until he was sucking on your skin. More moans tumbled out of your mouth, and then he was pressing himself hard against you.

“Y/N,” he said again, his breath coming out in harsh gasps, “is this okay?”

“Mm, please,” you answered, his actions rendering you boneless, “I want this, I want you.”

Your confession was clear to him, so he didn’t hold back. His large hands roamed over your body, his mouth still marking up your skin. You inhaled sharply when his hand went down your pants, under your panties, over your mound, long fingers swiping at the slick between your folds.

“Oh,” he groaned, “so wet.”

Your head lolled back onto his shoulder, and he turned your face to him so he could capture your lips. He kissed you, harder than he did in the car, his tongue in your throat. You gasped for air and he released your mouth, going back to sucking on your neck. He tugged at your shirt, pulling it off, unhooking your bra and freeing your breasts for him to fondle, tugging at your hardened nipples. You bit your lip at how fast he was moving, but you understood the urgency. Your pants and underwear followed in quick succession, and then you heard him undress behind you.

When you were both fully naked, he slipped a hand between your legs from behind, swirling your juices around before he slid a finger into your pussy. You moaned, and when he was satisfied with your reaction he slid another finger in. His long fingers reached your g-spot easily, and in no time you could feel the knot in the pit of your stomach forming.

“Oh god, oh Lucas,” you moaned, hands splayed on the window in front of you to ground yourself. You didn’t even care if anyone could see you, fairly certain that this kind of thing was a common occurrence in Vegas.

“Baby,” he said against your ear, “come for me.”

You came with a loud cry, head thrown back as he pumped his fingers one last time before removing them. You could hear him licking them clean, and then you felt the tip of his cock against your entrance.

“Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” he said, waiting for you to nod in agreement before he slid inside you.

He was big, which is what you had expected when you fantasized about him on the plane, but the stretch still made your breath catch in your throat. He went slowly, so slow that you could feel every inch of his cock spreading you apart. You started to pant as you took him in, and he peppered your back with kisses, as if to encourage you.

When he was all the way inside you he paused, still pressing soft kisses to your back. He didn’t move, waiting for you to say the word, and you had to marvel at his discipline.

Finally you felt you had adjusted to him enough, and you wiggled your hips. “You can move now,” you said, and you felt him smile against the back of your neck.

“I’ll go slow?” he asked, pulling out until only the tip was inside you. The slow drag of his cock was making you crazy. You wanted more.

“It’s okay, you can go hard,” you answered, and given permission, he didn’t hold back.

The force of his first thrust propelled you forward, your hands pressed against the window to prevent your face from plowing into it. His cock hit your g-spot repeatedly and with such force your mouth fell open, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your entire body flooded with warmth, the knot in your stomach starting to form again as he pounded you ruthlessly from behind.

“You feel good,” he grunted, breath hot against the back of your neck, his thrusts never faltering as he held onto your hips. “So good.”

“Lucas, I’m gonna come!” you warned, the knot in your stomach threatening to burst.

“Come on then,” he said, and you did, pussy pulsing around his cock as you reached your high. He groaned loudly, fucking you through it, his pace never slowing. You didn’t have time to recover, because he reached around to rub your clit, his thrusts getting harder and faster, but more erratic.

“Oh Y/N,” he groaned, and he dropped his forehead to your shoulder, pulling you flush against him as he came. You cried out as you came for the third time that night, his last deep thrusts and his fingers on your clit sending you to your end.

You were both panting, the sound of your breathing filling the empty room, but soon you could hear him chuckling behind you.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, amused at the sound of his quiet laughter.

“They said Vegas was crazy, but I never expected this.”

#lucas x reader #lucas imagines #wong yukhei #huang xuxi #nct lucas #wayv lucas #nct imagines #wayv imagines #nct smut #wayv smut

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hongism · 4 years ago

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all about t(h)rust - c. san + j. wooyoung 18+

day 8: threesome - choi san & jung wooyoung warnings: double penetration in two holes, explicit smut, unprotected sex, oral sex m, threesome: mmf, fingering/anal fingering, anal, oral sex f, grinding, lube, creampie, facesitting, dirty talk wc: 2.2k genre: pwp, smut, 18+

“Wait, hold on. You – you want to what?” You can hardly believe that you’re having this conversation in the living room of your shared apartment with your roommate and best friend of all people. Said best friend blinks back at you with wide and pleading eyes, hands clasped over his chest as he silently begs you to give in to the proposal. On the other hand, your roommate, San, maintains the same flat and unreadable expression that he’s had throughout this entire conversation.

“We want to know who has better thrust game!” Wooyoung explains, letting his hands fall to his lap. “And we’re too biased to do anything together because even if we do fuck, we’re still gonna be at the same conclusion.” You squeeze your eyes shut and try to ignore the mental image Wooyoung has just given you. “So, we need an outside opinion. From someone we trust. Aka you!”

