#catch me doing all this and then ending up playing one of those bottom two recycled ones anyway

[fukiana]

DRAGON'S DOGMA II (2024) dev. Capcom Character Creator & Storage Demo

[ohimsummer]

COLD SHOULDER ft. BULLY! SATOSUGU

—minors dni, dubcon, oral [f. receiving], bully!satosugu x fem! reader, nipple play, groping, kissing, fingering, clit stimulation, one pussy slap, pet names (princess, pretty (girl), baby, sweetheart, puppy), implied penetration at the end

wc 2.2k

It’s obvious that someone like Gojo feeds off your reactions. He tugs at your hair so you yell at him, gets in your face until you’re forced to push him away, and he loves, loves, loves, the back and forth bickering for those truly vile insults you always sling his way. He’s just obsessed with little ol’ you. Barely at height with his chest, can’t move him an inch even with your sturdiest push, and yet you remain combative to Gojo’s every action. Until you’re not.

“You know she’s been giving me the silent treatment these past few days?” The warm feel of Gojo’s breath skims the shell of your ear, warmth pooling in your core while you shrivel deeper into Geto’s chest. Gojo runs a tongue over your earlobe, and pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, white brows upturned into a sad pout, before whining, “I mean really, what’s a guy gotta do for a pretty girl’s attention around here?”

Your eyesight darts to anything else in whoever’s bedroom this is, hoping to find some kind of distraction to take your mind off of these two. Gojo’s hot, heavy pants are loud over the stifled bump of music in the main area, piercing shrieks and cheers of drunk and crazed partygoers who are none the wiser to your current dilemma. Large, curious hands wander beneath your skirt, toying with the snug waistband of your panties. Geto’s firm hold keeps your wrists bound at the curve of your back, leaving you at the fiendish mercy of his white-haired friend.

“Just look at you, all pretty and dolled up.,” Gojo hums, lips lingering over your neck as he inhales your scent, before teeth sink in to add another purplish mark on your skin. “Can’t keep my hands off ya, princess.”

You want to lash out at him, bite back with the heinous album of comments that have been building on your tongue, hopefully enough to bruise his massive ego. Or tell him to get the hell off of you and keep his filthy hands out of your space. And he knows it, Gojo can recognize that familiar look of fury in your eyes, and he just adores how you so stubbornly keep biting your tongue. The stronger your efforts, the higher his yearning to hear just a single word from you.

“Still tryin’ to ignore us?,” Geto chuckles into the crown of your head. “Shame, I love the sound of that pretty voice.” He fidgets under you, grinding himself against your ass, an intoxicating, herbal smell of drugs wafting off of him. “C’mon, Satoru, make our little puppy bark.”

“Gladly”, Gojo remarks, eyebrows wiggling at you before two fingers skim dangerously close to your core. A shiver runs through you as Gojo mashes firm fingers to your cunt, prodding at your throbbing entrance through your panties, rubbing them over your pussy and coating your underwear in slick. Your lips quiver, legs desperately moving to close but they’re hooked over his friend’s knees, and Gojo licks his lips at your response. He casts a glance over your shoulder, likely at Geto, before moving up an inch to your aching clit.

“Ha, you’re fuckin’ soaked.,” he laughs teasingly, pulling at the crotch of your panties and watching the dripping strings of fluid connect back to your cunt, before letting the fabric snap back into place. “Actin’ all tough, pff, whatever.”

The words ‘shut up’ graze the tip of your tongue, just begging to be said, but you refuse to give in. That’s all they, especially Gojo, want. To get some kind of vehement reaction from you, and you won’t allow them the pleasure. Not when Geto eases a hand up your shirt to free your tits from your bra, and not even when Gojo begins sliding your underwear down your legs.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on the plump flesh, eyes narrowing at the sight of your panties disappearing into Gojo’s pockets before he spreads your thighs even wider. Heat rushes to your face at the knowledge that your pussy is practically on display for him. His twinkling blue eyes flicker over your glistening cunt, playful as Gojo leans in to plant rough kisses and nips over the expanse of your thighs. He spreads the drenched lips of your pussy, taking in the way you tighten and squeeze in a plea to be filled, before poking an index finger at your hole. His finger sinks right in, swallowed by your wet, greedy cunt up to his knuckle before he wiggles it around inside you. Geto takes note of your hitched breathing, how your wrists defy his grip in an effort for freedom. You catch winks of flowing black next to you, almost blending in with the dark shadows of this room, before you hear his voice low in your ear:

“Feel good, darling?”, Geto studies the flutter of your lids as his friend drives shallow thrusts into you. A long, needy whine breaks free, and he huffs a small laugh. “Mm, I know.”

Gojo sighs,“Fuck…”, totally awestruck at the way his large digit just disappears amidst the gumminess of your drooling walls. He retreats from your entrance, and both you and Geto can clearly tell he’s in love with the way your slick coats and drips down his finger. A steady fire blooms across every inch of your skin as Gojo takes the messy finger in his mouth, moaning in satisfaction at the flavor of you on his tongue. He savors the taste, eyes never leaving your own, and you watch as Gojo thoroughly licks the finger clean.

“Wanna taste?,” he asks when he’s done, pink tongue darting over his lips. “Or is that gross?”

He laughs at the scowl that forms on your face. You hate how Gojo somehow reads you so well, knows you’d call him disgusting and a pervert for what he just did. Hate how, if he didn’t know before, he definitely knows now that this is turning you on, if the way you leak fluids all down your thighs and this wooden dresser is any indication.

Geto’s pinch of your nipple acts as a distraction, pulling your attention back to his feverish, one-handed assault of your breasts. His fist clenches around your wrists, and you feel the hardness of Geto’s erection on your ass when he rolls his hips against you again.

“Mph!,” you barely stifle a whimper when Gojo lands a slap on your pussy, wetness spraying onto his flushed face. The way these two keep yanking your focus in every direction has your head dizzy.

Gojo raises an eyebrow at you. “Oh, what was that? Wanna speak up, princess?”

You give a desperate shake of your head, struggling to control the heave of your breathes as he begins massaging your clit under his thumb. “You sure?” And when you glare down at him, he shrugs. “Alright, then!”

Your eyes widen as he leans in closer, tracing over you one last time, and takes your pulsating clit between his lips, a loud whine catching in your throat as Gojo gives you a harsh suck. Head falling back over Geto’s shoulder, you arch away from his body, toes curling as Gojo laps and suckles onto the aching bud. Your jaw clenches, whimpering noises bubbling up your throat as your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you can’t help the few moans and mewls that break free.

“Ah, there it is, those sweet sounds.,” Geto muses, squeezing your wrists again in warning before releasing his grip on you. He’s pleased when you make no effort to fight back, muttering a ‘good girl’ with a pinch to your ass and trails his newly free hand up the expanse of your throat. Giving it a light squeeze, he kisses the roundness of your cheek, faintly rubbing a thumb over the tensed skin of your neck, and pulls your lips towards him. Your lids flutter open a crack, blurry image of Geto’s defined features overrunning your vision, before the soft feel of his lips covers your mind in a thick fog. Without your hands or a bruising bite to stifle yourself, the noise of your high-pitched cries easily begin to flood the room, a satisfying melody for both their ears.

“Can’t keep it in anymore, pretty?,” Gojo’s muffled taunt reaches from between your thighs, vibrations of his voice on your clit sending a twitch throughout your legs.

You can’t see him, only the mess of white hairs from the corner of your vision, but you can feel the penetration of his tongue, how it traces the surface of your walls, determined to mark every inch within reach. He uses thick fingers to bully your pulsating clit with rough circles and sharp pinches, rolling the hardened nub in his mouth between laps and broad strokes of his tongue, all of which easily drive out loud, needy whines you couldn’t even hope to hold back anymore.

“Keep making those lovely sounds, darling.” Geto moans into your mouth, sucking on your tongue before biting at your bottom lip. “Show Satoru how good he’s making you feel.”

Hot pants brush over your pussy, but Gojo continues his abuse of your clit. “Yeah, baby, talk to me, hm?”

The words, whether they were praise or an insult, because at this point you don’t know, get stuck in your throat, leaving room for only a choked sob to fall out as your hips mindlessly rut against Satoru’s fingers. Geto tightens his fist around your throat, leaving you struggling for already difficult breathes, his fingers still pinching and tugging at the pebbled skin of your nipples. The warmth in your abdomen has blossomed into a raging fire, muscles spasming as you gasp against Geto’s face, curses of ‘f–fuck–!’ and ‘shit!’ leaving your kiss-swollen lips at the sensation of your rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Hey, princess…,” Gojo catches your half-lidded gaze, tears building at the corners of your eyes. “Better talk to me or you don’t get to cum, got it?”

You twist your lips in a scowl, mind too dizzy but you know he means what he says, and you think you’d pass out and die if he took your orgasm from you when you were so close. He’s such an asshole, of course he’d hold your orgasm ransom just to get a few half-baked remarks out of you. Gojo's eyes peer into your own, head slightly tilted as he watches you weigh the options in your mind.

“F–,” he raises a brow expectantly, azure eyes widening in anticipation, trained on your lips as you hesitate on your words. “Fuck you, Gojo.”

And you’d think someone had just offered him all the money in the world the way his eyes light up, gleaming cerulean blues that crease under the giant grin on his face.

“Ah!,” he teases, shortly relishing in the moan you let out as he stuffs a third finger into your cunt. “There it is! Been dyin’ to say that to me all day, haven’t ya?”

You try and focus on something else, anything else to drown out his incessant mockery. But all that’s on your mind is Geto’s tongue down your throat, and his strong hand restricting your airflow, and Gojo still talking as his fingers curl to press into that spongy spot inside you–

“S–Satoru!,” you cry out, legs quaking as the coil in your tummy snaps, and your pussy gushes around his fingers.

Gojo stares, thoroughly bewitched by the way his name fell off your lips, and the cum drooling from your pussy, remnants of it dripping down his face and embedding into his clothes. “Holy shit…”He absentmindedly runs his thumb over the mess of your still-spasming cunt, barely taking in when you jolt under his touch.

“Stop it, Gojo, ‘m sensitive.,” you murmur between Geto's softened, sporadic kisses.

Your voice draws his attention, and suddenly Gojo is extremely aware of the aching hardness between his legs. He reaches down to palm at himself, hissing at the press of his hand against the bulge, before standing up from his kneeled position.

“Just look what you did, got me stiff as shit down here.,” Gojo huffs, undoing his pants to allow his cock some much-needed air.

You watch, dumbstruck, as the large appendage springs free. Even in the dim light of this room, you can see the redness of his tip, dick bobbing, precum dribbling down the length of it as Gojo takes a step closer, lining himself up with your entrance before rubbing up and down your slit.

Your eyes widen in surprise and you wriggle, only accomplishing to rub your sensitive clit against the head of his cock and Gojo sighs out a breath. “I-I said–!”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard ya.,” he interjects, rubbing two hands over your thighs. Gojo takes the back of your knees, holding your legs up higher to essentially fold you in half, and presses his hips forward, watching your cunt threaten to swallow his tip. “Maybe it’s good that you’re all sensitive, now. Might get ya talking some more for us, no?”

You angrily narrow your eyes at him, whining at the burn of his fat tip stretching you out. “No.”

And Gojo’s smirk widens. “Yeah, baby, just like that.”

[mikkomacko]

Him and I - Lovesick

Pairing: Nico hischier x reader, mob boss Nico

Warnings: Little bit of smut, whole lot of Nico being down bad for his girl. (Not proofread at all so bear with me for a couple of days)

A/n: I decided to split this into two because it was really getting away from me so prepare for our last chapter in Switzerland coming soon. Other than that, happy reading!!!

____________________________________________

When you were fifteen, you had your first real injury. It wasn’t anything traumatic that still keeps you up at night or anything life altering. But it did make you realize a few things about yourself.

Freshman year, your first year on a real soccer team that required try outs and everything. Nothing like your intro league years. You’d been pulled up to the varsity team. Not starting or anything, but filling in on wing for the backup of the junior that had gotten sick.

It was fun. It was also your chance of proving yourself to be varsity ready.

You remember running down the left wing, pushing yourself to pass the center that was taking the ball up. You remember looking over, locking eyes with her and yelling “give and go!”

And she had. A slick pass directly to your feet. All you had to do was get around the defender in front of you, pass across and catch the center again for a toe-in goal.

The only thing is that you didn’t get past the defender. Instead the two of you collided into a heap that sent to ball out of bounds and sent you flying into the grass.

Your arm burned. It was almost immediate. No numb feeling, no adrenaline. It was like someone lit a fire under your skin, dead center in the middle of your forearm.

You had broken your arm in the end. A break so bad that it required surgery to realign and months of healing and therapy to get back to normal.

It didn’t matter though. All that mattered was the defender you had tackled. In the fall, your cleat had caught her in the thigh, made a gash so deep it soaked the grass beneath you. Her shorts were stained, your jersey was wet and sticky, and your cleat was the culprit.

It was terrible. You felt terrible. Of course it was an accident, but it was still caused by you. The girl had cried when you and one of her teammates helped her up, carried her limping over to her bench.

And then the ref directed you to your bench because your arm was hanging a bit odd and already turning purple.

A few weeks later you found out the girl quit soccer. After your surgery, you did too. Not because your mama insisted or because you thought you couldn’t play anymore with a bum arm.

But because you felt guilty every time you saw your cleats. Every school dance or homecoming game when you saw that girl, you felt guilty.

You learned that you don’t have a hard time moving past the things that hurt you, but rather the things that hurt those around you.

That’s what you think about as you finish reading the messages on Lena’s old phone. You can feel Nico’s gaze on you, waiting for you to react. He knows you’ve finished reading them, was watching you scroll through the thread and reach the bottom.

“Look through it all, if you want,” he had said when he handed it to you. “Photos, social media, whatever. But the texts are what I wanted you to see.”

You don’t need to see anything else. It doesn’t matter if she had a thousand followers on instagram or a high snap score. It doesn’t matter what gossip and plans she had in her group chat with her friends.

All that matters is that she wanted to hurt Nico. She did hurt Nico and she used you to do it. You can’t believe it really. She claims to love him in the texts, she told Marcello that she’s always loved him and she deserves him back. She’s what he needs.

You’re so sick and tired of people hurting Nico and claiming it’s love.

Locking the phone, you place it on the bedside table to be trashed or tossed later. None of you need it anymore, you all know everything.

“Are you ok?”

He’s sitting at the foot of the bed, right leg hanging over the edge and left one bent towards you. His hand rests on the jean clad thigh, fingers twitching when you shift onto your knees.

Nico always looks at you so sweetly, expressive eyes so full of love, and that doesn’t change now. Even when you can tell by the pout of his lips that he’s worried about how you’ll react.

“Yeah,” you say meekly, tongue feeling dry. You knee your way down the duvet, gripping his shoulder for balance as you climb into his lap. “Are you?”

Nico’s hands find your hips, cocking his head to the side. “What? Yeah of course I’m ok.”

A strand of hair falls in front of his eyes and you twirl it around your pointer finger, tuck it behind his ear. “She hurt you Nico,” you say, a little confused.

“She hurt you baby.”

“Well yeah,” you agree, caressing the side of his neck. “But she did it to hurt you. And then she said it was out of love.”

Nico’s watching you carefully, dark eyes taking in every detail of your face. You wonder what he’s looking for, what he’s expecting you to say. Probably not this if he’s reacting so timidly.

“People like to hurt you,” you continue, hesitantly. You don’t want to say this in a way that makes it sound like his fault. Because you know he’d take the blame, he always blames himself. “People that are supposed to love you and support you, they don’t do it the way they should Nico.”

The furrow between his eyebrows smoothes out, lips parting and he makes a noise of understanding. “I didn’t love her, so I didn’t expect her to love me either. No matter what she says.”

“She did love you Nico,” you tighten your hold on him like you’re trying to physically squeeze the idea that he’s lovable into him. “I think she really loved you at one point but it turned bad.”

“I still didn’t love her though.” He insists.

Frustrated, you groan and tuck your face into his shoulder, needing a second to figure out what you’re saying to him. Nico squeezes your hip, draws your weight close into him.

“Explain it to me baby,” his breath is warm against your cheek, nose pressing into your jaw. “what are you-what’s going on, huh?”

Holding his shoulders, you sit back on your haunches and look at him. “You deserve so much love Nico, and every time I’m reminded that someone here didn’t love you the way they should, it makes me so mad.

“Love isn’t about what someone gains from being with you or can use you for. And I know you say it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care but I care for you. You’re the best person I’ve ever met Nico, and I think you deserve so much love that it makes you feel like your heart is gonna explode-“

Nico kisses you hard and desperate, right hand gripping the back of your head and holding you steady. There’s a moment of surprise, Nico nipping at your frozen lips. The action startles you and you melt into him, allowing him the opportunity to deepen the kiss licking into your mouth. It’s messy and wet, but passionate. Nico’s always been a good kisser, and he always speaks with his actions when words fail him.

“I spend,” he mutters breathlessly, words pressed into your bottom lip. “Every day of my life trying to explain what your love feels like.”

You open your eyes to find his already watching you, faces so close together that his thick lashes and chocolate eyes take up your whole view. “It feels like I can never catch my breath, like my heart is always racing. But it’s so calming, so sure at the same time.

“You don’t need to worry about anyone else trying to break my heart. It belongs to you, all of it. And I know you’ll protect it.”

It doesn’t really make sense if you think about it. That you make his heart race but calm him at the same time. You get it though, understand what he means because you feel the same way.

“That’s what we do. Protect each other, right?”

He smiles, pecks your lips softly and you know that’s him agreeing. That’s the leadership he’s always implemented into the Devs, into the family. Protect each other above all else. He’s your family, the only one you’ve got left. You’ll always protect him.

~~~~

The paper crinkles under your weight, cracking loudly in the otherwise silent room with each swing of your legs. You feel like a kid again, sock clad feet swaying in the air while Nico watches you, your clothes folded in a pile on his lap.

It’s an odd feeling and you realize that it’s because this is the first time you’ve ever actually been to a hospital or doctor since meeting Nico.

In the family, everything is done at home. Typically by you or Johnny, but Nico’s gotten pretty good at playing doctor for you too.

You look over at him, find him staring down at your clothes with a pinch between his eyebrows. He’s got the fabric of your bra pinched between his fingers, running his thumb over the lace cup contemplatively. Slowly, you stop moving your legs, not wanting to catch his attention.

It’s a moment later that he looks up, eyes widening when he realizes he’s been caught and you giggle. “Whatcha doing?”

“This one’s nice,” he shrugs, tucking the bra back into the middle of the pile, hidden underneath your sweater. “I don’t- is it new?”

You laugh again. “You recognize all my bras now or what?”

“Well yeah usually.” He bristles. “Am-“

The door to the exam rooms opens and Nico clamps his mouth shut, that boyish look morphing into one of neutrality. If anything he looks bored.

“Hello, hello,” your doctor greets, tossing a file folder onto the desk. You greet her, smiling politely for both you and Nico. “How are we feeling?”

“Great,” you answer immediately, and she steps by your knees, unclipping the flashlight from her coat pocket. You don’t need to be told what to do as she shines the light in your eyes, you following the random pattern she makes with it.

Satisfied, she turns the light off and tucks it away, hands on her hips as she smiles at you. “Well your scans came back clear, you look perfect from what I can tell, and you reported no lingering side effects?”

You nod in confirmation, smiling proudly. No soreness, no neck pain, no dizziness or vomiting, and best of all; no headaches.

“And the wound is all healed up. There’s barely a scar.”

You’re eager, you know that. Almost childlike as you sit on your hands, wiggling your toes with excitement. “So I can go home? I’m clear to fly?”

The doctor laughs, glancing over at Nico when she nods. “Yes you’re clear for anything and everything. If you feel any nausea or migraines, I’d slow down. But you seem perfectly healthy Miss. Hischier.”

It’s not a Mrs but it’s close enough, makes butterflies swarm in your gut and you warm at the thought of Nico checking you into the hospital under his name that day. If he even did check you in. You’re not sure how mob controlled hospitals run. Maybe Nico just ran in with you and told them all you were a Hischier.

Either way it makes your heart swell. You look over at him, a beaming smile on your lips so big it makes your cheeks ache. Nico neck is pink, the flush just beginning to reach his cheeks and despite the bashful smile that curls at his lips, he winks at you, something cheeky put proud glinting in his eyes.

~~~~

“Anything and everything.”

That’s what the doctor said and that’s what you think about as Nico slides the driver seat back, giving him more room to stretch his legs out.

The restaurant you’re supposed to be meeting everyone at is just across the street, Swiss flags hanging from the iced over patio. The name is French you think, but a sticker in the window reads SUPPORT LOCAL BUSINESS in big thick letters. It’s kinda funny, Swiss local but French.

Nico said it was one of his favorites when he made the reservation, so you assume he’s eaten there a lot. He made it sound popular, like the reservation was needed in order to get in but as you look through the tinted window of the SUV, it looks closed. You can’t see anyone at the tables in the windows, no guests going in or out.

The reservation isn’t for another 30 minutes. You could probably go in early since they don’t look busy, but then you’re looking over at Nico, right hand scratching at the scruff of his beard. He’s got his phone in the other, scrolling through what looks like a confirmation email but you’re not really looking at that.

No you’re looking at his hands, long and thick fingers, veins running down the backs of his hands in a way that’s the perfect balance of pretty and manly. Then you’re looking at his face, the way his eyelashes curl just enough to frame his eyes, to soften them. His dark eyebrows that make him look far more intimidating and harsh than he should with his doe-eyes and dimples.

The slope of his nose, not really curved or gentle looking in any way but when he’s off guard like this, when he’s comfortable, makes him look so cute. And his beard that he’s still yet to shave, following your whining and begging by letting it grow out far too long. But it makes him look scruffy and warm, like a teddy bear you just want to snuggle into.

Anything and everything, you think as warmth stirs in the pit of your belly. You take off your seat belt, turning to face him over the center console. Nico drops his phone in the cupholder, mirroring your actions.