“So what you’re telling me is…” You start, waving a hand in front of your face before cracking an eye open to peer at Wooyoung. “You want to fuck you, my best friend, then fuck him, my roommate? Just to tell you who is better at fucking?”

Wooyoung and San exchange a glance, brows raising a bit, then they return to looking at you.

“Yes!” Wooyoung says through a grin. There is no reason why you should agree to this – you’re certain you could come up with at least a hundred reasons why it would be a bad idea and ruin your relationship with your best friend and your roommate.

“Is there no one else you can ask?” You huff out without looking at either of them. You know that you can only see them in a sexual light at the moment; their request lingers at the edge of your thoughts and fills your mind with nothing but dirty images.

“No one else we trust the way we trust you,” San speaks up at long last, and you can’t resist the urge to look him in the eye as he talks. You aren’t sure why you actually decided to consider their proposal, but that’s how you find yourself straddling your best friend’s chin with his tongue pressed between your folds.

You aren’t wholly unoccupied in this position; San has a knee on either side of Wooyoung’s hips, his deceptively thin cock between your lips. You weren’t expecting the two of them to want to do this together. Yet, here you are on the creaky and dingy couch of your all too small apartment, all fully nude and in compromising positions. San has Wooyoung’s leaking member in one hand, fisting it in rhythm with the small bobs of your head. Wooyoung dips his tongue further into you, and his hands come up to spread you further apart for his wet muscle to penetrate deeper. You could lose yourself in the feeling, and you’ve already almost done so multiple times. San keeps bringing you back with a soft tug to your hair, pulling you deeper onto his cock.

“Fuck, you should feel how good her mouth is, Woo,” San grunts out. You accentuate his words by hollowing your cheeks around him. The groan that falls from his lips is heavenly in your ears, and it encourages you to do the same thing a few more times before pulling off with a loud pop of air. “Can’t believe I was missing out on this all this time.” San brings his free hand forward to grip your chin. A giggle escapes you, tongue peeking out to tease the corner of your lips. The smirk is wiped in an instant because Wooyoung hums against your clit. The vibrations send a tingle down your spine and your back arches.

“I don’t need her mouth on me when I can make her move like this,” he teases. Hot breath cascades over your clit, and you tighten your thighs around Wooyoung’s head.

“This isn’t about what your tongue can do,” San hisses between gritted teeth. You trace the head of his cock with your tongue, collecting a few beads of precum and tasting the saltiness with a shy smile.

“Then what are you waiting for?” You ask as you tilt your head to the side. San runs his fingers through your hair and pushes you further back, eyes stuck on the way his cock brushes your bottom lip.

“Hmm, you can get to work on Woo’s dick first,” San orders, arching a brow at the man under you. “You’ll need more prep for what we have planned.” You tilt your head in question, but Wooyoung slips out from under you and distracts your thought process.

“Turn around, baby.” He grips your hips tight enough to bruise, but the pressure isn’t uncomfortable in the slightest. You let him maneuver you into whatever position it is he’s wanting.

Before you know it, San is somewhere by the foot of the couch, and you’re the one who straddles Wooyoung’s hips. You press down hard on his twitching member, letting it slide between your folds with ease, thanks to the slick of your arousal. He groans at the sensation, a noise that swiftly devolves into a high-pitched whine when you repeat the motion a second time. The weight behind you disappears, and you glance back to see that San is no longer on the couch.

“Pay attention to me,” Wooyoung whines, reaching up to grab hold of your face. He pulls you down to his level, and his hands snake around the back of your neck until your lips meet. You greet him with a kiss full of tongue and spit; your teeth graze his lower lip in a way that has him gasping for more.

“Where did San go?” You ask, pulling away to catch your breath.

“Lube,” Wooyoung answers without hesitation. “Wanna take you at the same time.” It’s evident that he isn’t interested in talking; rather, he eyes your lips over and over until you grant him another kiss. You hover over his cherry pink lips though.

“This isn’t all about thrust, is it?” Wooyoung’s gaze flits up to meet yours. He opens his mouth to respond, but the surprised gasp that falls from your lips interrupts him. You aren’t expecting the sudden slap that comes down on your ass, and it signals San’s return to the couch.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable,” he mutters. The way his hand lingers on your ass, lube in hand, tells you all you need to know, and it isn’t hard to figure out what he wants. It’s something you’ve done on occasion with exes, although you’ve never had the pleasure of taking two cocks at once, but of all people to try it with, you would trust Wooyoung and San the most.