“What?” He says, tucking his hair behind his ears and up into his backwards hat. You blink, biting at your lip. How long has it been? Since the day Lena took you, so a little over a week.

Which might not be a crazy amount of time, but for you and Nico it is. Especially when he looks like that.

“Did you hear the doctor?”

He looks you up and down, gaze lingering on where you’ve tangled your fingers in the fabric of your sweater. When he meets your eyes, they’re sparkling with amusement.

“I did.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, looking at him impatiently and expectantly. Nico makes no move, simply staring back at your begging and downright desperate glare.

“Anything and everything Nico,” you repeat, a whining edge to your voice. This would be so much easier if he’d just reach over and touch you, guide you over the console and into his lap.

You could ride him, you think excitedly. You haven’t done that in a while and it’s easy in the car. Or maybe ask for his fingers, those beautiful fingers that are resting on his thick thighs. It all sounds so good, too good.

“I heard the doctor baby,” he says with mirth, eyebrow raising when you huff in annoyance. Then he’s laughing, eyes crinkling and you cross your arms over your chest, leaning back into the door and glaring at him. Unfortunately it resembles more of a childlike pout than anger, if Nico’s ever growing amusement is anything to go by.

“Alright, what do you want from me?” He asks through a laugh, looking over at the screen to check the time. “We’ve only got like 20 minutes, and I’m not fucking you in the car when my family will be walking by any second.”

You pout even more, all begging eyes and a sweet little frown you know he can’t say no too. Especially not when you flutter your eyelashes at him, mumbling out a pathetic little “please Nico?”

He groans, head falling back against the window and he squeezes his eyes shut. Without word he blindly grabs his phone, opening his eyes back up to look at you sternly.

“You do what I say and you don’t whine about it, got it?”

You’re already agreeing, nodding your head like a bobble head and sitting up straighter to follow whatever lead he gives you. Much to your surprise, he kills the engine and takes the keys out of the ignition, reaching for the door handle.

“Backseat,” is all he says before climbing out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Following blindly, you scramble to climb over the console and into the backseat, awkwardly collapsing onto your elbow with your legs still tangled in the front seat when Nico tugs open the back door.

He pauses, looks at you for a second and then chuckles. “Oh this is so sexy,” he jokes, slipping into the car and shutting his door. You shift, somehow managing to get your feet into the backseat and then you’re settling onto your knees beside him.

“Shut up,” you reply, forcing your hands to sit patiently on your knees even though they’re aching to touch Nico, to hold his face and kiss him.

He’s still smiling, thoroughly amused, and nods towards the drivers seat in front of him. “Pull it forward for me.”

He couldn’t have asked you to do this before you crawled back here? You know he’s messing with you, having a good time with the fact that you’re so desperate you’re willing to break your neck crawling around the car. It’s a little embarrassing. And yet you do it anyway.

Huffing, you lean back over the center console, balanced on one elbow and stretching your hand out to the side of the drivers seat.

“This is dehumanizing Nico.” You complain, fingers finding the button. The seat starts inching forward and suddenly a large hand is grabbing at your ass, fingers palming you through your jeans.

“I think you look good.”

You fold under Nico’s hands, muscles going slack and slumping into the console. The seat is as far forward as it can go, you think, so it doesn’t really matter now. You hear Nico move behind you, feel the warmth of his body get closer and then his other hand is reaching around your waist, deft finger finding the button of your jeans.

“Nico…”

He chuckles, breathless, and drags the zipper down. Then he’s taking a hold of your hips, tugging you backwards until you get the hint to push yourself up and slip into the backseat again.

You collapse into the middle seat, feeling hot and stuffy in your sweater and jeans, Nico leaning over you. He looks so good, dark eyes and pink cheeks, that stupid hat that always makes him look so handsome.

Then he’s kissing you, cupping the back of your head and slipping his tongue into your mouth. The whole world goes fuzzy around you, the only sound in the car are those little noises and breathes that Nico lets out into your mouth. All you can feel is his hands and his lips, turning you into mush and then remolding you however he pleases.

He gets you laid out on your back, one foot on the car floor and the other hanging over the seats. You knock the hat off his head, tangle your fingers in his hair instead and he’s moves to your neck, mouthing over your pulse. His hands shove your sweater up, run over the warm and sweaty skin of your stomach and ribs before he’s grabbing the edge of your jeans and yanking them down your thighs.

It’s awkward and messy, you accidentally kick him as your pants tug your leg down from the seats. Nico just grunts, pulling back to sit on his haunches and he’s rough and annoyed as he wrangles your boots and pants off, tossing them into the front seat.

You want his jacket off too, you think hazily, blinking to try and focus. All you can look at are his bitten lips, bright red and swollen. The car is so hot, he’s so hot. You don’t know how he’s wearing all those layers so you reach out for the hem of his top, not even getting close to touching him before he’s shuffling into the space you made when you slid the drivers seat forward.

He barely fits down there, hunched forward uncomfortably and legs tangled under him but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Nico licks his lips, dark eyes settling on the pair of cotton panties you’re wearing and he’s pushing your leg up onto the front seat, parting your thighs around him.

The noise that leaves you is pathetic, a mix between desperate and embarrassed because you know he can tell how wet you are, how the image of him doing awful things with his mouth and hands has been torturing you all day.

“I know baby,” he soothes, fingers rubbing tenderly at the inside of your thigh. His thumb finds the damp spot on your underwear, dipping in until the pad of his thumb is teasing at your hole.

“Please,” you gasp, eyes screwing shut. His touch burns under your skin, pulls every muscle in your body so tight you feel like you could explode. “Please Nico.”

It sounds more like a sob than an actual sentence, your voice whining and desperate. But Nico likes that, you can see it in the little smirk on his face when your eyes flutter open just long enough to meet his over the dips of your body.

Nico’s thumb tugs your underwear to the side. You lean back into the seat, staring up at the closed sunroof of the car and then Nico’s diving in. His tongue licks a flat strip up your pussy, nose swiping up your clit as he moves and you grab at his hair, arching into his face.

The thick hair of his beard is scratchy against your thighs, the hair long enough that it’s more soft than prickly and it feels so good. His tongue settles against your clit, making soft little circles that have you digging your fingers into his scalp.

He’s sloppy with his work, dripping spit from his mouth all over you, gently teasing your clit until your wound all the way up and then sucking it into his mouth. It’s too much, so good that you’re crying out for him but not coming just yet. And he knows that, knows that he has to be sweet and soft on that sensitive spot if he wants you to come.

Which is why he isn’t doing it. Letting you get close once, twice, and then a third time before starting all over. You huff, frustrated and knowing that the two of you need to hurry if you want to make him come too.

You pull at his hair, just enough to make it sting and he grunts into your pussy, digs his nails into your thigh until it hurts. But he’s slowing down after that, replacing the rough nips of his teeth with his plush lips.

A fingers swipes at your hole, has you desperately clenching around nothing and you make another embarrassed noise at him. Lifting your head, you look down at him through wet eyes but he’s not looking at you. Baby hairs stick to his damp forward, flattened under your palm. Crease between his eyebrows, eyes closed in focus and those long eyelashes of his tickle the flushed skin of his cheekbones. His nose is pressed into your mound, so close to you that you can’t see much. But you can see the way his jaw moves and ticks which every flick of his tongue.

Fuck, he’s beautiful, you think achingly. You wish he would talk to you, say something in that deep, raw voice he gets when he’s turned on.

Nico’s finger eases into you, thick and warm, and you flop back into the seats, whining desperately. You try to form the words in your head, hear his voice like you have so many times before.

“Sweet girl.”

“Taste so good, baby, doing so fucking good for me.”

“Make me feel so good,”

He curls his finger, prods at the sensitive spot of your walls and you hear him groan, feel it against your clit. You can practically hear what’s he’s thinking.

“You’re so wet, all for me.”

The rubber band in your belly snaps, all the orgasms that he built up before and then took away suddenly hitting you. Hard and fast. You clench around him, thighs tightening and twitching and Nico’s pets you through it. Wiggles and curls his fingers, lazily licks at your clit.

You hear him more than actually feel him pull away, sensitive and throbbing still as he wiggles his way off the floor. It’s his grunt of annoyance, the sound of his knee cracking as he gets up that makes you open your eyes, hands dropping from his hair onto your stomach.

Nico’s above you, hair hanging over his forehead and eyes bright. The whole bottom half of his face is wet, lips shiny and red but he’s smiling, teeth pearly white.

You tilt your chin up, puckering your lips and he easily obliges. He kisses you, soft and sweet with those swollen lips of his.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles into your lips, and chills run down your spine. He sounds exactly like you knew he would, rough and husky. You peck his mouth again, humming in appreciation as you reach for the front of his jeans

Your fingers have just found the button of his jeans when he grips your wrist and pulls your hand back.

“Nico,” you whine in protest, pulling back to frown at him but he’s already shaking his head.

“Don’t have time,” he mumbles into the skin of your cheek, kissing at your smile lines.

“That’s not fair! I wanted-“

He interrupts, tone not angry but definitely not up for debate. “I told you I wasn’t fucking you in the car.”

You look between where he’s leaning over you, mouth watering at the bulge in the front of his jeans. Nico takes your chin between his fingers, squeezes just once in warning and makes you look up at him.

“You’re gonna be good for me,” he instructs, “we’re gonna get cleaned up and get out of the car. And then we’re gonna go inside and eat lunch with everyone, and you’re gonna be the sweet girl I know you are, ok?”

“Ok,” you mumble, sad eyes blinking up at him.

“We’re gonna have a good time, Timo’s excited for you to meet his mom.”

You perk up at that. “I am too.”

Nico smiles, lets go of your face and presses a sweet kiss to the tip of your nose. “Can take care of me later at home, ok?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, kissing him again. His beard is so soft, he’s so warm and snuggly you never want to let him go.

“One more kiss and then we gotta go.”

You agree, pressing your lips back to his.

~~~~

Nico’s rented the whole restaurant for the day. He wanted private meal with his family and friends, something intimate and fun before you guys leave for Jersey.

They pushed tables together in the center of the room, crowded chairs around it into something that resemble the overly large dining table you have at home to seat all the Devs.

Nico takes your jacket for you when you too enter the building, hanging it with the stacks of other coats at the front. Then he’s shrugging his off, placing it with yours and you realize that while you two were busy in the car, everyone else beat you here.

They’re already sat around the table. Katja and Rino at the far end, facing the door. Luca and Nina on either side, tall mugs of frothy beer in front of them.

The four boys are after them, Jack and Luke on one side and Dawson and Alex across. Timo and a blonde woman, almost an exact copy of him are next to Luke. Meaning the two chairs next to Alex are obviously for you and Nico. You can already hear the argument Alex made to get you to sit next to him, and you can see the look Timo probably gave him.

“There they are!”

It’s Luca, chair scraping against the floor as he rises. Nico presses his hand into your lower back, guiding you around the table to say hi to everyone. You hug Luca and Katja, share an awkward hand shake with Rino before Nina is squeezing you into an embrace. She makes you try a sip of her beer, laughing when you only scrunch your nose a tiny bit before half heartedly muttering “s’so good.”

Nico hugs her, lightheartedly pulling on her braid and telling her to leave you alone. Jack climbs up from his chair, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you like he hasn’t seen you in days.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” he exclaims and you laugh as he cups your face. “Oh way too pretty for that one I’ll tell ya.”

And then Nico is swatting him away from you, pushing you along. You squeeze Luke’s shoulder as you pass, smiling widely when you get to Timo and his mother, who immediate jumps to hug Nico.

They speak in German, Nico’s tone somehow shy as she goes on and on towards him. You don’t know what they’re saying, but you smile at Nico anyway before giving Timo a hug. It feels like you haven’t seen him in days.

“Claudia, have I introduced you to my-“

“No this is my best friend!” Timo interrupts, sliding up next to you. “Budge over Hischier, we were friends before you started dating.”

Nico mutters something in German to Timo but places a kiss on your head and then moves to go sit down.

“Mom, this is y/n,” Timo introduces. “She’s the one I tell you about all the time.”

His mother, Claudia, is just like her son. She doesn’t hold back, shoving her son to the side and hugging you.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you!” She gushes in a thick accent. “Timo is always talking about you and that dog of yours.”

You laugh, hugging her back. “He’s always talking about you too.” She holds your face, blue eyes looking at you with so much warmth it makes you look away shyly.

“Oh you’re precious,” she laughs, brushing your hair away from your face and something in your heart throbs, recalls all the times your mother used to do the same.

You thank her quietly, sharing a tiny smile with Timo before moving to sit with Nico. Dawson gives you a peace sign as you get closer, sipping at a cocktail through a little straw and you ruffle his hair. Taking your seat, you lean over and press a kiss to Alex’s cheek, sharing a short hug.

Conversation picks up again, a waiter drops off two menus for you and Nico, and you sit back and watch Claudia speak with Katja and Rino in Swiss German. She has so many mannerisms like Timo, from the way she tilts her head when she speaks to the way she fiddles with her hair.

“You two were out there for a while,” Timo says, leaning into you and Nico, lifting his menu up to shield his words from everyone else. Your heart jumps, already knowing where this was going.

“Were we?” Nico says, disinterested and you mentally thank the universe for him and his ability to play aloof. An ability he performs perfectly.

Timo raises an eyebrow, not buying his oldest friend’s innocent act. “We got here 20 minutes ago and you two were parked out there.”

Needing something to do with your hands, you fiddle with the edge of your sweater and give Timo a confused look.

“It wasn’t that long,” you insist, and Nico shakes his head before adding, “You’re terrible with time when you don’t feel good.”

“Oh?” Timo gasps quietly, “you’re not feeling good?”

Clearing your throat, your frown at him, hoping to god it looks genuine. “I just felt a little funky after my scan.”

Timo pouts. “Oh no.”

“Yeah, needed a second to just chill I guess.”

“Mhm,” he nods, sipping his water and looking at you with sympathetic eyes.

“So Nico took care of me.”

“M’sure he did.”

Nico chokes on his spit next to you, caught off guard by the sudden suggestiveness from Timo. He coughs, clearing his throat as you rub at his back and glare at Timo.

“I don’t think you want me to elaborate on that,” you insist and Nico clears his throat again, his hand coming over to rest on your thigh as he shifts uncomfortably in his chair. A teasing grin takes over Timo’s face, but you put a stop to him before he can keep going. “Because then I’ll probably have to go all the way back to when I hung out alone for two hours so you could play lover boy to your teenage sweetheart?”

Timo’s face falls, eyes widening in fear and he glances at Nico, whose grip has suddenly grown stronger on your thigh.

“You left her alone?” Nico demands, and you cover his hand with yours, stroke at the veins on the back of it and over his knuckles. Knuckles that not even an hour ago were buried inside you.

Blinking away the dirty image that’s swirling in your brain, you faux smile at Timo. “I don’t think you really want to explain that one right now, do you?”

He huffs, annoyed with you for bringing up the activities he took place in that day after the ice skating rink. You didn’t even get to meet his girl before he was begging to drop you off at the house for just a couple hours so he could see her.

“You’re evil,” he mutters, and you laugh. You don’t keep anything from Nico, he knows that. If you could, you’d tell Nico about every second of every moment you’ve ever had apart from him. “You two deserve each other, really.”

It’s probably meant as some kind of insult or dig by the way he hisses it, but you and Nico both turn to each other and smile, the same sappy lovesick look on your faces.

~~~~

“What do you feel like eating baby?” Nico asks, flipping open the menu in front of him. You leave yours folded on the table, leaning into his bicep took at his instead and he shifts so you can read it easier.

Instead you can’t read it at all. The entire thing is in French, swirly cursive letters on the card stock pages, and while you can guess what a couple words mean, there’s not even photos of signature dishes or anything.

“Uh Nico,” you say quietly, looking up at him. He hums in acknowledgment, eyes still sweeping over the menu. “I can’t read French.”

An amused smile cracks at his lips, gaze flickering down to you and two dimples sink into his cheeks. “Yeah, I know.” He murmurs. “S’why I asked what you want.”

Sighing, you pinch at his elbow in retaliation before looking back at the menu. You still can’t read it, not that you were expecting to sudden be able to, but Nico gives you a moment to stare at it anyway.

“Pasta?” You ask, hopefully and he points at a list of meals on the right page. “S’got chicken and like a white sauce.” He explains. “Want that one?”

“Yeah,” you agree, lifting your head to press a kiss to his cheek in thanks. His cheek dimples again and he moves to settle his arm on the back of your chair.

Alex says your name quietly, and when you turn to him he’s looking at you with big, puppy eyes. He’s holding him menu in front of him, a shy smile on his face.

“Will you tell Nico to order for me?” He asks sheepishly, and you laugh, agreeing. And then you catch Dawson behind him with that same shy look, and across the table Jack and Luke are staring at you helplessly.

None of them know French either. Good going Nico, you think, trying not to laugh.

“Schoa,” you sing teasingly, “the boys need your help ordering.” Nico sets his menu down, raising an eyebrow as he too looks around the table. Timo is grinning at him, obviously as amused as you are. His siblings and parents seem oblivious to the conversation going on, but Claudia is looking at all of you like she’s watching a show play out in front of her very eyes.

“They’re your kids,” he grumbles, but he’s already grabbing his menu again and leaning forward in his seat. “Timo help those two clowns,” he instructs, nodding towards the brothers.

Timo sighs but doesn’t argue, him and Claudia going about translating the menu to Jack and Luke. Then you’re letting Nico lean over you to tell Alex and Dawson about the food, offering little ooh’s and aah’s when something sounds good.

You realize Nico is telling them about specific foods you know they like. Seafood for Dawson, who is always craving some kind of lobster dish or sushi or really anything that probably has scales at one point. And soups and breads for Alex, anything filling and a lot of carbs because he’s a comfort food kind of person, always.

For as much as he likes to denies caring for the boys and insists that they’re just his workers, just kids following him around, he sure doesn’t act like it. It’s sweet that he knows what they’d want to eat, that while he was reading the menu earlier he had noticed which foods they’d probably get.

It makes your heart shudder painfully in your chest, overwhelmed with feelings that you can’t even explain anymore. It’s so much more than just loving Nico. He’s…everything to you.

You look over to his parents. Rino is looking over his menu, face stoic and unimpressed. Katja has a smile on her face, but it looks more rehearsed than anything real. She’s drinking the wine in her glass, lazily listening to Nina and Luca talk.

How someone so full of life and light, so loving in everything he does came from the relationship existing at the end of the table, you have no idea. But something made him this incredible, this caring so you have to applaud Katja and Rino for that at least.

He’s still debating a meal with Dawson, huffing and sighing as he awkwardly takes up your space but you don’t mind. You reach up, smooth your hands up the back of his dark cardigan and fiddle with the soft strands of hair sticking out of his baseball cap.

Nico doesn’t react, but you can feel the way his body seems to preen under your touch. Across the table, Katja meets your eye and the two of you share secret smiles.

~~~~

Listening to Nico speak French makes you feel like your bones are melting, in the best way possible. Nico’s voice in general has always been nice, deep and manly in a way that scratches at your brain just right. And it’s even more attractive when he’s speaking in Swiss German, his accent making the words sound like beautiful nonsense to you.

But in French…well he just sounds so romantic. If you had to give a voice to the storybook Prince Charming in your head, it’d be Nico in French. The words are soft and sweet, a perfect contrast to the rumble of his voice. Even if you don’t know what he’s saying as he sends the waiter off with a dessert order.

“You don’t know French y/n?”

You’re too busy trying to keep your jaw off the floor to realize Rino, who hasn’t said a word to you all meal, is suddenly addressing you. That is until Nico is looking over at you, lips curling into a smile as he takes in the moony way you’re watching him.

“No she doesn’t,” he answers for you through an amused laugh, and you blink, suddenly recalling that the question was directed at you and not Nico.

“Sorry, no I don’t,” you quickly apologize, face hot with embarrassment. The other Devs boys don’t bat an eye to you going goo-goo eyes at Nico, but you can feel the knowing little looks from Nina and Luca, both of whom have told you they’re not used to seeing Nico all lovey. It makes you feel shy for some reason, like you shouldn’t be letting them see this side of him.

Rino quirks an eyebrow, the expression looking far too similar to Nico’s unimpressed look than you’d prefer. “No German either?”

You shake your head. “My family is Italian, so I grew up speaking that at home and English at school.”

“I forget the American education system disregards languages,” Rino mumbles, then forces a smile. “Our children here learn three languages at school.”

Nico shifts in his seat, stretching his arm across your waist like some kind of protective seatbelt that’ll keep you from his father. His hand is warm and strong on your thigh, reassuring and safe.

“We can go,” he says quietly in your ear, “lunch is over if you want it to be.”

“It’s no problem,” you assure to the table, words more directed at Nico. He squeezes your thigh, eyes searching yours for a moment and when he finds nothing but certainty there, he retreats back into his chair.

“I uh I tried Spanish at school for a while too but I kept getting the words mixed up with Italian. So uh yeah, just the Italian.”

You laugh awkwardly, heart thundering in your chest and you glance at Alex who’s watching you with a furrow between his eyebrows. Then he’s pursing his lips, shoulders back and he looks to Rino.

“It’s a good thing too,” he says, conversationally. “Italian is important in Jersey, she gets a lot of deals done for us because she can speak with the clients.”

Finally, something like genuine curiosity flashes in Rino’s eyes, so quickly you would’ve missed it had you not been staring at him helplessly.

“Nico, you take her on deals?”

Your boyfriend throws an arm around your shoulders, pride glimmering in his eyes as he smirks at his father. “Yeah I do. What’s mine is hers.”

“She’s better at it too,” Luke tosses at Nico, a teasing tone to his words but underneath, you can feel how genuinely he says it. “All the planning and details, Nico’s too impatient for that.”

“Plus he’s a grump,” Jack then adds, and while you always hate when they gripe on Nico, it warms your heart to see them doing it to praise you to Nico’s family.

Dawson is the next to offer his two cents. “And he doesn’t have a college degree, unlike Miss. Ivy Leagues.”

Nico squeezes your shoulder when you shake your head at all the boys, on the verge of politely telling them that none of it’s a big deal. You turn to him, cheeks warm and smile shy but he looks so fucking happy, so proud of you that you can’t bring yourself to counteract all their words.

If Nico can love you that much, can radiate sunshine when talking about you, that’s not something you want to hide. After all, his view of you is all that matters.

“Three languages or not,” he says, “the smartest thing I ever did was getting on your nerves the night we met.”

Tucking into his shoulder, you press a quick but sweet kiss to his neck, wanting to thank him without making everyone at the table groan.

“And letting me play matchmaker,” Timo jokes, winking at you. “God knows he was helpless.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing that if he had never invited you back to the Rock after you pissed Nico off, you don’t think you’d have ever spoken to him. At the time, you were putting the ball in Nico’s court and waiting to see if he was gonna shoot. He looked like the type to want to make the first move.

You never thought he’d be a pouty, shy guy that needed meddling from his best friend. Otherwise you’d have asked him out the very first night he bought you a drink.

“Alright alright,” you interrupt, smiling gratefully at the boys. “That’s enough teasing. We all know we’re only as good as we are because we have Nico.”

The fearless leader, the man that stepped out on his own with just his name and his teenage friends, and made a family. A family that will always have each others back.

So when Claudia changes the subject, smiling at you as she asks “What’s your family like?” you already know your answer.

“Oh,” you glance at Nico, notice the way he’s biting at the inside of his cheek. He’s wanting to answer for you, wanting to field the topic but he has no idea what to say. He’s waiting for your lead. “This is my family,” you say, smiling shyly at Claudia. “Whatever I had before is nothing compared to my boys.”

Claudia looks taken aback, like she wasn’t expecting such a profound answer to the question. You wish you could tell her that it’s actually simple in your mind. This is your family, no question about it.

“Wow,” she murmurs, looking at you so fondly it makes your chest ache, the child in you selfishly wanting her to suddenly become your mother. To take away all the memories of the woman that raised you and replace them with ones of her, create a childhood in which your best friend was your family. “Smart, sweet, and beautiful. I see how you finally caught Nico.”

“Hey!” Nico whines, childishly.

“You were a bucking bronco, Neeky. We thought you’d always be.”

You laugh, leaning into him and pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. If you haven’t proved yourself to Rino yet, oh well. You don’t know what else could be better than knowing his son is safe, loved, and protected by a woman that would do absolutely anything for him.

~~~~

It wasn’t the creaking floor of the hallway that woke you up, nor was it the tiny mutters of “please, please, please” that snuck under the crack of the closed bedroom door.

It was the buzz of a text coming through, three quick blasts of back to back messages. Groggily, you slid your hand under the pillow and pull your phone out, turning it from Nico to keep from waking him.

Blinking against the light, you read the screen.

Holtzy 🐣

Are you awake?

Sorry if I woke you

Open the door?

Confused, it takes you a second to register the sounds of someone outside the door. Once you do though, you’re up, putting your phone back away and gently getting up from the bed.

Nico huffs in his sleep, digs his head further into his pillow. You tiptoe over to the door, cautiously twisting the handle and cracking it open.

Sure enough, Holtzy is quietly pacing in front of the doorway. He’s in his pajama pants and a grey shirt, hair frumpy and awkward on his head. At the sight of you he stops, shoulders dropping in relief.

“Are you ok?” You whisper, stepping into the hall and closing the door partially behind you.

Embarrassed, he stares down at his socks, toes tapping against the hardwood floors.

“Can I uh-can I sleep in here tonight?”

You know better than to ask. Sometimes Holtzy just has rough nights, he can’t sleep or he has dreams that give him anxiety. If there’s one thing you learned from the two months he lived down the hall from you and Nico, it’s better to just let him sort it out how he wants.

And if that entails him squishing in the bed with you and Nico, so be it.

“Yeah, of course.” You murmur, taking ahold of his bicep and squeezing reassuringly. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, eyes sleepy and sad. “Nico is sleeping so be quiet, ok?”

Knowing the drill he nods, and you turn to guide him back into the bedroom with you. Alex quietly closes the door behind him, the click only loud enough to make Nico shift on the mattress.

On light feet, you pad back to the king sized bed, lifting the blankets on your half and sliding in all the way to the middle. You had previously been tucked into Nico’s side right there, so to make room for the new addition you softly card your fingers through Nico’s hair.

He stirs, eyebrows pinching together in annoyance. “Nico baby, scoot over for me, yeah?”

He grumbles something you don’t understand, lips smacking as he rolls to his side and you hold the side of his face.

“Please baby, can you slide over a bit?”

Finally he moves, shuffling over onto his side of the bed and you go with him. Not that you had much of a choice when he locked his arm over your middle and took you with him.

Alex climbs into the bed, tucking into the pillow you had previously been sleeping on. You pull the blankets over him, settling back into Nico’s bicep. Your boyfriend grumbles something again, tucking his head into your neck and curling into your body.

You roll onto your side, let Nico fit himself to your back and wait a couple moments until his breath evens out again.

“Are you comfortable?” You whisper to Alex and he moves onto his side to face you.

“Yeah.” He tucks his hands under his cheek, eyes blinking sluggishly and you pull the covers up to his shoulder so he doesn’t get cold.

“Pull the blankets if you get chilled,” you say, pushing his tangled hair back as best as you can without yanking on a knot. “Nico’s like a furnace, he doesn’t need them.”

A tiny smile tugs at his lips. “I run warm too ya know?”

“I know,” you murmur, “but just in case you run cold tonight, ok?”

Alex nods, takes a deep breath and lets his eyes flutter shut as he exhales. “Thanks,” he mumbles lowly, like he’s already half asleep. “I don’t know how any of us lived without you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, his sweet words kicking it into overdrive. Smiling, you watch him for a moment to make sure he falls asleep and you can’t help but think of Nico’s mother.

How her and Rino ran Switzerland like a business, you don’t know. Because there’s no way you could look at any of the boys here, especially Alex and not love them like family.

Thank god Nico inherited some rare Hischier gene that gave him the big and sweet heart he has. He may not openly act like it, but you know he loves the boys like they’re his blood brothers.

Sleep muddled thoughts trail off and you can’t help but think of this same scenario in the future, when the boy crawling into bed with you two has Nico’s dark eyebrows and straight nose. Maybe it’s not a he but instead a she, and her eyes will sparkle like his and her lips will hold that petulant pout he has.

And they’ll tiptoe to your bed at night, wake you up with tiny fingers and teary cheeks as they whisper, careful to not wake Nico because he’s a grump. But when you let them under the covers they’ll wiggle their way over to him, snuggle into his broad chest and thick arms because he’s the safest place in the world for them to be.

As if being summoned by your thoughts, Nico stirs against your back, leaning in and planting a kiss against the side of your neck. You’re not expecting him to be awake so the movement startles you.

Even more so when he presses his mouth in close to your ear and clear as day asks, “He ok?”

You realize Nico hasn’t been sleeping, at least not since you moved him over in bed and he heard you tucking Alex in.

“Yeah,” you whisper, nudging him with your foot until he moves over enough for you to turn to face him.

His eyes are puffy and dark, framed by those permanent frown lines of his but he looks awake, alert. You trace your fingertips over his jaw, let his beard tickle the pads of them.

“He’s right ya know?” Nico murmurs, his gaze sweeping over your face fondly. “I don’t know how I lived without you.”

Shy and tired, your hand falls to the side of his neck, fingers loosely holding him. You blink slowly, feel your chest warm under the heat of his words.

“You’ll never have to again Schao,” you promise, closing your eyes to get away from the lovesick look in his eyes.

Nico doesn’t say anything, just leans in a presses a kiss to your forehead. You throw your leg over his thighs, curl into his chest and fall into dreams of him holding mini versions of you and him just like this.

~

You don’t remember Nico getting up. Usually you’re good at feeling him stir, forcing your eyes open when he unravels his arms from around you and gets up.

It’s not until his hefty weight is laying on top of you that you realize the body laying on his side of the bed, with their arm slung over your middle, is in fact not Nico.

“Baby,” he calls, voice barely a whisper. A grumbled noise of acknowledgment rumbles out of your lips, eyelashes fluttering as you try to fight against sleep.

Nico gently shushes you, soft and warm lips pressing to yours with a feather light touch. He smells like toothpaste and aftershave, the familiar scent making you blink your eyes open.

The sight makes you gasp.

He’s crowded over your body, feet hanging off the mattress and elbows bracketing your body. Damp hair is combed back, a single wet strand stuck to his forehead. But that’s not what’s got your attention, and neither are his beautiful brown eyes or dimpled cheeks.

He’s shaved.

The full and dark beard he’d been sporting since the hospital, thick hair beginning to trail down his neck messily but hotly, is all gone.

Well not entirely, but he trimmed most of it and shaved it down. All except the stupid strip of facial hair above his upper lip. That he’s left untouched.

“You shaved?” You croak out, cupping his face in your hands. His cheeks are smooth, soft and warm under your fingertips. Unintentionally, you pout.

“I trimmed,” he defends, shifting his weight into his left elbow and covering your hand with his now free one. “And cleaned up a bit.”

You’re probably being dramatic, but you’re tired and confused and completely caught off guard with his sudden grooming. So it’s really not your fault when water collects in your eyes, sniffling through a stuffy nose.

“Oh my god are you crying?”

“No!” You argue, outraged at the entirely true accusation and your shout has the body lying next to you stirring. Both you and Nico freeze, eyes shifting over to look at Holtzy. He’s asleep in his stomach, hands shoved under the pillow and cheek pressed into the bunched up fabric.

You’re even more caught off guard when a body on Nico’s side of them bed moves too. Bewildered, you look over to find Jack taking up the space that Nico previously occupied. He’s sprawled out on his back, hands clutching the blanket to his chin and mouth hanging open.

“If you wake them I’ll kill you,” Nico mutters, a playfulness in his whispered words. You let go of his face, knuckling at your sleepy eyes and moving to sit up.

Your boyfriend follows, gently slipping off the mattress so you can awkwardly slip out from under the covers and rise to your feet. Wobbling, you clutch the headboard with a wince when the whole bed shutters.

Alex simply snorts, digging his head further into the pillow, and then Nico is leaning over with outstretched arms. You cling to him, squeezing your eyes shut and curling yourself into a ball as he heaves you over Jack’s sleeping form.

“When did he get here?” You whisper after your toes are back on the ground, gesturing to Jack.

“After I got in the shower I guess.” Nico replies, keeping his words down too. “I thought you knew.”

Blinking a couple times, you shake your head and decide to just forget about it, though it is a little concerning that you didn’t hear him come in at all.

Nico ducks his head down, catching your lips in a short but sweet kiss. You cup his face again, a small noise of protest squeaking out of your throat when you’re reminded of the nice and clean beard he’s now sporting. And the stupid mustache that’s not entirely a mustache.

“M’trying to say good morning,” Nico mumbles against your lips, “don’t be a brat. It’ll grow back.”

You scoff, pulling back just enough to have his eyes fluttering open, eyebrows pinching in displeasure. Lips parting to argue, Nico cuts you off with a nip at your bottom lip.

“Now’s not the time for arguing baby,” he says sweetly, tilting his head towards bed. “Don’t wanna wake the kids do you?”

Something warm drips onto the top of your head, trickles down your spine and all the way to your toes. You melt, heart shuddering excitedly in your chest and you have to bite your tongue to keep from making whatever pathetic noise was bubbling happily in your throat.

The kids. Nico called the boys the kids. Kids as in his and yours. Not just yours anymore. That used to be his favorite tease, telling you that the younger boys were your kids whenever they decide to annoy him.

Now, suddenly they’re his too. You can’t even begin to explain how that feels to hear. All you can really come up with is right. It feels right for him to say that.