“No, no, I – let’s do it. I’m… y-yeah, I’m c-clean if that’s–”

“Shh, shh, you’re thinking too hard,” Wooyoung coos, running his fingers over your scalp gently. The motion calms you without a problem, and he brings you back down to his lips. The cap of the lube clicks open, and a wet squirting sound follows. Wooyoung distracts you with his tongue, dragging the muscle over your bottom lip a few times so that when San presses a single digit against your ringed hole. He pushes it in at a languid pace. Even the faint touch is enough to have your hips rolling forward, grinding down against Wooyoung’s cock where it lays hard on his stomach. San wiggles his finger around inside you but doesn’t add a second one just yet to let you grow used to the stretch.

“Can you fuck me while he fingers me?” You whisper, eyes finding Wooyoung’s dark ones. His pupils dilate a bit more, and the lust behind his irises is clearly evident. He rushes to comply, sliding a hand between your legs. Gnawing at your lower lip, you shift to let him align himself with your hole. You sink down on his member without warning. The movement draws a choked out of Wooyoung, his head tipping back and exposing the long column of his neck. Sweat glistens across the skin there, and you can’t keep from leaning over him to drag your tongue along it.

“Starting all the fun without me,” San tsks, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. He slips a second finger beside the first. The stretch isn’t enough to hurt, but it’s nothing unpleasant. As much as you want his cock in you right this instant, you don’t want him to rush it either, so you settle for sitting perched on Wooyoung’s member without moving as San works you open from behind. “I wonder how long Wooyoung can be patient, hm?”

Said man squirms a bit under you; he wants to move already and fuck up into you, that much is more than obvious. He doesn’t do anything though, eyes squeezed tight and brows drawn so close together that you can barely see the skin between them. His willpower is strong – you’ll give him that, because as San continues to work you open and scissor his fingers inside you, Wooyoung doesn’t move a muscle.

“I’m ready, Sannie,” you whine, looking back over your shoulder at the man. “I need your cock in me now.” You bat your lashes in the hopes that it’ll convince San to move faster, and he groans at your insistence. He grabs for the lube again and squirts some more onto his palm, fisting his cock a few times before guiding his tip to your fluttering hole.

“No need to be so demanding, princess.” He pushes in just a bit with his hands gripping hard at your hips. The stretch isn’t unbearable, but it is more than you initially expected. Wooyoung eyes your expression with a sudden seriousness, watching for any signs of pain. “Tell us if it’s too much,” San murmurs before sinking further into your heat.

“No, it’s – ah, it’s so nice,” you stammer, breath already labored without either man having to do much. San bottoms out with a moan, and your walls squeeze him and help pull him all the way in.

“Can I move?” Wooyoung asks. He pulls your attention back to him, and you offer a quick nod. Wooyoung lifts you a bit, then pistons his cock all the way into you again. The motion has you moaning loudly into the open air, pleasurable sensation filling your body from head to toe. The loud noises quickly fall into quiet whimpers as the breath is knocked out of you, and San joins in the rhythm of Wooyoung’s thrusts. They stagger their blows so that as one pulls out, then other fucks into you harder than before. You haven’t even reached an orgasm, yet they’ve already ruined sex for you and you’ll never be able to go back to having regular sex knowing how good this feels.

“You like that? Being stuffed with two dicks?” San hisses, leaning over you to whisper the words in your ear.

“G-God, yes, yes, Sannie, fuck – feels so good!” He catches hold of your hair and tugs you back, letting you press flush against his chest as he rocks his hips into you. Wooyoung’s thrusts stutter a bit, his breath hitches, and you think he’s gonna cum right then and there, but he holds out a bit longer to grit out his next words.

“Your pussy takes my cock so well, baby girl. I’m go-gonna cum if you keep squeezing me like that.”

“Cum in me, fuck, cum in me, Woo,” you babble. Wooyoung stills deep in you, and you feel his cock twitch inside your walls a few times before cumming with a breathless whine. It’s enough to bring you to an orgasm as well. San’s member is still thrusting in and out of your ass when you cum, and you collapse on top of Wooyoung’s chest, whimpering quietly from the overstimulation.

“Want you in my pussy too, Sannie,” you mewl. San glances down at your pleading expression and relents in an instant. “Fuck me full of cum.” He all but pushes Wooyoung away from your used cunt, replacing your friend’s cock with your own as quickly as he can.

“Such a dirty whore wanting two loads in her pretty little cunt. I suppose I can give you that, princess.” He only lasts for a few thrusts, but the sensation is better than you could have imagined, his cum filling you up alongside Wooyoung’s and leaving you with a lasting warmth. San’s head falls between your shoulder blades. His breath leaves your sweat-slick back cold, and you tuck yourself further into Wooyoung’s grasp.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” San exhales, a small laugh following.

“So,” Wooyoung starts as he pushes himself onto his elbows. “Who has better thrust game?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Does that mean me or…?”

“I think it means she needs round two to figure it out, Woo.”

“That’s not what I said!”

San chuckles and drags his lips over your skin. “You didn’t have to say it.”

“Make me dinner first then we can talk about round two.”

...

a/n: hi this is a mess again but it’s okay it’s okay we vibing

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