Oh god, you need to talk to Timo right now.

~~~~

Your knuckles rap against Timo’s door, more urgent and harsh than you meant and you wince when the hasty sounds of someone scrambling on the other side squeak out from under the crack of the door.

Timo barely has time to open the door before you’re pushing in, shoving him back by the chest. Glancing around the lower hallway for Nico, you close and lock the door when you’re certain he’s still outside getting more fire wood.

“Jesus warn a fella would ya?” Timo cries, rubbing at his shoulder as he plops down on the rolling desk chair.

“You would say the word fella.”

He tilts his head, unamused. “What do you want?”

Remembering why you’re here in the first place, you sit on the edge of his bed, folding your legs over each other. “Nico called the boys the kids.”

Timo laughs softly, resting his elbows on his knees and shrugging his hands out. “He does that all the time.”

“No like our kids.” You clarify, eyes widening as you emphasize Nico’s words. “Not my kids, he said it like they were ours.”

You expect Timo’s jaw to drop, his eyebrows to raise in shock, maybe even throw his head back with surprise. This is Nico, who has never in life let anyone get away with joking about the boys being his kids. He ignores Luke and Jack when they call him papa or dad, he calls you a single mom when the boys refer you to as mother figure. Sure it’s said in a joking matter, but Nico has never given the impression that he wants to be seen as a father figure right now.

Timo’s face scrunches into a wince, leaning back in his chair and you stare at him in confusion. “What just happened here? Why are you making that face?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, sighs. Struggling for something to say, he finally settles on “you didn’t see that coming?”

“This is Nico we’re talking about.”

“Yeah but it’s also you, and Nico wants to be a part of everything you’re a part of.”

Of course you knew that. You know he’d do anything, follow you anywhere to always be with you. Just like you would and have done for him. But this is different. Every conversation you’ve ever had about kids and a family with him was spoken about in the terms of the future. Not tomorrow or a week from now or even months. It was always years.

Nico bringing this up now is just….

You don’t even know. It’s not like a family with him isn’t something you want, but you definitely don’t want it right now. You want to be his fiancée first, live in a bubble of knowing he loves you enough to marry you. And you want to be his wife first too, see how the role fits and your relationship changes.

You have to learn how to be a good wife before you can even think of being a mother with him.

“He’s just-I mean he hasn’t even proposed yet and now he’s doing this? Is he like trying to see if I freak out or something?”

Ironically, now Timo’s jaw drops and he blinks at you like you’ve just uttered some unspoken or forbid secret. “He told you he’s gonna propose?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you examine his body langue. He doesn’t look surprised at all, not caught off guard by your words one bit.

“You knew!” You accuse.

Timo points a finger at you, exclaiming, “How do you even know?”

“Well he kind of already asked.”

“What? How? When?”

You shrug, trying to act casual and innocent. “After we had sex on the living room rug when you went to spend time with your mom.”

It’s comical the way his nose scrunches in disgust, eyebrows pinching together. It’s however, quickly wiped away with a look of utter disappointment.

“Oh god, he asked you during sex didn’t he?”

“After? Kinda?”

Timo shakes his head, squeezes his eyes shut like it actually pains him to hear that, like he physically can’t stand the idea of that being his proposal.

“I swear for being so smart he’s fucking stupid,” you try not to laugh even though it’s true. “I mean tell me he at least wasn’t still-ya know?” Timo makes a motion with his hands, thrusting them outwards.

You blink, confused and unamused by this turn in conversation. “I have no idea what that means.”

“Oh for fucks sake was he still inside you?”

Thinking back, you try to recall everything that happened that day but it was a rough one for you. Particularly the fighting with Nico and then the whole getting kidnapped thing and not having any memory for a bit there.

You can picture him clear as day though, laying next to you when he suggested marriage. No matter how many times Lena hits you in the head, you don’t think you’d ever forget that.

“No he wasn’t, he was just…holding me.” Your tone softens at the end, lips fighting to curl up and you grab the throw pillow from his bed, hugging it to your fluttering stomach.

Timo’s smile is sweet. “You two are disgusting.”

And that kills the mood. Frowning, you throw the pillow at him. “Come on, you’re supposed to be helping me with this!”

“I am!” He laughs, chucking the pillow back. You catch it easily, setting it in your lap and picking at the corners of it

“You’ve said nothing of note.”

“Ok, ok,” he relents, running a hand down his face as he thinks. “First of all, never say yes to a proposal if you or anyone in the room is naked.”

You roll your eyes, motioning for him to move on.

“Second, just give him a break ok? He’s-there’s a lot he’s trying to figure out right now.”

Bristling, you frown at him. “What does that mean?”

Timo groans, exasperated. “Look his-and don’t say I told you this-“ he waits for you to nod in agreement before continuing. “-his proposal to you kinda got hijacked and he might be freaking out trying to redo it.”

Redo it. Timo didn’t know about Nico asking you that day you were taken. Which means he knew of another plan Nico had, one that failed.

You think of how much Nico begged you that day when you were fighting, how even came off angry when asking you to just let things go for now. He didn’t want to fight with you, he didn’t want space from you.

And how upset, how unlike himself he was the day after. Where he’s usually strong headed and solid, he was stubborn and unyielding in a way that made you want to yank your hair out. He was freaking out and the only way Nico can show emotions he’s not used to having is by taking control.

He was going to propose, you realize, fingers finding the metal of your pendant, tracing over the metal of the ring. Nico must have one, an engagement one. One that he picked out and bought himself. Not the family heirloom ring, the one that he didn't care about because even without it he was going to marry you.

This whole trip was about him wanting to propose. It wasn’t a one off, heat of the moment thing when he asked you. He had been thinking about it, planning it, and most importantly trying to do it in a place that means so much to him.

How are you ever going to fix the mess that you know is spinning around in that pretty little head of his?

[eyesxxyou]

My Hero

☆🕷️。・hobie brown x blackcat!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.3k

synopsis. you and Hobie have long been playing the game of cat and spider. you chase, you fight, you fuck, you fight again, and you two love your games. until you find your life in danger because you stole something you shouldn't have

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🐾warning: p in v sex, unprotected sex don't do that children, a bit of sub!hobie, riding, reverse cowgirl, oral (m receiving) a bit of anal play not much though, hobie being kinda whiny and needy.

You always had a way of coming back into Hobie’s life when he needed you to the very least. Just when he was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t head over heels obsessed with the Black Cat as he thought he was, that he’d be able to look at you one day and not have the irresistible urge to kiss you and take you wherever the two of you might be, whether you be allies or enemies that day. He’d think that smile of yours, filled with chaos and mischief, framed in the silver fangs of your piercings, was just like any other, and that he didn’t have every inch of your body committed to memory.

Then you’d pop back up from wherever you spent your down time and bring back with you all the emotions he thought he had discarded in the rubbish bin down the street as well as your usual additional bullshit that he always played his own part in. That’s how you ended up in his very own bed, his real bed, the one he sleeps in every night, in just a thong and a baby tee that says 'I love (the love is a heart) to make men cry' as your hair now black as the night sky.

He never told you where he lived. No one would have assumed that the vigilante Spider-Man would live on a canal boat. But you were smart, crafty. If anyone were to figure it out, it would have been you.

Hobie was just swinging back on to his docked boat when he felt the familiar tingle of his spidey-senses going off. The prickling of his hair standing as his body moved by its own fruition. He leapt out of the way just before one of your knives could catch him. It came from overhead, the top of his boat where you perched yourself. The knife lodged itself in the wooden deck between his booted feet and he looked up at you.

There it was. All those feelings. They disgusted him but he loved you. He loved your slightly violent ways of showing love that never leave him wounded for long. Your usually pure white hair now raven black in wild curls, bad luck and even worse intentions radiating off of you. The smallest twinkle of fondness in your eyes as you look at him with that grin of yours.

“You always gotta try ‘n kill me every time we meet?” Hobie asks you at you drop down from your perch in front of him with the agility of a cat and snatch up your knife from his deck. You’re in regular clothes with a duffle bag tossed over your shoulder and cat-ish makeup on your pretty face. “I never try to kill you, hon. Just testing your reflexes.” You tucked your knife away, Your hand coming to rest on his chest affectionately. “Miss me, Bee?”

Always. “‘Aven’ crossed ma min’, luv.” He spoke gruffly. You looked up at him with knowing eyes. “I missed you too.” You got up on your toes, your hand coming to the nape of his neck to pull him close and kiss him, a friendly hello to make up from your aggressive one. Hobie kissed you back immediately, didn’t even have to think about it, how body did all the work for him. He knew he should be asking questions. How the fuck did you figure out where he lived for one. But oh— it’s like you knew that kissing him would make him nice, malleable, agreeable, and dumb. Hobie’s not dumb. He’d wise up quick so you had to beat him to the punch.

“I need your help, Hobes.” You murmured against his lips before he kissed you once again in sloppy play fighting with your tongues. “I’m in trouble.”

“When are you no’?” He left out in a slight breathless chuckle, finally pulling away. Wised up. “Wha’cha do?”

You nipped softly at your bottom lip, containing a slight smile. But if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of fear behind those eyes. “I stole something I shouldn’t have.”

“Those are the only thin’ worth stealin’.”

“Bad people are after me, Hobie, and I need a place to lay low for a little bit.” Your lips twitched a little. Yes, definitely fear. “I need help and I heard Spider-Man is in the business of helping people.” It was definitely a shot at your pride. You hated admitting you needed help, spent years drowning because you denied everyone's attempts to throw you a life raft. Hobie knew you’d rather stab yourself in the foot. And that meant this was serious.

"Come on, le's ge' inside."

And that's why you're here in his bed, because the fear of being suffocated in your sleep in your own home left you paranoid. Hobie settled down beside you in his narrow bed with his arm tossed behind his head, the action pulling his shirt up just enough to reveal his naval and that beautiful happy trail leading down his low-hanging sweatpants. "Wha'cha take?"

"Nosey much?" Yet, you cozied up right beside him in his rather cushy bed. You liked the way he smelled, like musk and sweat and the faint hint of faded body wash. Some days, depending on the activities, he smelt metallic, like blood, and you loved that even more. You love his sharp, stoic beauty. Loved his hair and the unmarked flesh of his neck that was usually either bruised or cut in some way. Sometimes done by your own hand.

Hobie's hand was on your thigh, the pads of his fingers messaging your flesh as he looked at your face, dimly lit by the waning moonlight reflecting off the broad ocean and glittering into your face. Your lips were wet, full, pouty. Your eyes sharp and piercing. He could see the pretty peaks of your nipples beneath your shirt. He wanted to run his thumb across them, call you his pretty girl. Mumble into your mouth incoherent words of ignorant admiration. "You came t'me, lovie. I feel I gotta righ' to know wha' kinda trouble you're in."

You two couldn't keep your grubby paws off of each other, always stealing touches, slight caresses like you two were fooling anyone. Every fluid movement between you two, always playing off each other's last, was done like something of a ritualistic dance. You take something from him, he takes it back, whether by hand or by web, you get up close and with both of your quick instincts you're fighting over the objects of your desire, seeing who's wit will prevail in the end. Your banter often followed the same routine.

"Well, I feel I have the right to reserve that info. Jus' do your job, pretty boy. Keep me safe so people don't come and ruin this pretty face you like so much." You pull him close and place a soft kiss on his slender cheek before dropping the matter all together. "But— I am very grateful for your kindness. My hero." You press your lips against the shell of his ear, peppering kisses against his skin.

You shuffled about in his bed, maneuvering between his legs with your hands against his sweatpants to pull them down. "I want to thank you."

Hobie let out a breathy chuckle as you worked to pull his cock out from his pants. "I don't need thanks, par' of ma job, but I won' refuse one." Not with lips like yours and a sharp tongue that could turn so, so soft when put to good use.

Your hands held his half-hard cock, twitching with the pumping blood that made him grow harder by the second, and you stroked him softly, gathering saliva to spit on his tip and spread down his length. Hobie shuttered under your touch, looking down at you through hooded lids as his tongue poked out to wet his lip then nip at it. "Go easy." He murmured, knowing he mercilessly beat his cock earlier to the thought of you, not knowing when he might see that pretty body of yours again.

You always start so slow, feigning a sort of innocence about the way you kiss his leaking tip and suckle on it as you look up at him through your long lashes. You'd keep going on like this forever if you had the choice but Hobie was impatient and restless. Grunting with pleasure and disapproval, he'd tuck his fingers in the curls of your hair and get a nice, firm grasp before pushing your head down further.

You'd relent, let your jaw slack so he could sink his cock further into your mouth, the sensitive tip of his dick dragging across the plain of your tongue. He'd let out something of a strangled, choking whimper before biting his lip. "Fuckin'-" He'd let out in a breathy moan as his head would fall back and he'd guide you head up and down the length of his cock.

It happened every time and this was no different other than the slight way from the waves rocking the boat. His fingers were in your hair, guiding your movements as his dick slid along your tongue against your throat. "Goo', kitty." He stroked your head and pulled your head away to stroke the tip of his cock against your saliva-coated lips.

You took him all the way to the hilt, let him settle down your throat before swallowing. It drove him crazy, made him shiver as he pressed your face to his pelvis and coaxed you to do it again. You swallowed and swallowed before pulling your head back and swirling your tongue against the head of his cock. You bobbed your head at a nice, steady pace, reveling in every hiss that escaped his dark, pretty lips.

He was losing himself to you, to that mouth, to that dark gaze of yours. Head like this made him fall in love. Made him completely mad for you. And oh, you were bad, so bad and he needed you. He needed to be inside you, needed you in top of him.

Hobie moaned softly. "Come'ere." He pulled you off his cock and pulled you up the length of his body.

You kissed him, hand stroking his length in gentle strokes while you sat on his thighs. His tongue found yours, your teeth nipped at his full lip. "You like to pretend you don't miss me but you gotta miss head like that."

"You have no idea, luv."

You climbed further on top of him, kneeling above him with your hands caressing the sides of his pretty face. "Just lay back and let me thank you, hmm? I'm not always so grateful." You pushed him back against his few pillows. Hobie lied with a hand behind his head, watching as you got up and turned around to give him a nice view of your ass from behind.

You pulled your thong to the side, that pretty pussy of yours on display for him, nice and wet. You reached back and took him into you hand to drag the thick of his cock between your pussy lips, stroking your aching clit with his tip. You got him nice and wet with the creamy juices of your cunt before lining him up against your wanting entrance.

He slid in so nicely, the tip stretched your nether lips apart. Your back arched subtly as you pushed your ass back more and let him sink deeper within you. Hobie pulled a single hand from behind his head and grabbed a handful of your ass to get a better view,

That pussy of yours could make a grown man weep. So wet, so tight, so mind-numbingly soft. You knew how to move your hips in just the right fashion to make him want to cum inside every single time. Just the sight of your lips hugging his cock was enough to make him crumble in ways no other could make him. He’s whimpered for you for fucks sake and one rested in his throat right at this very moment.

You sat in his lap with his member sitting snugly in you. You rocked your hips nice and slow, circling in a way that left you shuddering. Hobie squeezed your ass then smacked it with a sharp swing of his palm. “Don’ start teasin’ now, kitty. Show me.” He pressed his hand against your lower back just enough to get a nice view of his cock inside of you. His thumb rubbed circles against your asshole and earned him something of a whimper.

You placed your hands on his thighs as leverage and raised your hips, moaning at the feeling of his thick cock dragging against your sensitive walls. You went until only the tip remained before sitting back down and taking him in once more.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!" The last one was long and drawn out as you felt him nuzzle against your cervix and press against that soft place in your walls that made you grip his thighs tight and need him a little more.

Hobie cupped your ass with his hand, this thumb still tentatively rubbing circles against your tight rim of muscles as you took him over against and again. That pretty pussy of yours so idyllic it looked more like a fleshlight than anything. It gripped him like a vice, like a sin, oh you were such a sin and you felt so good.

"Shit, luv– fuck. Treatin' me good f'once aren'cha?"

You rose until your pussy let him go with a nice, wet pop and swiftly turned around to straddle him as you were before. "I can treat you so much better, Hobes." You reached back, let him take your cunt again and watched his face as his brows furrowed and his mouth fell open with the beginnings of a moan.

Your eyes rolled back as he entered you fully, lids fluttering. You stroked his head and rutted your hips against his own, your clit stroking against his pelvis. You moaned softly, looking down at his pretty face looking equally as fucked out.

Hobie's hands grappled at your hips, thighs, and ass, unsure of where he wanted his hands the most. "Keep fuckin' me like tha'." His hands finally settled on your waist, forced you up and down on his cock like his personal sextoy. His hands were under that little baby tee you were wearing, squeezing handfuls and fondling your breasts.

Hobie's head rolled back, his eyes fluttering shut with the pleasure of it all. With a pussy like this, if you asked him to give up being Spider-Man, he would. With a pussy like this, you could ask him anything and he'd agree with you. So nice and tight and wet. He could feel that slick of yours dribbling down his length, rolling in clear pearls over his balls.

You grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at you. "Keep those eyes on me, Bee. Pretty eyes like those, I wanna see'em." Those eyes that look at you in a hooded daze, not a thought in that brain of his just you, you, you. His hands stroked the sides of your body, cupped your tits, grappled at your hips, forced you to fuck him harder.

He reached between your legs and stroked your swollen clit with his digits. He needed you to cum for him, before him, you had conditioned him like Pavlov. He can't cum unless he knows you've cum first. He needs to see that expression of absolute euphoria across your face to finally know relief himself.

"Please cum f'me, luv. Please, please, I need i'. Y'know I do. Please." Hobie panted and begged. And oh the way your pussy squeezed him in segments, pulsing and quivering with the beginnings of an orgasm.

You squeezed his jaw harder, looked him in the eyes with your forehead pressed against his. The tips of your noses touches, the heat of your breath met the others and you felt the desperation in his breath.

He pinched and rolled your clit between his fingers, watched you lose your breath and ride a little harder. "Come on, luv. 'm good fo' i'. Jus' cum f'me." He kept murmuring, watching your expression, playing with the clit he knew from top to bottom. Your pussy was beginning to make a nice, creamy squelch around his cock, your cunt quivering with your climax.

Your hips bucked as you sat in his lap and pulsed around his cock. "Fuck, Hobes. Shit, oh my- fuckin' God." He stroked your clit through your orgasm, your rocking hips milking his dick, a womb begging for his load. You were left shuddering uncontrollably with eyes barely able to stay open. Oh you were high on it, dick like this doesn't come by often and you were intent on enjoying it as you always do.

You fucked him hard, left a creamy ring around the base of his cock, fucked him because you needed him to cum because that was the whole point of this. You liked the face he made when he came. The slight smile, a daze in his gaze, the complete loss of control of every extremity.

He submitted himself entirely to you, let you spit in his mouth, slap his cheek, do whatever you wanted to him because he can feel nothing but the way your pussy milks him for all he's worth.

"My hero," you cooed. Stroking his cock as he came in nice, thick ropes inside you. His large hands squeezed your ass, your thighs, your waist, grappled at you as the very breath got knocked out of him. His lips sought out yours as they always eventually do with a wanton moan. He kissed you like he was in love, all tongue and teeth, all consuming. A kiss that says 'don't leave just yet, let's just sit here'.

You know for certain that he's in love with you and you find it adorable. You could say you reciprocated it, could say you wanted a nice, quiet life with him. But you both knew you weren't built for that, not when your allyship was so unstable and one moment you could be working together for a greater cause and the next you have a knife to his throat and intend on taking a little more than just a little blood. It's never hard feelings, a girl's gotta do what she's gotta do to get ahead under the oppressive eye of fascist government.

Hobie half wondered if you were just here to get the drop on him, make him let his guard down to attack him. There could never be trust between the two of you, not complete trust anyway.

"You know we can't, Bee." You pulled away from him, pulled off of his softening cock and laid down beside him with your thong settling back into place. "As much as I'd love to, you know we're not compatible."

Hobie scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I beg to diffa. We're compatible, we're fuckin' soulmates. I jus' can' figure out if we're sworn to be lovers or enemies." You look up at him, at his distant eyes that don't look back at you but instead out of a narrow window at the silver sea.

"What do you think's gonna happen while I'm here?"

Hobie finally looked down at you, his lips slowly pulling into something of a lopsided smile. "We're gonna fuck a lo', eventually hate each otha a lil' more, still fuck while we hate each otha. You'll probably try t'kill me at some poin' 'n 'm okay wit' i'. But at the end o' the day, I ain' gotta Scooby Doo, mate."

You sit up, lean in, and kiss him. In another universe, you could love him without hindrance. You've tried to love different versions of him but none compare to your Hobie, not even the Prowler Hobie you stumbled upon and made yours for a little while.

No one could compare to your hero.

[medzgum]

flash me|kenma x reader x kuroo

a/n-rushed and not proofread

kenma and kuroo loved to troll they always got together and trolled online

they usually went on sites like omegle to troll of creeps leading kenma to be dressed as a girl and then trying to get freaky with him

the pair were dying from laughing from the previous person they were talking to almost causing them to skip you

they both fixed themselves to look presentable at the pretty girl on the screen

“yo show me ya boobs” kenma laughed at kuroo blurting those words out

you lifted up your shirt revealing a pink lace bra as you got closer to the camera squeezing your chest together showing off for them

getting back in frame your greeted back with the two men with jaws dropped they quickly turned to each other and smiled

“so what’s your names?” “im kuroo and this is kenma”pointing to his yellow haired friend “do you guys wanna play a game?” giggling as they both shouted yes

taking off your shirt unclasping your bra watching your breasts fall out “are you guys just gonna watch?” they both quickly stood up

they view of both their lower half with sweats on in the frame made you wish you took a screenshot

pulling down their sweats and boxers you were in awe with their sizes

kenma had to be at least 10 inches soft.

he was more length than girth

kuroo seemed to be around 8 inches soft but his girth was thick.

you positioned the camera a little lower revealing your lower part wearing nothing but lace stockings lifting your body up a little revealing the dildo you were sitting on rocking your hips slowly releasing soft moans

kenma and kuroo on the other side of the screen stroking themselves trying to keep quiet

standing up moaning as you hop off the dildo you faced your ass to the camera giving them a quick view as you slowly slid yourself down on your toy wrapping your arm on the back of the chair as you start bouncing hearing your whines

kuroo threw his head back eye close as he was biting down on the bottom of his shirt showing a little glimpse of his abs

gripping on the chair as you felt amazing pleasure you were thinking about taking them both on and how big they were causing yourself to get wetter and your pounding sloppier

feeling a knot in your stomach your whines grew louder as you thrusted harder to finally release

you could hear kenma trying to muffle his moans

kuroo wasn’t show letting you hear how loud he was

hearing their comments on how hot you were and how perfect your ass looked sent you over the edge

gripping the seat as you try to maintain your breathing

sliding off you put your boobs in frame playing with them as you tried to catch your breath

you grabbed something away from the camera and revealed another little toy although this one was much more thicker

you could tell they couldn’t contain themselves anymore as kenma let out whines covering his mouth as kuroo strokes got faster

the camera was set up to view your entire side they watched as you slid yourself into the one on the chair as you licked up and down on the thicker one looking up at the camera maki n eye contact through the screen

twirling your tongue around the tip as you slowly slid your mouth down slowly taking it all as you cried out how big it was continuing rocking your hips back and forth

bobbing your head up and down rocking your hips watching as they couldn’t contain themselves you knew they were close

hearing them mumble out curse words kuroo was the first to shoot ropes

kenma followed with his cock twitching as he came

the end of the convo was them asking for your socials to contact you again

[https-florals]

daydreamin' and i'm thinking of you - j.m.

summary: jj returns from a day of surfing and devotes his night to you and a lil bit of weed.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smoking weed, a lil suggestive, but mostly super fluffy and full of sweetness

author's note: back from the dead pookies!!! i just wanna say how incredibly grateful that none of yall have come for my wishy-washy ass! this year has been vcery hectic and rough, and i am so thankful y'all have let me be MIA. here's this little blurb smooch ily (i was too scared to flesh out the smut at the end IM SORRY ITS BEEN A WHILE)

JJ smells like a perfect, heady blend of sunscreen and salt when he and the boys get back from surfing. You’re waiting on the porch like a little 1950’s wife, and he runs up and hugs you as soon as he gets out of the Twinkie, acting like its been months since he’s seen you instead of a few hours.

“J!” You’re giggling as he swings you around, smacking loud kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Missed ya, pretty girl,” he murmurs into your neck.

John B slaps JJ’s back, surprising him so he lets go of you. “You literally just saw each other.” 

JJ’s jaw drops, hand over his heart like he’s been deeply wounded. “You’re just mad your woman isn’t out here to greet you,” he counters, squeezing your side and giving John B a sympathetic look.

“Wrong!’ Sarah says as she pushes open the screen door, giving her boyfriend an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. 

John B grins back at JJ, and follows Sarah back inside. 

“You still up for that boat date later?” you ask, fingers intertwining with his.

You swear his eyes sparkle. “Um, duh!” 

A few hours later, the sun is sinking into the horizon, sky turning the prettiest pink and orange. You are toting a basket full of picnic supplies: a tupperware full of elote salad, another with some grilled chicken, a speaker, and of course, a little cellophane baggie and some rolling papers. JJ’s job is to carry the fishing poles and bait (raw hot-dogs because why would he spend money on crickets when there’s hot dogs in the fridge?), and the six-pack of mini Dr. Peppers you’ll split (JJ will inevitably drink two of your three). 

“Where are you going?” You hear someone call from inside the house, but both of you act like you can’t hear it. 

HMS Pogue is sitting pretty at the end of the dock, and you practically skip onto it. The rev of the engine is like the call of an old friend, thrumming through you, bare feet on the deck.

You sit cross legged at the bow while JJ drives, your hair flowing behind you. The spray of freshwater is perfectly refreshing. 

It’s dusk when the boat reaches a little secluded spot on the marsh, and JJ announces it. “Gorgeous,” he says, the sky purple above him. “And no one around for miles.” He plops next to you, sticking his nose in your neck and sighing. You’re sitting pretty in a bikini top and jean shorts, and he plays with the tie at your back.

You laugh and push him off, getting up to get your basket of food. He helps you unload it, mouthing a silent yes as he pulls out the sodas. Then comes the tupperware, and he sticks two spoons into the corn. “Cheers.” He holds his out.

You tap your spoon against his, and gasp in fake shock when he knocks the food of it.

“Gotta be ready, babe,” he deadpans, snatching up your bite after he eats his. “Danger is waiting at every turn.”

You shake your head and laugh, scooting the tupperware closer to yourself. “You’re so weird.”

“You love it,” He grins, and you can’t argue with that. 

After you eat, JJ pulls out the package of hotdogs and starts to prep the rods.

“There’s no way you can catch fish with those,” you question, wrinkling your nose at them. You frown, turning on the puppy-dog eyes. “Do we have to fish? I wanna smoke.”

He copies your expression and sticks his bottom lip out. “Poor bunny,” he mocks, but shoves your fishing pole in your hand all the same. “Catch a fish, I’ll roll you a joint, ‘kay?”

You sigh. “ ‘Kay,” 

He grins and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You got it, babe.” He gives you a chunk of hotdog and you slip it onto the hook. JJ comes up behind you to guide your cast and you let him, his breath warm on the back of your neck. There’s the whir of the line, and the satisfying plop of the bobber in the water. 

“Now, we wait.” He takes the rod from you and drops it into the holder, and works on casting his own line. 

You’re bored before he even puts his down. “I have to catch a fish before we smoke?”

“Yeah, crybaby.” The two of you sit on the bow, feet dangling over the water. His ankle knocks against yours.

You let out another dramatic sigh, but you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “This is the worst part. I hate waiting.”

JJ laughs. “Yeah, honey. I am well aware.” He pokes your side, and you yelp dramatically. Reaching over you, he pulls the speaker out of your basket, and turns it on. You watch as he connects to it and goes through his spotify, thumb skimming over the screen as he looks through his playlists. JJ clicks on one of your collaborative playlists, titled “songs for slow dancing.”

He stands up, reaching out to pull you up as the hauntingly pretty piano intro for Aretha Franklin’s Daydreaming begins to play. “Wanna kill some time?”

You smile, and let him pull you into him. You think you could slow dance with him until you dropped dead, until you collapsed into each other and turned into intertwined fossils. Maybe that kind of thing is a little too poetic for the two of you, but you don’t really care. He starts to sing along, and you press your ear to his chest to hear his voice thrum through his chest.

daydreaming and i’m thinking of you, daydreaming and i’m thinking of you…

One of his hands splays on the small of your back, fingertips sneaked under the waist of your shorts, callused and all too soft. The other one is holding yours as you sway back and forth to the beat.He twirls you out fast, and back into his grip, your back to his chest as he squeezes you.

No one would ever know it, but JJ absolutely loves to dance. A little after you started dating, you dragged him to some swing dancing classes at the community center, and expected plenty of pushback, but you were met with absolutely none. The two of you fell in love stepping on each others toes and falling all over each other. It’s always a fun party trick to pull out at the fancier parties. He’s always wanting to dance with you, whether it’s learning how to shag in the living room late at night, or spinning you around on the boat.

He stops you mid-step, asking, “Can we try the dirty-dancing jump?”

The dirty-dancing jump has only been successfully executed by the two of you once. All other times have ended in someone being injured (usually JJ). Your jaw drops open, and you lightly shove him. “Absolutely not! You wanna fall off the boat?”

He gives you the biggest eyeroll, but immediately switches to puppy dog eyes when you cross your arms. “Just like, a lift? Pleaseeeee,” he drags out, taking your hands and acting like he’s going limp. 

“Fine! But if you drop me in this water, I’m actually going to have serious beef with you, Maybank.”

He laughs, maybe an itty-bit manaically, and grabs your waist. “Okay, I’m gonna count you off, and you’ll jump, ‘kay? So, one, two, three-”

You hear your fishing rod rattle in its holder and jump away from him. “My line!” Scrambling after it, you grab the pole right as it looks like it’s going to leap out of its holster.

“Get it babe!” JJ practically shouts, darting behind you and placing his arms around yours to give you a little support. 

The whir of the line rushing out makes you jump, and you hurry to start reeling it back in, furiously turning the handle. JJ’s mouth is by your ear as you lean into him and he talks you up as you fight the fish. “Come on, baby, you got it. Keep going, keep going, you almost got it!”

He’s pulling half the weight, you know that, but you don’t mind the help when you can watch the cords in his forearms tense and pull.

Finally, the line leaps out of the water, and soon a big scaly body is flopping on the deck of the boat. “Atta girl!” JJ shouts as you snatch it up by the lure, holding it up proudly. It’s pretty heavy, probably a little over 14 pounds. 

“Look at that, baby! Got yourself a bluefish.” JJ is smiling so proudly as he fishes out his phone, and makes you pose for a picture like one of those Tinder frat guys. The flash is harsh and you know you look crazy, but he grins at the picture all the same.

“Can you throw him back in? He’s too pretty to eat,” you ask as he messes with something on his phone. You’re still holding the fish as you try to lean over and see what he’s doing.

“Here, yeah.” He drops his phone on the boat deck and takes the fish from you to fling back in. When you look at his phone, you see your face staring back up at you from his lockscreen. It was some picture of the two of you from a party, but now it’s you and your fish. He immediately changed his wallpaper after he took the picture. In your opinion, it’s definitely not a knockout photo, but you almost tear up at the sweetness of it.  

“You looked cute,” JJ shrugs, seeing you looking at it. 

You just smile, shaking your head, and lean against him. “Can we get high now?”

“Damn, you waste no time, huh?”

Soon, your fishing rods forgotten, you’re watching JJ roll you a joint to share. His fingers dance along the rolling paper, tucking and smoothing all gentle. He’s mesmerizing. When his tongue darts out to wet the paper, you swear you start salivating.

He catches you staring, hitting you with that heartbreaker grin again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Shut up and light up,” you sigh, reaching for the blunt in his hands. 

“Can’t light up if you don’t hand me my lighter,” JJ frowns, expression sarcastic. He puts his hand out, waiting.

You reach into your basket and pull it out, smiling when you see it. A few months ago, you had decided to buy JJ a custom lighter. You got him one off Etsy, a cheap Bic lighter with your face printed on the plastic. Of course, the image didn’t translate correctly, so the picture is heavily distorted, your smile big and wide and eyes even bigger. 

It’s probably his favorite possession. 

He lights the joint, letting it smoke for a second before raising it to his lips.

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

“So needy,” he chides, taking a hit, gripping you by your neck, and blowing the smoke into your open mouth. Your breath hitches as you try your best to inhale, try to not think about his lips just ghosting over yours, his calloused fingers hard on the sides of your neck.

“Good girl,” he exhales as you successfully breathe in without hacking up your lungs.

The frogs are peeping and the wind is slow and soft, pushing the smoke around the two of you and enveloping you in it. You’re talking mindlessly as the joint passes between you, staring at the way moonlight shines through JJ’s hair, turning it platinum. His irises catch the light just right- bright, icy blue. 

You’re sitting cross-legged, knees knocking with his. All you can think about his how much you love your boyfriend, even with the edges of your mind soft and your senses fuzzy. JJ takes your hand, pressing the pads of your fingertips against his. 

“It’s like I can feel your fingerprints,” he comments, fingertips lightly rubbing yours. He pulls your hand as he leans back, so you’re both on your back, looking at the stars.

“It’s so pretty,” you whisper in awe. With absolutely zero light pollution, the sky is a myriad of deep black and blue hues and so, so many stars. You’d decompose while trying to count them all. You snuggle up against J as he takes a final hit. From your perspective, the rising smoke almost looks like it’s weaving through the stars, netting around them and sparkling right above your head. JJ tosses the remnant of the joint into your grocery bag of trash. 

“C’mere,” he sighs, propping himself up and running a hand down your torso. When he kisses you, he tastes like smoke and sweat, and a wave of heat rushes through you just from the taste. You’re pulling him on top of you by the loops of his cargo shorts, pressing yourself against the firm plane of his abdomen.

“God, you’re needy,” he laughs, pinning your hips down with a heavy hand. 

“You made me this way,” you squirm, and it’s true. He’s too generous with his touches and too sugary with his words, and you chase him like he’s a hit of the purest cocaine. 

He shifts on top of you, a knee between your thighs just like you like it. He presses his knee up just to see you gasp and grind down on him. JJ’s laugh is a little mean as snaps the waistband of your shorts. “Okay, honey, what do you want?”

There’s no shame in your voice as you blurt out, “Fuck me.” You’re whining out a plea before he can even answer, with no care that you’re out in the open… no care that the cops patrol at night.

JJ fakes shock, but the hardness of him against you gives him away. “You wanna get fucked, huh. Out in the open?”

“Don’t act like this wasn’t your whole plan, smartass,” you counter as he pins your hands down right above your head. 

He just laughs in response. “Dirty, dirty, dirty,” he tuts rebukingly, but he’s pulling apart the tie of your swimsuit top all the same.

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

[anchoeritic]

「 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞. 」

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jake sully x fem!human

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nsfw(18+), minors dni. clit play, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (sweetheart, baby, etc.), fingering, squirting, use of “girl”, size kink/difference.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: “i'll touch you as you wish, but only if you can stay quiet for me.”

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: two jake fics in a day? i might as well make my comeback now. reblogs and feedback are appreciated but never pressured! feel free to send in requests while you’re at it.

“you’re so pretty, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he would whisper against your lips, hoping to hear the smallest whimper from you.

his hands were always quick enough to make you answer; caressing your breasts through the thin fabric.

his hands could cover your entire body: him compared to you was the biggest difference and he loved that about you.

he knew he would always tower over you and make you say yes. you were his prey.

nipples erected and clearly toyed with, he licks his lips, observing the way your eyes would roll back for him. “jake,” a whine came out from you, earning a devilish smile from him.

“hm, talk to me,” he would reply, starting to trail kisses along your jaw, “tell me what you feel, baby.”

he knew what he was doing when he teased you. he always made you say what you wanted, felt, before he continued to pleasure you. he was a man of control, he needed those sweet words to come out from your mouth before he could devour you.

you bucked your hips on his lap, biting onto your lip softly. “i need you.” toying around with your nipple, he pinched it gently.

“you sure you can take it?” he teased you, brushing away a fallen strand behind your ear to see your eyes clearer.

his tongue traced circles into your cheek, the slight coldness of his teeth pinching your flesh.

you agreed obediently, nodding your head.

he could only reply with a laugh, caressing your jaw softly. "so needy to be touched," he started. "can i make a deal with ya?"

humming, you laid your head against his chest still rocking yourself softly against his thighs.

“i'll touch you as you wish,” his hand slides up from your breasts, wrapping around your neck tightly before you could react. his breaths grew heavy against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

there had to be a catch to it. he'd never give in to you so easily, right?

“but only if you can stay quiet for me.”

there it was.

“you want me to stay quiet?” you whispered.

“that includes no talking, sweetheart,” he smirked, slipping a finger between your wet folds. he watched as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, nearly drawing blood.

struggling to stay silent with one finger inside you, he slipped a second one, pumping them into you with no mercy.

caught by surprise, your immediate reaction was to close your legs, but jake thought otherwise.

with his strength, he used his arm to pull your leg up, holding it up against your chest as his other was playing with you.

struggling to stay quiet, you bit onto your own leg, burying your face against it.

“still wanna be mean, sweetheart? guess who gets to tell you when to cum.” he pinched the inside of your thigh.

“such a needy, needy girl. i wonder what'll happen if i end up making you squirt.”

a third digit is added, stretching you out beyond what you can take, but could never compare to jake.

you shake your head attempting to push his hand away, only to be met with a hiss from him and a quickening in pace.

“i feel you getting tighter,” he added as you clenched around his fingers. "c'mon, make me happy, baby."

shuttering, you spread your legs wider, trembling when you felt the cold air hit in all different places.

“i know you want to cum,” he mumbled into your hair.

your hips could no longer control themselves, trying to ride for the high. your arousal was already dripping down from between your thighs, drenching jake's lap.

“cum for me.”

his words sent you over the edge, body shaking into an orgasm.

a low groan was heard by jake as you brushed against his bulge, turns out you weren’t the one that had to be quiet.

you threw your head back onto his shoulder, breathing heavily. that had been one of the best of your life and you were silent.

bite marks were scattered around your knee: all made by you attempting to keep yourself quiet.

smiling down at you, he placed gentle kisses on the crown of your head.

“so good for me.” he praised.

“sìltsan 'eve.”

[sundew199]

Doll Face

tags: Shanks x f!reader, cum play, oral m!recieving, facials, throat fucking

Kinktober day 10: cum play for @alt-er-love-requiem

!!minors dni!!

The floorboards creaked with your weight shifting side to side, hands behind your back with the sun from the porthole searing into your skin. He asked you to wait for him, needing to wrap up one last thing before joining you in his cabin.

You'd teased him earlier about looking stressed, in need of relief and well, Shanks took that seriously. Leaning over just enough to whisper in your ear all the naughty ideas he had running through his mind. Always the one to please, you nodded back to him, walking off with a purposeful sway in your hips just to sell the thoughts in his own mind.

Now, your stomach twisted and turned at the ideas he spoke to you, how he wanted to use you, play with you, see your pretty face when he's finally done having his fun. Shanks had women enamored with him and you were no exception, sex literally oozed off of him, like it commanded the room wherever he went. Men feared and boasted about the emperor, how his aura literally brought men to their knees. Women did the same, but not for the same reasons men talked about.

"You waited."

Looking up from staring off into space with the sound of his chipper voice, the broad smile wrinkling the ends of his scar and how oddly joyful he looked rather than aroused.

"Why wouldn't I?" Humming back with seduction, craning your neck out with each step he took closer to you, his shoes scraping the old wood boards.

"Thank you doll." Returning the same smile, voice warm and inviting like he was trying to throw you off for some reason. His only hand came out to stroke across your cheek, use his thumb to trace your bottom lip, examining you. "On your knees."

The command violently tugged at the knot in your stomach, forcing your eyes open and still being met with the sweetness in his face, conflicting with the implication of his words.

Doing as told, getting down on your knees in front of him, Shanks stepped forward, bringing you face to face with his crotch. There was a slight tent in the material and if you didn't already know how big he was then you would've assumed he was already fully hard. His hand came down to cradle the back of your head, admiring you from above and how compliant you were for him.

"Now if it's too much, you can always tell me to stop."

"I know."

"Good girl. Care to do the honors?" Letting his voice turn airy and light, close to whispering as he waited with anticipation for your deft hands to undo the barrier that were his trousers.

Trying not to show him how much those two certain words affected you and sent shivers down your spine, you scooted forward with both hands in front of you to snap the single button open, sighing with a moan as his cock sprung out. You were right in the assumption that he was only half hard, needing your fine skill to bring him all the way.

Pressing the tip to your lips, letting the small bead of pre-cum roll down from your bottom lip to your chin, you shot your eyes up slowly, eager to catch the reaction of the man. Shanks merely smiled coyly, moving the hand from the back of your head to hold one side of your jaw, sneaking his thumb to your lips to thumb your bottom one down.

"Wanna paint your pretty face doll." Moving his thumb away to let you do as you pleased, comfortable enough with letting you guide your own actions.

Taking in a sharp inhale, parting your lips to suction them around the very end of his cock, your tongue snuck forth to gather the continuously leaking pre. He groaned quietly at that, chest heaving deeply with intent to compose himself. You smiled the best you could back at him, moaning intentionally while also sneaking your hands down to cup and cradle your tits. Shanks saw and clenched his jaw, always having a thing for your perfect tits, liked watching them bounce as you rode him or when they'd jostle from taking his cock deep in your throat.

"Let me see them, sweetheart."

Another command that had you pressing your thighs closer together, wondering how the low deep voice could sway your actions so easily, make you comply like some animal listening to its handler. You liked it, there was so question about it that being ordered around by infamous man had you bending and begging. Shanks was aware of it, used it to his advantage when he wanted but never to the point of overuse.

Slipping your fingers underneath the thin strap of your tank top, you pushed the tight hugging fabric all the way down until it rested at your waist, tits free for his admiration. He sighed with a half smile, pushing his hips forward until more of his cock was disappearing into your mouth. It didn't give you enough time to fully relax your throat but a part of you liked the smidge of roughness that came with his impatience.

Humming delightfully around the shaft, taking him down a little past half way and coming off to suck around the head, repeating the motions enough until you were ready to take him down all the way. There wasn't much coming from his end, just heavy breaths and quiet groans, completely enraptured by the sight of you sucking his cock like it were a skill to be honed.

If he weren't so big and wide you may have been able to do more from the get go, but it took patience before you could press your nose all the way to his groin and let him rest his cock there for as long as he wanted. Knowing that's what he probably wanted, you worked one of your hands around the base, matching the speed of your mouth and dragging the saliva down all the way. His hips then twitched forward, shoving himself down a bit deeper than intended but nothing in you minded.

"Eager today huh?" Laughing a bit and swiping some of the saliva pooling down your chin away, swiping it over your painfully hard nipple, making you moan. Shanks purred at your reaction, deciding he wanted to be greedy now and take you for all you're worth.

Grasping the back of your head with a familiar tenderness, he held you still to switch the rolls, fucking down your throat. It was fast and rough, abusing the warmth and tightness that could compare to your pussy, using you like he always did and how you always wanted him too.

The noises increased in volume with each thrust, the deep breathing along with the grunts and groans were going straight to your cunt, squeezing your thighs together impossibly tight. Fuck it was so good, so messy and uncoordinated, how you preferred it sometimes over soft and sweet. Shanks tended to be selfish when it came to you, in more ways than one and thank god he wasn't shy to do so.

"Missed you doll, missed this." Abruptly confessing which wasn't unusual for him when he was like this, allowing a bit of his truer feelings to come forth.

You blinked the tears out of your eyes to look at him, seeing how the little droplets rolling down your cheeks spurred him on, holding the back of your head tighter and slamming his dick harsher down your throat. You moaned and whined around the flesh bruising your throat, finding the best way to convey how much you enjoyed being used for his pleasure. It was working to your advantage, noticing the pinched brows and parted lips releasing continuously trembling breaths from his lungs. For a moment, you swore he was going to cum down your throat, until his hand fell from your head and his cock left your mouth, his fist giving himself the last few pumps he needed before warm ropes of cum were landing on your face.

By habit, your mouth fell open and your tongue rolled out, catching some of the tangy release but leaving it be until he was finished. Luckily Shanks had enough decorum to avoid your eyes, aiming for his favorite spots, cheeks, mouth and chin. He laughed on a breath, lazily pumping just the head of his cock as the last of his cum squeezed out. Carefully, he took what was on his hands, leaning over to smear it on your nipples, pulling a surprised squeak out of you.

"So pretty doll face." Smugly declaring as he gathered whatever didn't land on your tongue on his fingers, proceeding to press against your tongue. "Swallow for me."

And you did, happily doing as you were told and going the extra mile to suck and clean his cum stained hands, keeping your eyes on his and watching how quickly his composure began to slip all over again. You were an easy weakness, and how could you not be with how complaint you were for one of the four emperors. Shanks smiled, taking his fingers back and walking past you to sit lay on the bed.

"I'll let you have a turn, if you want." Implying just what you were expecting, smiling like an idiot and coming off on the floor, stripping on your way there. As greedy as he could be, Shanks had no issue of letting you be as greedy as well, a metal agreement that benefit the both of you.

"Might be here a while." Standing off to the side of the bed, arrogant smile creasing your features.

"I've got all day sweetheart."

[hederasgarden]

Behind Closed Doors

Summary: Sometime during the last few months things shifted between you and Scott, and your mutual dislike turned into an entirely different beast. Pairing: Scott Miller (Twisters) x F!Reader Word Count: 2.3 K  Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Grad school AU. Unprotected PIV, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, and a little bit of mean/dominant Scott.  A/N: Thank you to @ryebecca @a-reader-and-a-writer and @seeyalaterinnovator for looking this over. 

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

“Keep this up and that internship is yours,” Dr. Harding promises, flashing you an encouraging smile while she packs up her satchel. 

You can hardly contain your grin, biting your bottom lip to keep it from breaking into a full-blown smile. With only one internship spos available, every graduate student worth their salt was vying for the position, Scott included. You glance over your shoulder and, as expected, catch him scowling at you from across the lecture hall. 

Dr. Harding follows your gaze. “You’ll encounter plenty of Scotts in your career, but none of them will be half as good as you,” she assures you. “Just keep your head down and focus on doing great work.”

Scott lingers by the door as students file past him, and it’s only after the room empties that he finally slips out into the hallway. You know he’ll be waiting for you. A rush of anticipation makes your hands tremble, and you clasp them tightly to steady yourself.

���Don’t pay any attention to him,” she encourages. 

You shift back on your heels and nod, feeling her supportive pat on your arm. 

“I won’t,” you lie.

The reality is that you paid entirely too much attention to Scott throughout the last two years of grad school and lately, he’s returned that attention tenfold.

At first, you kept an eye on him out of self-preservation after he snatched your chosen thesis project right from under you during your first year of grad school. You were too trusting then, swayed by his handsome face and charm. After that, you were determined to ignore him, but he dogged your every step, stealing your reserved time in the open labs and seizing every chance to undermine you in class.

By your second year, you got smarter, letting him believe he had the upper hand while you worked quietly behind the scenes. For every biting remark Scott directed your way, you responded with a falsely sweet smile. The first victory was securing the TA position with Dr. Davis — an opportunity Scott had boasted was his for the taking. Next, you managed to snap up all three professors Scott wanted for his thesis committee. That win felt especially satisfying, watching that deep flush crawl up his neck as he tried to rein in his temper. 

This dance was thrilling in a way you hadn’t expected. You never considered yourself competitive, but you were starting to realize you just hadn’t encountered anyone who could truly challenge you before. Now, competing for the highest grade in the classes you shared has become second nature, and stealing each other’s open lab time is a regular occurrence. But, sometime during the last few months things shifted, and your mutual dislike turned into an entirely different beast.  

The first time a fight with Scott ended with his mouth on yours, you froze – wide-eyed and too stunned to respond. He held your gaze easily, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. Scott was entirely confident until the silence stretched on, and you saw a flicker of uncertainty in his bright blue eyes. Even though it wasn’t your nature, you let him linger in those feelings, savoring the sight of him looking unsettled. It only lasted a moment and since then, you’d never seen anything but his usual cocky self-assuredness each time you ended up underneath him.

Unsurprisingly, you find Scott waiting for you in the hall. He’s wearing one of your favorite outfits, a white button-down shirt underneath a blue sweater that’s rolled up to his elbows. With one foot crossed over the other and his arms folded across his chest, he looks completely unbothered leaning against the wall. You ignore him and keep walking, fully aware of how much it irritates him when you deny him attention. Scott’s loafers squeak against the floor as he pushes off the wall to follow you. With his long legs, he quickly catches up, walking close enough that his shoulder brushes yours. The heady scent of his cologne tickles your nose and you inhale quietly. 

“You done playing kiss ass?” he asks.

“It’s called being a nice person,” you reply. “And, besides, we were just talking.”

He scoffs and moves in front of you, blocking you from continuing. He’s clearly still pissed that you outshone him in class earlier. You honestly didn’t mean to this time — it was just your eagerness to snag the coveted intern spot. But when you saw the intense, angry look in his eyes, you couldn’t help but keep going. Watching his jaw tighten and his pouty pink lips flatten into a firm line was fast becoming your favorite sight. 

“Not everyone wants to hear you talk," Scott growls. “You’ve been running that smart mouth all day, acting like you’re the star student.”

There’s something about how he talks to you, with that edge of annoyance and jealousy that makes your whole body tingle. 

“I was just answering the questions,” you say, equal parts thrilled and terrified when his expression darkens. 

“Shut up,” he hisses, grabbing your arm and yanking you into an abandoned office. 

The soft click of the door plunges the room into semi-darkness. The only light comes from the afternoon sun filtering through the shuttered blinds. It smells dusty and stale, but you don’t have time to dwell on that as Scott pushes you forward. Your knees collide with a wooden desk, and your hands shoot out to brace yourself against it. Scott rips your backpack from your shoulders.

“Scott, what —”

“I don’t want to hear you talk,” he growls.

He grabs the back of your neck and forces your cheek against the cool wood while his other hand caresses the swell of your ass over your dress. Nervous energy skitters down your spine when both hands disappear a second later, your mind working overtime to anticipate his next move. 

“Spread your legs,” he commands.

He hardly gives you enough time to comply before he's impatiently kicking them apart. The tickle of his fingers dragging up your inner thigh has your skin tingling in anticipation. He rubs you through your underwear, two fingers circling your clit until you grow damp enough for him to feel through the cloth. You circle your hips, eyes closing as you surrender to sensation only for them to fly open a moment later when he strikes your ass hard enough to jolt the desk. 

You tense and he chuckles, fingers continuing to tease you without providing any relief. Every time you start to relax he delivers another smack and soon enough you’re moaning, desperate little pleas falling from your lips. You want him to really touch you and sink those thick fingers inside like he’s done before but maddeningly, he doesn’t. Every part of you is warm and trembling. 

“Scott,” you exhale, pushing up on your forearms. 

You’re shocked that he lets you stand, but that melts away when he spins you to face him. His lips claim yours hungrily, his tongue nearly choking the breath from you. When he rips his mouth from yours you’re panting and he’s flushed. 

“Get on the desk,” he demands.

You scramble back, but he’s quick to step between your legs and grab the back of your thighs to help you up. He has your underwear off in a blink and sinks to his knees.  When his hot breath falls against the most intimate part of you, a surprised squeak escapes, melting into a low moan when Scott runs his tongue through your folds, lapping greedily at the taste of you.

It’s noisy the way he eats you out and you’re mortified by how wet it all sounds. You squeeze your eyes closed, threading your fingers through his hair as he continues to devour you. It feels undeniably good, better than anything a man has done to you before. Not that you had much to compare it to; you were too busy chasing your parents' expectations and trying to prove your own worth. 

“Please, oh please,” you whimper, your voice fizzling out when his tongue pushes inside your warmth. 

The hand around your hip slides down and Scott’s mouth leaves your cunt. You’re about to beg him to continue when his thumb and forefinger roll your clit, creating a deliciously painful pleasure that makes your body quake. Then his mouth is back on you, his thick tongue working together with his fingers. The coil in your belly is pulled taut and your skin tingles. You’re close and he seems to realize it, rubbing your bundle of nerves in an unrelenting, circular motion. It’s overwhelming and you don’t even realize that broken, needy sound is coming from you. If you were in your right mind you’d be an anxious mess about the idea of someone hearing the two of you but Scott has you all twisted up.

Part of you expects him to pull back and make you beg to come, but to your relief, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he seems to redouble his efforts and you peak with his name on your lips, almost missing his low groan. The muscles of your thigh tremble, your body overwrought but he works you through it all. When he finally pulls away you’re breathless and sated. You lay there, panting and overworked. For a moment you forget he’s even there, but then you hear his belt clink. You try to sit up but he’s quicker, shoving you back down.

“Think we were done already?” He asks. God, you certainly hoped not. “What?” He questions, “No smart remarks now?”

Before you can gather your wits he’s laying his body over yours and pushing inside. You gasp for breath when he lays his full weight on you, pressing you into the desk. There’s nothing for you to do but lay here and let him fuck you.

“Thought about this during class,” he grits out. “What do you think everyone would say if they saw you now? We both know you're not the good girl you pretend to be.”

“I am good,” you argue.

“I’m gonna make you be good,” he replies. His breath fans over the side of your face as he leans in close, his tone smug when he speaks again. “You like it when I talk to you like that?” 

Your lips part but the only sound that comes out is a long, low moan as he slows his pace to deepen his thrusts. He gropes your chest and hooks his fingers into the neckline of your dress to pull the fabric low enough to expose your lacy bra. 

“Did you wear this for me?” Scott asks, rolling his hips forward. You grasp his wrist and grunt, thighs tensing around his hips. “I’m keeping the underwear,” he pants. 

Even if you wanted to respond to him you can’t because his mouth is on yours the second he stops speaking. He feels indescribably good inside you and the delicious pressure he's building in your cunt makes you feel dizzy. You’d do anything he asked just to come and Scott seems to know it. He leans back and his pace slows until he’s completely still, his hips flush with yours. 

A needy whine rises in your throat at the sudden shift in pace. You need him to move and you lift your hips but Scott pins you to the desk easily. He tilts his head and stares at you, amused.

“You gonna let me come inside you this time?”

You shake your head, the no on your lips dying when Scott’s thumb strums your clit. Even during your first time together, he seemed to know how to play your body and today is no different. 

“No?” he questions. “See I think that you will, good girl.” That phrase — one you both love and loathe — has you clenching around him and Scott chuckles, sounding breathless. “Yeah, I got your number. Knew it from day fucking one.”

You keen and reach back to grasp the edge of the desk. When he starts fucking you in earnest you wrap your legs around Scott’s waist.

“Tell me, good girl. Tell me I can come inside you."

“Scott, please.”

“Please what?” he asks. His hair falls over his forehead as he leans down on his elbows and his mouth hovers inches from yours  “I know you wanna be my good girl.”

“I do,” you gasp.

“Then say it,” he demands. “Beg me.”

“Please, Scott. I want…” your voice trails off, mind working overtime to string words together. “I want you to come inside me.” The words come out in a rush, your face warm with humiliation.

Scott responds by curling his body over yours, driving into you hard enough to have the desk groaning. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and bury your face in the side of his neck. Praise spills from his lips, about how good you are for him and how you feel, tight and hot around him.

You peak just as he does, wave after wave of pleasure washing over your body. A low, almost pained sound escapes his clenched lips as he spills inside you. He gives a few more abortive, shallow thrusts and you clench hard around him, your moan mingling with his. You stay tangled together as you both find your breath again. Scott surprises you by brushing his lips over yours almost sweetly, his hand cradling the side of your face. 

“I’m going to think about this later,” he whispers. “Knowing I’ll be dripping out of you while you sit in our next lecture.”

His words have their desired effect and you look away, embarrassed and turned on again. You feel his fingertips trace your bottom lip. “Maybe next time I’ll come here. Hmmm.”

Your whole body warms, your chest brushing against his as you draw a breath. His clever words always leave you feeling this way, and for a moment, you wish he would be struck dumb. Clearing your throat, you lift your lashes to meet his gaze, a sweet smile curving the corner of your lips as an idea takes shape.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want,” you tell him, watching his blue eyes darken with lust and anticipation. “It can be your consolation prize after I’ve won the internship.”

[mcflymemes]

ANYONE BUT YOU (2023) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

you still live at 28 fuckboy lane?

there's a reason why you're alone. no one can trust you.

i still think about the night we spent together.

these last few days really made me realize how much i miss you.

that night at your place, no matter how it ended, it was still pretty amazing.

so... you gonna kiss me now?

you'll always be my rock bottom.

okay, nuzzle my neck. get in there.

we are not together. we were faking it the whole time.

we have to kick it up a notch. make it feel like we're in the ga-ga stage.

you know, i feel really bad about that.

did you catch him measuring his dick with a ruler app?

you scared the shit out of me.

we're getting pretty good at faking it.

it doesn't matter how we found out.

permission to put my left hand on your right buttock?

okay, not in circles. it's not a magic lamp.

are you not wearing underwear?

we do not inherit the earth. we just borrow it from our creatures.

i have a better idea. you just let me do everything.

thanks for being so cool about all of this.

you want a coffee? it's the best n the world.

there's only one bed, but we hung a shower curtain in the middle.

hi. where's your bathroom?

i could have done it myself, but whatever. thanks.

thanks for not stealing my coat.

is that really a two person job?

you would let me die?

they think i'm throwing my life away.

no, that was rude. i apologize to anyone that was listening.

i don't know. i'm not good at this, sorry.

i'm from a different generation.

i'm not talking about love. i'm talking about dick.

all that matters is that we're together.

that's not me anymore. i'm free now. i'm deprogrammed.

no way, that man does not have a heart.

well, that didn't take long.

if i never ask you for anything ever again, can you please just lay off of me this weekend?

let's just have a moment to calm ourselves.

no one cares. no one can see us.

we were on a break, asshole.

either way, someone's lying to someone.

i must have really gotten under your skin.

you used none of those terms properly.

i cannot believe i just said that out loud.

i'm sorry. my life is a disaster right now.

look at this place. it looks like every serial killer reenactment documentary.

no matter how broken something is, there's always a way to fix it.

this whole thing is so new to me.

i don't really like labels, but i like you a whole bunch.

so are you going to ask me out now?

so if we were getting attacked by giant spiders, you would not be able to protect us?

you two know each other?

i'm going to go grab a drink. door's that way if you're looking to sneak out. i know that's your thing.

i'm going to get a drink and toast to never seeing you again.

how crazy is it that we're on the same plane?

why do so many of us feel stuck?

you don't even play tennis.

we're fine if he just stays away from me.

you're such a romantic.

i was hoping you'd come. i wanted to message you, but i didn't know how you'd feel about hearing from me.

they're also a little worried how you're gonna react to all this.

you have a little something in your teeth.

we need to come up with a game plan.

you are so terrible at this.

it's harder than you think.

they know i would never go out with a guy like you.

we just suck face in front of everybody.

you're calling me a fuckboy like it's an insult? i own that shit.

let's just be affectionate. i know it's a foreign concept for you.

you were the one who said there's a thin line between love and hate.

i think it was more of a euphemism for crying alone.

i definitely didn't hate you.

last night was the first thing i haven't regretted in a long time.

i love the weird way you stick your hand down my pants.

[jirsungs]

ep 6: the latte lounge incident

word count: 2.1k words (i write a lot...)

Much time has passed since Jaemin's last text, and you were almost done putting the finishing touches to your makeup and appearance. Once you were done, you walked outside of your apartment and locked the door shut behind you.

Not even a minute later, a car honks from behind you, and you turn around to see your dark-haired friend as the culprit, sitting in the driver's seat of his white Honda Civic. You walk down to Jaemin's car, stopping in front of the passenger car door, which he opens for you.

The second you sit down and shut the door, you notice the many decorations around Jaemin's car. You forgot how decorative the man is.

A Kawaii plushie hanging on his rearview mirror catches your attention the most, you hold in a laugh seeing it.

"Um, since when did you have that?" Jaemin doesn't get what you're referring to until he follows your eyes and finds them eyeing his light pink bunny plushie hung by a darker pink sparkly chain.

Your friend claps his hand in realization, "Ahhh, that!" He sees you still attempting to hold in your laugh, "Ning bought it for me, and don't laugh! There's nothing wrong with a man loving and enjoying cute plushies!"

You ignore his plea and start giggling at his protest, "Just drive, Jaem."

He doesn't scold you for laughing. But before he starts the car's ignition, you see him jut out his bottom lip in a pout, making you giggle even more.

“Holy shit, that's Latte Lounge?” Jaemin makes a hum of affirmation in response to your amazed question. He continues to pass the coffee shop to find a parking space while you are busy, admiring the place. It's decorated cutely with two round tan-colored tables with matching umbrellas out front, an espresso-colored awning to help with the shade, and two lanterns on both sides of the awning. What amazed you the most was the string of people lining up outside the door.

Jaemin puts the car in park when he answers your question again, “I heard it's even prettier inside. I think the manager's a woman too.”

“That explains the nice decorations.” is the last thing you say before you and Jaemin exit the car to walk up to the line and join the wait.

Turns out Jaemin was right, the coffee shop was somehow decorated ten times prettier than the outside. The aroma of coffee beans and the chatter of customers welcomed you and it somehow felt comforting. You observe customers all around, your eyes skim through the room as you see a group of four sitting on the bean bags placed in the corner of the shop as they chat amongst themselves, a couple playing Connect 4 on one of the coffee tables near the board games area, and when you look up to the ceiling, you found it to be lit up with multiple hanging fairy lights. No wonder this place gained popularity two weeks after opening. 

Fortunately for both of you, the wait ended up shorter than you thought. For the number of people waiting, you and Jaemin guessed it would be a twenty-minute wait until it got to your turn, but here you were, already one person away from the cashier.

Your eyes slightly widen when you see who it is. Haechan? Rockway's lead singer? The man who absolutely rocked MJ's P.Y.T.?

It was different seeing him in a barista uniform. You’ve only seen him in his casual attire. But it wasn't a bad difference, it was different in a good way. 

As you’re both signaled for your turn, you notice how he's busy clearing out the previous order to look up at the both of you. 

Haechan's still pressing on the pad when he says, “Hi, welcome to Latte Lounge, how can I–” But pauses when he looks up and recognizes Jaemin. “What the hell, Jaemin! How’s it going, dude?” His once forced happy posture was now comfortably bright.

You found the sudden happiness plastered on Haechan’s face upon seeing Jaemin to be endearing. 

He leans over the counter to bring your friend in for one of those dap-and-hug guys always do and Jaemin immediately returns it with a tap on the guy’s back. With you now feeling awkward, you clear your throat in hopes Jaemin will get your mental signal and formally introduce you to his friend.

And thank god he does. Upon hearing your cough, Jaemin then turns to you, “Oh! By the way, Haechan, this is Y/N. She’s one of the friends I brought to your guys’ performance last Friday.” 

“Ohhh… so you’re Y/N.” Haechan, as you remember, says with a teasing tone. But just as you're about to question it, another guy who's preparing drinks in the back cuts you off with a yell to Haechan to focus on working. 

“Yeah yeah, I got it, Jeno!” Haechan yells back before giving you and Jaemin an apologetic look, mouthing a “sorry.”

Jeno… Jeno… Like, Jeno the bass player Jeno?! Since when did they all work at Latte Lounge? You think.

Wait. That doesn't include him, right?

Haechan, finally asking for your orders, interrupts your mental dilemma, and you don’t seem to remember what you were stressing about after you get your order number.

“Haechan, are you seriously sure this is gonna work?” Jeno doubtfully asks his friend for the seventh time.

The both of them were hiding in the employee's area after Haechan whined for Jisung to take his place at the cashier. When the younger one finally gave in, Haechan immediately pushed Jeno inside, leading them here, stuck in an area that reeked of coffee bean bags and dairy products so Haechan could discuss his plan with his friend for the—oh wait, he doesn’t remember the number—of times.

Haechan lets out an exasperated sigh at the repeated question, “Jeno, you’re stressing for no reason. Trust me, it’ll work. We’ll just have Jisung give Y/N and Jaemin their drinks and once he’s at their table, I’ll bump myself into him and—”

“Just don’t make it obvious or overdo it.”

Haechan frowns at the response, “I’m hurt that you really don’t trust me with this plan. I won’t do either of those things because once I push him into Y/N, her latte will spill on her shirt, PTSD, am I right?” He jokingly elbows Jeno’s side but stops when he sees no reaction from him so he continues, “Okay, after that, you party pooper, that’ll give Jisung the opportunity to fix what happened the first time and apologize by helping her out! See, isn't it a great plan?”

“Well… a great plan wouldn't include making it worse for him because now she'll end up with a second stained outfit and no caramel latte which may I remind you, Jaemin paid for that. Also, shouldn't we at least let Jisung in about this?”

Annoyed with Jeno's constant protests, Haechan shoves the round black serving tray in his friend's arms and pushes him outside the swinging doors in Jisung's direction, “That'll just ruin the authentic reaction, so just trust me, he's gonna thank us for this. Now, go get ‘em, tiger!”

“But I really think we sh—”

Once pushed outside, Jeno is suddenly met with Jisung's front and his sentence never gets finished. The younger one jumps at the close proximity.

“God! Geez, Jeno!” 

The older one only gives a small smile, almost resembling a puppy before apologizing, “My bad, Ji. Hey, uh—” Jeno's eyes shift to the round tray which Jisung follows, “Order number 89 is ready, can you serve their drinks to their table for me?”

Jeno tries his best to stay convincing but it only makes Jisung raise one of his eyebrows in suspicion, “And why can't you serve it?”

That one simple question causes Jeno's brain cogs to stop working because his attempt to be convincing is now replaced with hesitant stutters.

“Uh, well, you see…”

Back in the employee's area, Haechan is watching Jeno's performance behind the swinging doors and is left impatient because of how bad he's doing. He lets out a quiet groan before walking out to help him. He stands behind the helpless man and puts his hands on his shoulders as a show of support.

“It's time for Jeno's break, Sungie. That's why he needs you to take his place.” 

Haechan's tone sounds a little bit too casual and it leads Jisung to glance back and forth between both of his friends. Though he's still confused by Jeno’s sudden change in behavior, Haechan sounded normal and that was enough to convince him.

“Oh. Okay. Jeno, why couldn't you just say that then?”

Jeno shrugs instead of giving a verbal answer out of fear that he’ll make the situation more obvious.

Jisung gets the round tray from Jeno’s hands and walks over to the metal counter and places the finished caramel latte and iced Americano on the tray. Just before he’s about to walk out of the working station, he eyes his friends once more. Jeno’s still anxious while Haechan gives a tight-lipped smile. 

They're acting weird. But then again, that's normal.

He scans the place for a table with table number 89, once spotting it, he begins to walk over, his hands carefully holding the tray to avoid it spilling. As he’s walking up to the table, he recognizes Jaemin but sees he’s accompanied by a woman. Your back is facing him and your hair isn’t familiar to him.

Is he… on a date? Jisung thinks.

But right when he reaches the table, you and Jaemin look over, and the next thing you know, your drinks spill on it… and your outfit. Again. 

Neither of you has time to react because Jisung’s panicked placing of napkins and apologies distract you. “I am… so sorry. You guys can have drinks for free. I’ll pay for—” That’s when he finally sees you. Y/N.

Oh shit. 

And you snap. “Great, another ruined outfit. Are you doing this on purpose, like, do you enjoy this or something?” You bitterly dab the multiple napkins in your hand, trying your best to lessen the spill from spreading on your outfit. Your malice tone from Johnny’s party makes its appearance once again.

Similar to what happened during your interaction at Johnny’s, Jisung is just as confused as to why you’re being so difficult when his attempt to help you is purely an act done out of generosity.

“What the hell is your problem? Do you seriously think that lowly of me?”

You take your focus away from your shirt to look at the now defensive young man in front of you in disbelief, “Yeah, I do. This is your second time doing this, and the first time, you didn’t even apologize!”

Jisung rubs his forehead with his hand in distress, he becomes more visibly fed up the more your anger spews out at him, “Y/N, I’m sorry, alright? Just let me help you, please stop fighting it.” 

But his eagerness to help is what leads you to crack even more.

“Jisung, can you just leave?! I don’t want or need your help.”

And you guess, him too, because the thing you know, he can’t take it anymore and spits out his anger right there in the middle of the coffee shop, “You know what, fine. I tried to be nice and somehow gain your kindness back but you are making this so difficult. If you wanna stay stubborn, then have it your way. Stay fucking stubborn.” 

He ends with the slam of the semi-latte-drenched napkins on your and Jaemin’s table before storming out to the back of the shop, his mind completely shutting out the murmurs from the watching customers. Your breathing stops when you watch him walk away, and in the peripheral of your eye, you see Jaemin looking at you. Why does this feel embarrassing? Why are you regretting yelling at him?

“Jisung!” 

Your world blurs out again, the only sounds heard are from the swinging doors opening in and out along with the shouts and movement from Haechan and Jeno as they chase after the stupid drummer boy. For your benefit, it gives you time to fully indulge in what the heck just happened and ignore those talking around you. 

You mentally replay him getting mad at you over and over. He said it in such a manner that results in you having a guilty lump in your throat and your brain almost tells you to run after him and apologize. You’ve never seen that side of him before, though, you haven’t seen much with your small number of interactions. 

But your pride matters more. If he wants stubborn, then you’ll show him stubborn.

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

note: RAAHAHA their hatred is finally deep. thank the lord!! i had sm writer's block w coming up with this chapter but i'm honestly really happy w how this turned out :)) we welcome their enemies era with love and open arms

🎫: @idkwhatursayinh @sunghoonsgfreal @multifandomania @nanaxwi @odxrilove @sourrpatched @hancafe @chaellaa @dojaejunging @jising-jisang-jisung @heheheeral @haechansbbg @renjunsversion @seunghancore @woshixinqgiu @jiiieun @pinknjm

[chosokamosbf]

⋆L⋆I⋆G⋆H⋆T⋆H⋆E⋆A⋆D⋆E⋆D⋆

☆ 18+ only/no minors. | jason todd x male! reader.

SUMMARY: a nsft fic where jason puts his boyfriend into a chokehold. WARNINGs: 18+, established relationship, choking, m! sub! reader, dom! jason, (reader receiving) light degradation, overstimulation. WORD COUNT 700+ NOTEs: second person & no plot. insert/reader is a woozy in this one sooo they act a bit "silly." ["Stupid/pretty boy," and no pronouns used to refer to the insert/reader.]

Your pants are caught around your knees; everything else is pushed aside to the barest amount so the desperation leaking in between an otherwise gentle make-out wouldn't have been left unattended. His boxers are ruined—stripped right to his thighs after a near hour or so of caged between them and the man sitting on his lap.

His head was resting in the crook of your neck the whole time, so every hitch in it was caught straight away whenever you had to adjust your sitting.

Whatever movie was playing ended long ago, and now some senseless drama is playing on mute.

You don't know how long you've been doing this.

He hasn't let you move much to even see the clock sitting by on the nightstand. Your only sense of passing time other than the building ache is how the sun is now descending over the city and, in turn, your two's little slice of paradise of a mediocre apartment. It cascades on one side of the room in a dark orange glow after hours of singing in a brighter tone through a small opening in the curtains.

It's all fun and games with someone with a trunk load of stamina until your endless pleas have gotten your eyes rolled back to the very edge, a hazy mind overwhelmed with every single sensation. It's almost painful, even.

Your stomach convulses as you come over and over on his cock while you're stuck being pulled back on it by the hip. His breaths are coming out in heated pants as he bottoms out in you again, pressed against your back like he's using you for support.

Words almost don't process through the fog. "You like this, huh? Fuckin' nasty." 

"Yeaa—yeah. Love it so much—love you. It feels so... so good."

Jason doesn't want to hold it in, so he doesn't—and so a snort carries through before he's mimicking how your voice slurs. He barely gets through his sentence before laughter bubbles up, and his chest is softly trembling against your back from the restraint.

"Awh, you looove me? Stupid boy's drunk on some dick."

An arm braces itself right next to yours, and then a hand toys and intertwines the tips of both your fingers.

The other hand wraps around your jaw to turn your face to the side, and he doesn't bother containing the smile that comes with watching the way you have to crane your head to meet his gaze. The few tears streaming down your face catch what little light is still in the room.

He presses a kiss against your own lips, and it ends right after so he can dry your face with his sleeve. That arm wraps around your neck to keep you against him—make you feel how fast the pace of his heart is through the fabric.

The thrusts of his hips into yours stutter, and he uses those few moments of peace to round his arm further off, bit by bit, so his hand can squeeze nicely around you. His teeth catch on his bottom lip, almost slipping through an old cut on it as he tries to muffle some groans.

Your head falls back onto his shoulder as most thoughts fade into the background with the fleeting air.

Jason presses down on the evident bulge in your lower stomach where his cock shows through, and he rubs it gently, knowing how overstimulated you have to be by now. Your body retracts back into his, moving away from the assaulting hand, and he just laughs despite his sore throat.

And he tries to make sure you share the feeling by tightening the grip around your throat.

Slowly, he settles you on your stomach.

He keeps your bottom half propped up by the knees, your legs pressed together so he can push in deep still. The arm holding the two of you up only seconds ago traces your back to rub rough calluses at the tense muscles building up around the top. He keeps your face from getting buried in the sheets and listens close to every sound that comes from the drooling mouth.

"C'mon." His voice trails out into a rough drawl, making sure you take every inch. "Be a good boy and cum f'me again, okay?"

[sepherinaspoppies]

whatever may come - dark! aemond targaryen x servant reader

summary: aemond punishes his maidservant after catching her talking to a stableboy. he, however, will not recognize the consequences to his actions later on.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, noncon, dubcon, oral m receiving, cum play?, p in v sex, rough sex, possessiveness, degradation. I think that's it?

wc: 2,700

my masterlist

notes: lol this was inspired by a tiktok edit?? anyways I think this is dark? I apologize if this sounds like crap, I ruined my sleep schedule for this?? haha

byka līve: little whore

She silenced her whimpers to the best of her ability, her lower lip caught between her teeth so tightly that she could taste the metallic drops of her blood as the man above her painfully gripped the very roots of her hair jerking her trembling body away from his lap to the stone cold floor. 

She looked up through her eyelashes as she watched him correct her posture to his liking like a mere doll, the same ones she would watch him play with in the privacy of his sister’s chambers whenever she did her maid duties. 

After he had settled her into her knees, she immediately let out a sigh of relief as that burn waved itself away to solace. She continued to look at him, back and forth between his lone violet eye and his sparkling sapphire that only seemed to strangely glow whenever she was present. His expression was unreadable from the previous austere one where moments ago he remorselessly and brutally, to be quite clear, hit multiple blows against her bottom, making her count each and every single one without tears in her eyes. She never knew how to count, but Aemond made sure to teach her with each hit upwards to twenty. 

She knew Aemond was angry and he had every right to be. Earlier on the day as he was training with his mother’s knight, Criston Cole, out in the outer yard when he spotted his favorite maidservant blushing and laughing with a plainly featured stableboy as his dirty little fingers swept back a piece of loose hair out of her face. 

Never once did Aemond ever see his maidservant smile that brightly before much less directed towards him. And she had no reason to whatsoever. His presence did not bring her joy or an ounce of merriment, it was much the opposite of that. So why did Aemond believe that he deserved a little smile when all he ever did was defile, break and use her all whilst making her cry in the end? 

There was only one reason a low born male like him smiled that way and Aemond shunned those ill fitting thoughts out of his mind for he did not want to think of another man touching his maidservant. 

She was his and his only, no one else’s. And she’d do well to remember that. 

“Undress me, byka līve” Aemond demands, speaking the last two phrases in his ancestral language. Never knowing what they meant, if they were expressed appreciatively or aimed in an appraising matter. 

Deep down she had an inkling that they were not. 

She blinked, hesitantly bringing herself up from the floor. Just as she began to unfasten his black leather doublet, her hair was tugged yet again before her knees were bent back down against the stone. 

She winced, carefully not to make any sound. 

“No, byka līve, not there. Here—” His fingers threaded her hair more tightly, pressing her face flat against his pelvis. She could feel the swellness of his cock across her face, where the base of his manhood started nudging at the bottom of her chin and where the pulsating tip pressed a little above her eyes. 

But what astonished her the most was the small wet patch that amplified the smell of his sex. Surely, this was not what she thought it was. 

There was only one way to find out.

The one eyed prince released his tight grip on the roots of her hair. She wondered that by the end of the night, after he was done with her if there would be any hair left. Her hair was the only thing she liked about her appearance, the smooth texture with hidden silver highlights.

“Look at me while you undress me” 

With a shaky breath, she nodded as her hands moved to unlace his breeches, tugging down just below where his stones ended until the garment pooled at his feet. A part of her felt grateful it was him she was looking and not his throbbing parts. 

Aemond was determined to peak again, seeing his red faced maidservant so obedient and frightened before him. It almost made him want to reward her with either his fingers or tongue or mayhaps both. 

But she wasn’t here for a reward. She was unbefitting for such a thing. It was because of her whore like behavior akin to the sordid ones in the Silk of Street that filthy stableboy had his eyes already set on her. 

And he can not have that happening. 

Without further warning, she feels two of his fingers ruthlessly being shoved at the back of her throat. He gives her no time to settle what he was doing to her as his long digits begin to pump in and out of her at an outrageous pace that involuntarily makes her eyes produce tears. 

Above her, she hears her prince hum with a dark look in his eye that sends shivers down her spine. She shouldn’t be enjoying this, it was wrong. This act, along with the various ones from previous nights and mayhaps the forthcoming ones, were suitable for a married woman and her husband. Not a prince and his maidservant. She stood to gain nothing from this. 

“This mouth is mine” Aemond breathlessly whispered as his fingers curled in a come hither motion, her lips kissing his knuckles. At his words, she lets out a series of sobs loud enough for Aemond to tug her head back in distaste. 

“What? Do you have something to say in the matter? Do you not think you belong to me?” 

She shut her eyes, flinching at the sonority of his voice, thinking by doing that he would go away dissatisfied and search for someone to take her place. 

But her silence only seemed to anger him more. 

“Fucking answer me, byka līve!” he yells close to her ear. 

For the first time since her counting, she spoke with a shaking voice. “Y-y-yes, Your Grace” 

“Yes what? Hmm?” 

She gasps and opens her eyes feeling her prince’s fingers twist and pinch her covered hard nipple, “I’m- I’m yours, my prince” 

“You don’t sound so convinced that you are, byka līve” he licks his lips before tutting. Such a sound made her feel alarmed and more frightened. “Do I need to remind you, again?” Aemond asks, bringing his hand to his manhood. 

As familiarized as she was with his nakedness, she could not help to invite herself to look at all of him. Centimeters close to her face, stood his very erect cock, thick and heavy as she saw last, skin pulled back to reveal his needy red tip with mix remnants of arousal and spend. 

It brought her shame and disgust the way her core seemed to long and yearn for the fullness he brought upon her. 

Aemond, frustrated in her lack of words, taps the tip of his cock on her bottom lip before he shoves his way into her warm mouth. He could feel his maidservant whine uncomfortably from only taking half of him. Fucking weak whore. Aemond cursed to himself. He knew she could take more, she had done so before. 

“Fuck” 

Her chest heaves rapidly trying to keep her air supply to the best she can and opening her mouth wider to make it easier for her to suit his thickness since it had been a while since his cock rested around her lips. Her prince, as of late, preferred to be inside her walls in all the hours of the day and night. In that order. 

Once the one eyed prince was certain her mouth had accommodated his size, he took no more time yanking her head down sheathing every inch to the back of her throat, sighing in pleasure. 

The vibrations of her whimpers spurred Aemond on as his hips started to thrust in and out of her lips, slowly at first to enjoy the soft ridges that her throat had to offer and her tongue. Seven Hells, her tongue instinctively raising up whenever his tip rested there for a second, making him forget the reason why he was doing this in the first place. Her punishment. 

“Are–you…fuck– starting to fucking remember who you b-belong to, byka līve? Hmm?” Aemond asked, wrapping his hand around her throat to feel the bulge of his cock sliding in and out. 

“Y-yes” she forces out through the tightness of her throat, trails of drool escaping the corners of her mouth. Aemond darkly laughs and moans at her response as his hips hasten their speed, chasing his nearing peak. 

“Good girl” he coos, his eye looking down at her flushed face. “My good sweet girl” —thrust— “I’m going to cum on your face” (a/n: listen to this tiktok if you want to hear him say it lol xD okay byeee)

She has no time to react as she feels hot ropes of his seed spurting all across her face. From her eyes to her cheeks and lips she feels it all. 

She hears her prince groan, as he pumps his cock faster feeling his second release coming again. 

And this time she knew to tilt her away to not get any more on her eyes or her hair. She heard stories from other maids that a man’s seed would knot into hair, making it impossible to get rid of. She didn’t know if it was true or not but she did not want to take her chances. 

“Just as I was beginning to think to reward you” He hissed, pulling her to stand. She whimpers, her head hot and spinning from getting up too fast. 

The raged prince spins his maidservant around, using the dagger Cole gifted him for his fourteenth nameday to rip through her night shift right below the dimples of her arse. The temperature of his chambers, which wasn’t too cold nor warm, caused the little hairs around on her body to raise.  

She tried to cover her bareness with her hands, whatever could fit on her palms. Since the beginning of their coupling, Aemond commanded her that she was to keep her shift on, only slightly raised to her hips. Not that she had any complaints, but it made her truly wonder why he’d be bare and not her. 

“This” Aemond cups her soaked mound, “Cunt is mine. Mine only to fuck and to do whatever I please. It’s not some filthy– dolt stableboy’s” He growls next to her. 

She parts open her lips at the realization that he was the heated gaze she felt on her back when she was discussing with Linus at the outer yard. She should have known her prince would be there training every morning like he always was. But it must have slipped her mind somehow. 

Aemond scowls, “I saw you, byka līve. Saw you speaking to him and letting him touch you. Saw him leave your room” 

She doesn’t get the chance to reply; to tell him that what he saw was not what it looked like. But her tongue was caught between her teeth before he roughly drags her body to slightly bend her over by his dressing mirror, giving himself a few vigorous pumps as he watches his proud work dripping on his pretty maidservant’s face. 

“Please, my prince. It isn’t…oh!” Feeling him enter in one sharp thrust deep, she gasps at the sudden fullness. There wasn’t any part of her that was empty, her cunt felt so deliciously stuffed to the brim. 

“It isn’t what? Are you telling me that my eye deceived me?” He asks in a strain voice, trying to hold his authority over her whilst controlling his sounds of pleasure. “Did I or did I not see you fucking laughing with him or—Seven Hells—letting his dirty little fingers touch you? Must I remind you it is a grave offense to lie to your prince, byka līve?” 

White hot pleasure runs deep inside her belly as his thrusts quicken to get an answer from her yet she struggles to keep her composure. “N-no, my prince, Linus came t-t-to meee. He said I had a ladybug on my hair and—” she rolls her head back to rest on his shoulder feeling her peak coming closer and closer. “Said I was pretty b-but, my prince—” 

Wanting to hear no more of this, Aemond stopped his movements, much to his dismay, wrapping his hand around her throat so tightly she knew it would bruise like the other times he took her from the same exact position. 

“Oh, he called you pretty did he? I wonder what he’ll think now with my spend on your face” 

Fear and embarrassment wormed itself to her body. She did not want anyone to see her this way, exposed, bare, and being fucked by the prince of the Queen’s second eldest son. Soon enough when the time came when she was no longer useful to him, she thought about lying to her future husband–if she ever met one worthy of taking her far away from King’s Landing–persuading him she was still pure, not touched by a possessive prince. 

“No please, my prince” She protested as Aemond grabbed the small little bell that was used to call in a Kingsguard.

He ignored her pleas not even attempting to hide her nakedness or her pearly white soaked face as Ser Arryk walked into the chamber being instructed to bring Linus from the stables. 

“Hush, byka līve” He cooed behind her, repositioning his cock back into her entrance. Any moment longer, he felt like his cock would explode from another release being denied. “Now, I might not let him in but only if you do not hide your sounds” 

She nods to the vigorous deep thrusts Aemond sets in, feeling more of her slick dripping down her thighs, aiding to the heavy slapping sound of their sex coming as one. She arched her back against Aemond’s chest, releasing mixes of intense pants and moans, gazing at the way Aemond’s face scrunches from bliss through the mirror. 

“Give it to me” Aemond groans, feeling his maidservant’s cunt flutter and clench around him. A sign that her peak was forthcoming. He snakes his hand down to her bud and curses loudly at how wet she was. 

She is a whore. Aemond thinks as he circles the bundle of nerves. 

At this, she gives Aemond a series of loud cries that she knew would be heard throughout the Keep. And in the morrow the castle would be surrounded with heavy gossip of who the lewd sounds belonged to and who caused them. 

“Gods, fuck!” 

Aemond smiled through the mirror, fucking her through her peak until he too began to yell out in ecstasy. His seed spilling deep into her womb. 

After their breaths settled, two loud knocks followed by the voice of Ser Arryk caused her to look at her prince in panic, hoping he’d dismiss them since she did what he asked her to do. 

“Come,” Aemond loudly announced, grabbing a cup of Pentoshi wine from his dinner table, ignoring the sobbing pleas from his maidservant. 

She tried to back away, desperately needing to shield herself away but that only caused the silver prince to tut and shake his head as a warning. 

The door shut loudly behind Linus as he came into the chambers, slowly and unsure why he was being called into the Prince’s chambers at this hour when he should be sleeping. 

“Linus, is it?” Aemond questioned, even though he knew the answer. 

Linus averts his gaze from the Prince’s nakedness, and nods. “Y-yes, my prince, if it pleases you” 

“Well, Linus. I am in need of your opinion, and I want you to be honest with me. Do you think that she looks glorious—pretty even, with my cum on her face?” 

She can not bring herself to look at the red headed man she considered a friend, knowing that the loud silence lingering around confirmed that he did not find her pretty like he had called her, hours ago. 

In fact, no one would ever find her pretty now. She was ruined and now a whore, like her mother had been when she too was seduced by a prince. 

a/n: if requested ill release two parts of this (one when aemond meets her and another for what happens next lol)

taglist: @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @fullmoonworshipper @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @kittendoll05

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[haikyu-mp4]

Two jobs, part 2

word count; 1107 – set a few years after part 1, reader and Osamu are married and the three of you live together. I gave your son a name, Kazuo, to make writing easier

You were away on a business trip and left your two favourite guys to take care of each other for a few days. Luckily, you didn’t have to do this often, but you were relieved they got along so well that you could. Even though Kazuo grew attached to Osamu in a way before you two even started dating, it had been an adjustment for all of you after you got married and moved in together, especially because your son was at his most difficult age.

Currently, Kazuo sat on a bar chair by the island counter while Osamu made dinner. The two would often hang out in the kitchen together, because Kazuo liked spending time with Osamu when he had an excuse for it. He also found it hilarious when he asked his stepdad for help with his homework and Samu got frustrated because he didn’t understand it either. It was a peaceful connection they had, and you usually did your best to let them have their time in the kitchen to themselves even when you were home.

“Hey, look at this.” Osamu said to catch his attention. When Kazuo looked up, he did some weird juggling trick with the pepper shaker before adding the necessary seasoning to the soup he was making. Then he did the same with the salt to show it wasn’t a fluke. “Am I cool, or what?” It was meant as a joke, but there was a hopeful look in his eyes.

Kazuo made a face. “Uhh… yeah.” he said, which was an obvious lie, making Osamu deflate. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt particularly sensitive about it all of a sudden. Perhaps it had something to do with the difference of how Kazuo looked when he got to play volleyball with his twin compared to how he politely declined lately when Osamu asked him if they should do some passes in the garden.

“Do you not think I’m cool?” he asked after a long silence, leaning one hand on his hip while the other stirred the soup to make sure it didn’t stick to the bottom.

“Not like Tsumu.” Kazuo answered honestly without thinking about it, eyes on his homework so he didn’t notice his stepdad’s face scrunching up. If he thought he felt sensitive before, that one hit the spot for sure. “But it’s okay, being a chef is good too.” The boy honestly didn’t think adults cared so much about being cool.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t take pity on me now.” he said followed by a deep sigh. “Maybe I should cook you instead, you gremlin.” Kazuo just laughed, unknowing of Osamu’s bruised ego. When he turned back to his homework, Osamu pulled his phone out and opened messages, sending a simple ‘You’re ugly and stupid’ to Atsumu without context. That made him feel a little better, at least. You bet he’ll call you that night before bed for some reassurance. And to remind you that he loves you, of course.

Sometimes, Kazuo was allowed to go to parties in exchange for sharing his location at all times while he was away with whichever parental figure was home at the time. Usually, the parties were alright. Typical underage parties where someone had stolen a few beers from a parent and they all tasted it before looking disgusted and swearing to never drink it again. He would be picked up at the agreed time with a few complaints of how lame you were for setting those rules, and then he would tell you he loved you under his breath before going to bed.

However, they were growing older and that came with engaging in new topics of interest. That’s how Kazuo ended up in a game of seven minutes in heaven that he desperately wanted out of. It’s not like he could just tell them he might prefer guys over girls, he wasn’t even sure yet himself! It was all too much, so he snuck away and pulled out his phone with slightly shaky hands. You’re still on your business trip, and he was starting to miss you even though he would never tell you that. After all, you were the only one he relied on for the first 10 years of his life.

He pulled up his contacts on the old phone you had gifted him, scrolling past your contact until he got to a Miya. Even though he knew Atsumu liked spending time with him, he didn’t seem to have that much spare time anymore. Actually, he probably wouldn’t call Atsumu for an emergency anyways, he realised. Tsumu was more of a cool uncle, like he told Osamu in the kitchen the day before. Now that he was in trouble, he already knew who he had to call.

“Samu…” Kazuo said, voice cracking a little so he pretended to clear his throat.

“What’s up, buddy?” Osamu sounded tired, like he had taken a nap in that recliner he loved to occupy when you weren’t home. If you knew he snoozed off while your boy was at a party, you would not be happy, but at least he picked up the phone.

“Can you come pick me up?” he asked not too loudly, frowning at the floor. “I’m okay, I just want to go home.” He tried to sound tough and chill, but it didn’t fool Osamu.

“Sure, I’ll head out now. Go outside in about 15 minutes but not before. Actually, stay inside until I’m there.” Kazuo chuckled a bit at Osamu’s short ramble where he corrected himself, then he hummed in confirmation and hung up. So he told his friends he was feeling under the weather and went outside when Osamu came to pick him up.

Kazuo didn’t say much more than “Thanks for picking me up,” and “I don’t want to talk about it,” after getting in the car, and Osamu knew he would rather tell you about it than him, so he didn’t pry.

Instead, he clicked his tongue with a cheeky smile. “You know, the new Star Wars movie just came out for streaming. I won’t tell your mom we stayed up late if you don’t.”

And as he looked to the side where Kazuo fiddled with his hands in the passenger seat wearing a relieved smile, safe because he dared text him for help, Osamu decided that he didn’t need to be cool. He just had to be there.

Even so, his chest bloomed with pride when Kazuo came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth for the night and told him, “Thanks for the movie, Samu. You are pretty cool.”

masterlist

taglist: @miyamizuna, @makkir0ll, @shiratorizawa-can-step-on-me, @sobbing-leave-me-alone-bots, @eeerreehhh, @f4iryk3i, @cosmiicdust, @malikazz243

[scandinavianfairytale]

Filthy

Pairing: Senator Steve Rogers x Assistant Reader

Warnings: This is straight up filth 😅 18+, Rated R 🙈 Smut, including but not limited to: oral, PinV, cheating, power dynamic is askew, age gap...

It was wrong. So wrong. So very wrong. For a number of reasons.

1. He was married.

2. He was significantly older than you. And we're talking about that he could be you father older than you.

3. He was your boss.

You could probably think of other reasons why, but these were the major ones. Yet, it didn't stop you from lusting after the senator. And you tried to distract yourself, mainly with work, but whenever you were alone with him, your knees shook, your core throbbed, and your head felt dizzy.

But you couldn't seduce a married man.

Or maybe you could.

Just not as directly as you would any other men.

In the beginning you were subtle. A button opened there, a skirt too short there. A little moan or gasp sprinkled in between the meetings. A hand lingering too long.

Nothing. There was no reaction from Steve.

So then you resorted to blatant tactics. Before going into his office you changed into the same clothes, just two sizes two small. On a number of occasions you even forgot the bra.

Still nothing. He was driving you insane. After every meeting where you basically offered yourself on a silver plate,.you had to go to the restroom and take the edge off. Your hands felt like cheap alternative to what you were actually after. Even at home, your toys paled in comparison to the fantasies that were playing in your head.

In one last ditch effort, you put on the tightest skirt you had in your wardrobe, a skirt that was more like a second skin than a piece of clothing. Ditching the thong, you entered Senator Rogers office, knees shaking in anticipation of what might happen.

He fucked you that night. Three times. Your head was spinning by the end of the fuck session. You were bent over the table, taken on the floor, on all fours, the couch used for support after your arms gave out and then to properly finish the evening, you got down on your knees and sucked him off.

After that, you were hooked. You were insatiable. How could you not be? The way he looked, sounded, and carried himself was enough to drive a woman insane. Put that together with the best fuck you experienced in your life and you got yourself a proper cock whore.

Steve was preparing his notes for tomorrows speech when a soft knock on the door of his office interrupted his train of thought. Your head poked through the crack and he smiled, motioning you in.

"Why are you still here so late?" Steve asked as he patted the chair next to him, insinuating that you can or should sit.

"Well, there are so many things left to do by tomorrow." You replied as you sat down. Steve picked up his scotch and leaned back in the leather sofa he was sitting in.

"There's always a lot of work to be done. And I know all the necessary things have already been done, so why don't you try again, sweetheart." He smirked.

"I wanted to catch you alone." You bit your bottom lip.

"Oh?" Steve cocked an eyebrow.

"I want to help you. I can see you're stressed and I thought, maybe I could help."

"How do you think you could help me?" You stood up, and you took his hand, guiding it under your skirt. Steve's eyes widened as his hand came into contact with your bare and very wet pussy. Your breathing deepend as his guided hand cupped you, and your tummy tensed in anticipation.

"I think you might be right." Steve smirked as he scanned your face, eyes hodded, lips parted and a little flush in the cheeks.

Beautiful.

"Stand wider. I want to feel you." He commanded, and you obeyed, no questions asked. As soon as your skirt was hiked up, Steve's fingers invaded your slippery hole, making you moan. He started fingering you, and those wet, squelching noises that he loved started coming from you. Plus combining with your pants and moans...music to his ears.

He knew he was bad. Sick, some would even call him. After all, he was MUCH older than you and in a position of power.

But it's not like you were that innocent either. Not when you flaunted your assests just to get a rise out of your boss. You definitely were not innocent when you grabbed his tie, pulling him into a supply closet at the Gala and giving him the best head he's ever had, while his wife was looking for him. And especially not when after just swallowing his cum, you talked to his wife, laighing with her as if you were good friends.

And it's not like he didn’t feel the guilt. His wife was the love of his life. They made a life together. A good life. He still loved her. Steve knew he would always love Peggy. He knows he will never love anyone else, but love and lust are not the same. Missionary sex once a month in the shared bed is not the same as the risky, almost violent, ball busting sex in all positions in all places at all times pf the day or night.

"Senator." You moaned, as you stopped holding back your need and your hips started gyrating against his hand. That. That right there, that was what sealed the deal for him. That was when he realized that while it was a regrettable mistake, he was going to make it again and again. And again.

"Are you gonna cum?" Steve's eyes darkened as he watched your pussy grinding against his hand and knuckles and how your juices oozed out, dripping down his forearms.

"Uh-huh" Your needy voice surprised you. You have never been this needy before.

"Come here." He demanded, his other hand grabbing your hips, steadying them and he blew on your hot pussy, making you throw your head back, screaming in pleasure. Steve smirked before delving next to his fingers, and he started lapping at your juices, savoring the taste like a starved man.

"More. Pleaseee, senator." You begged.

"Call me Steve." He smirked and he stopped everything he was doing, making you keen.

"Steve! Please, don't stop." You uncleanched your eyes, but he could see how much you wanted to roll your eyes in pleasure.

"Better. Now cum, sweetheart, let me taste you, properly."

It took only a few thrusts before you squirted all over his face. He held you in place, saving you from crumpling down on the floor as your knees shook. Steve kissed your pussy, smiling up at you as your breathing started getting back normal.

"Let me take care of you." You whispered as you straddled his hips, opening his trousers and pulling his painfully hard cock out before slowly sinking on him, your overly sensitive pussy, pulsating as it made room for his gritty cock.

"You feel amazing." Steve moaned as he felt your wet walls. You kissed him, pressing your body as close as you could, letting both of you feel the stretch. His hands traveled down to your ass, gripping it tight before he started thrusting up.

"Wait." You stopped him. "You just sit here, I'll do everything."

How could he refuse? How could he say no to you, really?

Sure enough, you got to work, grinding against his pelvis, thrusting your hips up and down, sending shivers and pulses down to your tiptoes. But Steve could not just sit still while you did all the work. He unbuttoned your blouse and pulled down your bra so your breasts spilled out. He realized all your cloths fit you now, as opposed to a few weeks ago.

"Before we started this, did you change your clothes every time before coming to see me?" He asked as he grabbed your jaw, making you look at him.

"Yes." You moaned. "I wanted to give you a preview."

"You certainly don't leave anything to the imagination, you dirty whore." He smirked and slapped your tit. He thought back to that day when this began. You nervously entered his office, bringing him the files he asked for. Just before reaching him, you tripped, and all the papers fell on the floor. He was going to help you, but then he noticed how tight the skirt you were wearing was and how it stuck to your skin, providing a visible outline of your pussy. At that point, he had been trying so hard to resist the temptation, but having this clear of a view of your pussy, he snapped. He bent you over the desk that night.

"Fuck yes." You screamed as his hand went to your clit and pinched it.

"Come on, you said you wanted to take care of me. Do it." Steve taunted. "Try harder."

You started circling your clit, while grinding at his pelvis. He could feel you clenching around him, and he knew you were close. He pinched one of your nipples, rolling it in between his fingers, while his mouth started sucking on the other.

"God, yes. Steve-I-" Your voice broke as you squirted again. You bucked your hips a couple of more times, before you climbed off of him and kneeled in front of his opened legs. His cock was just perfect, a little red, soaking from his precum and your juices and so thick. Your mouth practically watered at the sight of Senator's Rogers dick.

"Fuck." Steve let out as you took him down your throat. You were always eager to give a blowjob. You knew guys usually don't get good head and women in general don't like giving head. But you fucking loved it. There was so much power in this.

You took him whole, until your nose touched his hair base. Staying there, breathing through your nose, you stared at him.

"Fuck." He groaned as he looked at you.

Finally, you started bobbing your head up and down his shaft, the noises both of you were making were egging you on. One of your hands massaged his balls, while the other stroked his perineum, making the man above you shudder and thrust his hips further into your mouth. You smirked with your mouth full of cock. It really was a power move.

"C'mon, stop playing and make me come." Steve groaned in frustration, slapping you face and shoved your head down to the base of his cock, making you choke. You tapped his thigh and he let you go.

"Use my throat." You leaned back on your heels, opening your mouth, inviting him in. Steve stood up and pushed his cock down your throat again. His hands framed your head, and he started thrusting into you.

"God yes." Steve yelled in ecstasy. Your hands went to your pussy. One started playing with your clit while with the other you shoved three fingers in it.

"That's it, play with yourself." He shoved his cock faster and harder into your mouth. Like he was fucking your pussy and it made you so wet. It was the perfect sinful melody that filled the office. As you listened to him pant and groan, you knew he was close. His thrusts became erratic until finally he slammed your head down his cock and kept you there as he emptied his sack. You came at the same time, he shoved you down last time, squirting again.

As he let you go, you opened your mouth, showing him you swallowed every last drop.

Steve zipped up his pants while you sat in your own release, still panting. He brought you tissues to clean yourself up before helping you stand up and giving you a glass of water.

"Do you feel better?" You asked. Steve let out a chuckle.

"I feel much better. I think tomorrow's speech is going to go smoothly." He observed you. "Let me take you home. You shouldn't be driving this exhausted."

You nodded before taking his hand and letting him take you to his car. Steve let the driver know where to go, and he closed the door, waving you off, before returning back to his office and cleaning the mess you created.

------------------------------------

Thank you for reading 🙈

The GIF doesn't belong to me 💙

Yeah...so I have no words other than this is filthy 🙈 I'm not sorry though 🙈

[thevillainswhore]

Perverse Desires

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Assigned an undercover mission, you’re partnered up with the bane of your existence, Bucky, to pay a visit to a s-ex club. What could go wrong?

Warnings: Smut (s-ex club, oral f receiving, f-ingering, nipple play, voyeruism, exhibitionism, degradation)

A/N: unbeta’d, dividers by saradika

Um, idk where this came from tbh, enjoy tho x

“Are you sure I’m the right person for this, Cap?”

The mission brief Steve handed over to you had stunned you in all honesty. You had been on numerous undercover missions for the team in the past, so there was no doubt in your mind or anyone else’s that you were capable for the job. It was your speciality - having a knack for being precise with discrete sufficiency and perfect timing to be able to get in and get out without making a fuss. But, this was totally new, even for you.

“Agent, I have no concern whether you’re fit for this job. I know it’s… different.” Steve clears his throat and you know this is as awkward for him as it is for you. “But, you were highly recommended and you have a- um, how d-do I say this? You, er-“

Tony interrupts Steve’s rambling from his seat in the corner of the office you were all situated in, decidingly having enough of watching his co-worker stumble from embarrassment.

“What Captain prude is trying to say, sweetheart, is that you have the right look for the job - great features, killer body - y’know? You’ll draw the target out no problem.” He finishes his explanation by throwing a wink paired with a smug smirk at Steve’s flushed cheeks.

“Yes. Thank you, Tony.” The grimace on Steve’s face has you desperate to laugh at his unease, but you manage to keep it in, eager to get out of this office soon as possible. “Your skills and experience are also compatible with the nature of this mission, Agent - it’s imperative we don’t mess this up.”

Skimming over the mission brief once more, you take in the role you have to play. An exclusive member of a popular underground sex club that’s been flagged up by Fury for suspicion of covering up a huge drug ring. Target ‘Antonio Maxwell’ - the leader the Avengers were looking to take down. While it wasn’t a world-ending level threat, the new drug allegedly supplied by Maxwell had already implemented significant damage and a high number of mysterious death cases to those in contact with him, concerning enough for higher ups to ask for help with this.

That’s where you came in.

You had enough background knowledge of ring leaders and crime bosses to call point on this - having worked undercover multiple times in this specific area over your years as an agent. Knowing how men like this worked and their strategies to cover their tracks was your forte. This would be a piece of cake for you. Yeah, the sex club element was a new challenge for you, but you were up for it.

“Okay boys. I’m in.”

Pleased hums and mumbled chatter from Steve and Tony as they finished up the paperwork with your agreement faded to the distance as you read till the bottom of the page of the brief - a new detail you must have missed before catching your eye and making you frown in confusion. Lifting your gaze to the men, you question the two of them one more time.

“Um- guys, it says here I’ll be working with a partner? Can I ask who it is?”

And just as Steve and Tony throw each other a worried look that has your eyes growing wide with realisation, you hear the door click open, a tall, beefy figure joining the room to announce his presence.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

“Sorry I’m late Punk, what did’ya need?”

Bucky Barnes.

“Y’know you don’t have to look so happy to see me dollface, I know how much you love spending time with me.”

Hell didn’t have shit on this.

Barnes is the literal bane of your existence. Constantly a pain in your ass since he had nothing better to do with his days than annoy you. Avenger you may not be, but the amount of time you still have to spend around him is ridiculous. Training, gym, drills. He just seems to be in your presence 24/7 and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was doing it on purpose. His teasing and childish remarks at your capability to do your job always has you biting your tongue around him. Frustration leading you to walk away from what you were previously doing, or causing you to snap in anger and scream at him in front of the other recruits - smug smile plastered over the bastard’s face knowing he’d won, yet again.

Bucky was unbearable.

You are also possibly the only one in the entire Shield initiative, who hadn’t fallen for his charm or swooned over him - women and men actually falling over their feet just at the sight of him - never mind what they did to actually have a scrap of his attention.

Sickening.

And so you believe it’s because of this reason, Barnes has made it his business to make sure every day is torture for you. His fragile masculinity unable to comprehend that you’re just not into him. Not desperate enough to whittle your entire being to admiring him.

Even if he did have them ocean blue eyes you occasionally got lost in.

Where the hell did that come from?

“Just because we’re paired together Barnes, doesn’t mean we have to speak - let’s just get this mission done with and go back home. Sooner this is over the better.”

Bucky’s mock gasp at your scolding only boils your blood hotter.

“Okay, first of all, ouch, I thought we were friends, baby.” His low chuckle and his pet names have you fighting the war going on between your cunt and your head.

“And second of all, we kinda have to talk. It’s part of the mission - the whole sex crazed relationship we got going on to be exclusive members of the club, remember? Silly bunny, I know your head gets a little fuzzy sometimes, but catch up dollface, you’re slacking.”

Okay, that shouldn’t be making my panties wet.

Huffing a frustrated sigh and ignoring his efforts to rile you up, you snatch the mission brief out of the compartment of the car and place it over your legs to read it over one more time before reaching your destination. Not giving Bucky the satisfaction of seeing your thighs rub together to stop the ache in your pussy and the butterflies in your stomach.

“There’s a good girl.”

Fuck.

The tacky neon signs and the disco lights of the bar you arrive at almost give you a headache worse than Barnes did on a bad day - you know this is a front to their downstairs adult party.

Stepping out of the car in your knee high leather boots is a task, but you make it look effortless as you smoothly swing your legs round and stand up, shuffling your tight, mini black dress down to cover as much of your ass as possible. Your outfit had to match the vibe of the character you were playing and you didn’t sell her short.

Bucky, however, got the better end of the stick in his full black suit. Top three buttons of his shirt undone to reveal his broad chest with a smattering of hair.

Stupid fucking Barnes and his stupid, slutty chest.

Closing your eyes and inhaling a deep breath to calm your headspace for the mission, you fail to notice the silent ex-assassin creep up beside you and whisper in your ear, “Last minute nerves, dollface?”.

Your eyes open wide in shock at the feel of his breath against your neck, goosebumps running down your arms and you push down the urge to shiver. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ, do you mind? A bit of personal space would be nice please”, turning your head towards Bucky, you realise too late how close he is to you, noses almost bumping together as his intense gaze pins you to your spot.

“Can’t start getting all jumpy on me now, baby bunny. Thought you were good at your job.”

You can nearly feel the motion of his lips moving as he speaks. How easy it would be to just move that tiny bit closer to finally know if they’re as soft and plump as they look.

You’re better than this, he’s making you look weak - that’s his plan.

Your leather heels click as you walk away from him, tearing your body out of danger and berating yourself for acting just like those back at the compound, the lovesick recruits who put Bucky Barnes on a pedestal. You would not be like them. Not in a million years.

You don’t see Bucky cock his head as he watches your hips sway side to side, but you definitely hear his low whistle in reference to your ass - his grunt of laughter following soon after when you stick your middle finger up over your shoulder at him.

Security protocol of the club doesn’t take as long as you thought it would, the tech department handling your fake identity documents with the utmost care to ensure there would be no issues.

Now, you stood at the ominous red door at the end of the hallway, about to be let into the most prestigious sex club known. You couldn’t say you were totally ready, the natural fear of the unknown rattling your psyche. Yet, you didn’t let it show. Face stoic with a subtle sultry undertone to enhance your allure.

Bucky’s coded knocks on the door echoes through the hallway, his cold metal hand snaking over your waist and squeezing the meat of your hip. If the door hadn't opened as quick you would have stomped on his foot.

Would of served the fucker right.

And soon enough, with a private spoken password, only sent to the invited elite, you were in.

Holy. Fuck.

Had Bucky not kept his arm around your waist you would have fell flat on your ass.

Everywhere you looked had your heart beat erratically speeding up. Cocks. Tits. Pussys. All of it was on show without a care in the world. Threesomes, gangbangs, doms and subs. Any sexual position or kink your mind could conjure up was playing out in front of you - the glow of the red strobe lights highlighting the sweat, spit and cum covering numerous naked bodies.

The music blasting over the speakers had no chance of silencing the high pitched moans and needy whimpers of pleasure. Whips smacking against skin and leather cuffs clinking against railings - you didn’t know how to process your senses going haywire.

“What’s a matter, dollface? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen a cock before.”

You don’t think you could have suppressed the tingles shooting through your nerves at Bucky’s use of the word ‘cock’, the image already engraved in your mind of you squirming in his hold as he tells you his filthy thoughts.

Bitch, now is not the time.

Right, you had a mission to complete and you couldn’t fuck this up.

“Shut the fuck up Barnes. We didn’t come here to fuck around and argue, so you scour the left side of the room and I’ll take the right - if you see Maxwell then communicate through the coms.” Without listening to what would without a doubt be another jab at you from Bucky, you stepped away and left him alone, praying that a moment away from him would clear your head.

It had been at least an hour of searching, still no sign of Maxwell or at least any type of drug dealings you could snap a picture of for evidence. The ache ever present in your feet from the six inch leather boots. You had scoured the entirety of your side, ignoring the clapping of wet skin and grunts of feral men. You just needed a minute to rethink your strategy and come up with a new plan - something worthy enough to draw Maxwell out of his hiding spot for the night.

Stepping into the nearest open plan room, you lean against the wall and rub your temples in an attempt to get your brain flowing. Not noticing the growing crowd gathering to watch the spectacle on the sofa in the middle of the room. You really hadn’t paid attention to the man laying a woman down and spreading her legs for everyone to get a good view, too preoccupied with your own situation.

It only registered what was happening when you heard the first breathy whine of a woman, slowly lifting your head to witness a man licking her pussy in languid strokes, thumbs holding her folds open to suck her clit.

Shit, this is really happening.

It also occurred to you that the woman kind of looked like you - same hair colour and body type, enough to have you imagining it was you in her position.

You swallowed the growing knot in your throat, the arousal pooling in your lacy underwear creating a sticky mess. Chest heaving up and down as the scene before you had your breaths coming in heavier.

What the fuck am I doing?

You had never counted yourself as a voyeurist. You most definitely were not inexperienced and had experimented plenty in the bedroom with partners, but this was a total new sensation for you. Watching someone else bask in the pleasure their partner was bringing them, legs trembling uncontrollably. It was really doing it for you.

Without permission, you found yourself stepping closer, greedy to be just that tiny bit nearer to the main event. Your mouth stayed open as you placed your hands on both of your arms, licking your lips with raw need.

As you got a closer look at the man, you took in his mid length brunette hair, tied up in a bun at the back of his head. He had a broad stocky build, beefy and probably big enough to tower over you should he stand up. Wait…

He looks like Bucky.

You shifted on the balls of your feet at your new epiphany, shaking in anticipation on whether to stay and watch or leave.

Surely it couldn’t hurt to watch a little, right?

Bucky was growing fed up with the lack of leads on his hunt for information. No sightings of drugs and no clue where the leader of the drug ring was. He guesses you were still searching on your end too, a silent line on his com alerting him you’d found nothing as well.

He should probably go check to see how you’re doing.

While Bucky knows how irritated he makes you, it wasn’t his intention to make you dislike him, believe it or not. In fact, he had the biggest crush on you and just didn’t know how to deal with it. It’s true he really is used to most people gawking in lust over him and the endless invitations to go out for a drink. So when he first observed your blatant disregard for him, it sent him into a frenzy, powerless to his instant attraction for you. He was desperate to get a reaction out of you, even if it had you wanting to pummel him into the ground.

You’re cute when you’re angry, sue him.

And he’s not stupid enough to not comprehend the tension between you, you’re just unwilling to give in - don’t want the shame of contradicting yourself and falling for him like the rest of them.

Silly little bunny, you’d give in soon enough.

So imagine his surprise when he silently walks into the next room to find you there, hand trembling against your neck as you watch a man sloppily eat a woman’s pussy, teeth biting your lower lip to stop any noise from coming out of your mouth.

His naughty little minx, getting off by watching other people fuck. He was impressed.

Bucky wouldn’t have pegged you as a little voyeur. He can’t say he’s disappointed though.

It’s times like this where Bucky praises his super hearing from the serum, low chatter from the upper floor has him pulled out of his thoughts of you and sneaking a glance up to see a middle aged man leaning over the open plan railing and looking directly out at you. Maxwell.

Fuck, he was onto you.

Options speed through Bucky's head as he quickly concocts a plan to kill two birds with one stone. Throwing the target off your scent and getting to have some fun with you.

Time to play, babydoll.

Glued to the scene in front of you, your surroundings blur, mission forgotten as you focus on the sounds of the woman’s sloppy wet cunt, obscene squelching from the man’s thick fingers that fuck her pussy and her juices spraying out.

All the more reason for the loud gasp that escapes you as a cold hard hand wraps around your throat and drags you back into a firm chest, the whir of fingers squeezing the sides to slightly cut off your airway. Warm breath tickling the curve of your neck as electricity shoots through your body.

“Who’d have thought a stuck up little bitch like you enjoys something as dirty as this, huh?”

Shit.

“You’re a filthy fuckin’ slut, you know that baby? Y’know how disgusting you are getting off on this?” You can’t help crossing your legs to try and create some friction to ease the ache in your cunt and the needy whimpers that echo across the room even with Bucky's hand choking you - blending with the slick noise of the woman’s wet pussy on the sofa.

You weren't banking on your mission partner catching you in the devious act, anxiety bleeding over you as he finds out how shameless you are and how much you want him.

A large number of the growing crowd have turned to watch the display of you and Bucky. Humiliation washing over you from his degradation and how exposed you feel.

Bucky hadn’t felt this horny for as long as he could remember, his hard cock straining against his trousers over how much he’s enjoying turning you to putty in his hands for everyone to see.

You’re mine, little bunny. Even if everyone can see the dumb fucked out mess I’ve reduced you to.

“C’mon dollface, you’re normally so feisty, where’s them claws you like to scratch me with, kitten?”

His condescending words only cease to turn you into a bigger puddle, unable to get your words out without moaning or stuttering, “B-bucky, p-please.”

Even though Bucky wants to hold out longer, he can’t help but bring his other arm up from his firm hold on your waist up to your tits, toying with your peaked nippes over your dress.

Somehow, the little shit knew they were sensitive.

His grip on your throat moves up to hold your jaw, making sure you’re still watching the other couple play as he tweaks your nippes, rubbing his thumb over them and squeezing your tits. He fucking loved it. The broken moans you no longer care to keep down break free as drool drips down your chin.

You didn't think you could like being spoken to the way Bucky does, his harsh words but soothing tone has your head fuzzy and your mind empty, no coherent thoughts other than the man behind you.

Your ass rubs back onto Bucky’s crotch as you squirm in his hold, the throaty rumble he lets out only worsening the throb of your cunt.

“Y’know they kinda look like us don’t ya think, bunny baby? Is that what has you so fuckin’ gone, huh? You wanna know how good I’d eat your pretty little pussy?” He starts to grind his cock into the curve of your ass, the thin material of your dress leaving no guesses to how thick he really is.

It’s helpless as your head flops back onto Bucky's shoulder, boneless in his arms. You’ve forgotten about everyone else in the room with you, only enough room in your head to process who’s making you feel so good.

The tingling of your swollen clit has you wailing needy moans, the lack of stimulation edging you and forcing tears from your eyes.

“Oh dollface, you’re crying now? You need me to make all those tingles go away?”

You couldn’t nod your head fast enough, dragging his hand to place it over your soaked panties under your dress with pleas whispered against his neck. He’d punish you for that in normal circumstances, but right now he really wants to see you cum.

His warm fingers gently start rubbing your pulsing clit, the added friction of your lace underwear making your eyes roll to the back of your head and high pitched whimpers to fill the room. Gyrating your hips to follow his motion, you can feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter, so close to that release you’re internally begging for.

“You’re so fuckin’ desperate, bunny, my cocks rock fuckin’ solid for ya, bet you could take this fat cock in your tight little cunt.”

You can feel the brink of your orgasm on the precipice from his words, his Brooklyn accent spilling through as he continues to rub his huge cock against your back.

But it’s the switch from rubbing to repeatedly tapping your bundle of nerves as he licks the trail of sweat from your neck to groan in your ear that makes you finally let go.

“Now, fuckin’ cum for me before I leave your pathetic ass begging for me.”

Your legs give out as you suck lungfuls of air back in, eyes cross eyed as you see stars from how powerful your orgasm is. You don’t think you’ve ever cum that hard before in your life, and you’d crawl to Bucky on all fours to beg for it again.

Eventually, your high slowly descends and you come back down to earth, body limp but twitching with spasms. Should you even try to take a step forward you know you’d fall flat on your face, so you're grateful for Bucky keeping a tight embrace around you and cooing shushes into your ear as you muster a fucked out smile on your face.

You don’t care to see if anyone’s still around, if the couple that turned you on and got you into this state in the first place are still going at it.

Bucky, however, takes a peak back up to Maxwell, knowing he’d watched the whole show and his worries had been reassured by your brazen display that you weren’t suspicious. He catches the back of his coat, walking down the steps and into a back room.

The smirk grows back on his face as he takes one hand away from your body, your whine of displeasure all the more satisfying for what comes next, he won’t be able to see your face but that’s okay - he’s more than happy to feel your reaction instead.

Sucking his fingers from your juices that are still running down your leg, he presses the button on the com to send an update on status to backup and Steve.

“Target's position secured. Distraction followed through and on route to prepare for arrest, over.”

Your eyes rip open from your hazy daydream as you soak in Bucky’s update to the rest of the team. Blood running cold when it finally processes his motive for your little show.

“My my little bunny, I gotta say I’m impressed you folded so easily for lil’ old me.” Bucky’s murmur against your head vibrates through your entire being, but you can’t bring yourself to move an inch.

His chuckle has fury bubbling up to the surface, yet you’re speechless as he leaves a gentle kiss to your temple and departs with his final words.

“Didn’t know you were a squirter either, doll. I had fun, looking forward to the next time too. But let’s go catch Maxwell for now, yeah? I’ll even keep hush of your unprofessionalism on the job.”

You can only stare as he strolls towards the back room where you can only assume Maxwell is, whistling a tune to himself as he tucks his hands in his pockets, uncaring to the salacious acts of sex still occurring around you.

You’re so fucked.

A/N: I have to thank my angel baby @rookthorne for the inspiration in writing this after one of our little domme sessions 👀 loves you so much kotenok 💗 thank you for reading lovelies!!