#cotton x adonis

[itsroxyrose]

Kiss, kiss, fall in love!

I randomly got obsessed with making edits of my OCs in random shows and movies so enjoy some Cotton X Adonis (who we have officially chosen the ship name “Lavender Haze” for) yaoi edits LMAO the top one is their canon design and the next 2 are CandiiCotton’s Dreamscape where they’re separate and surreal things happen.

Adonis Prince belongs to @mistyjessart and CandiiCotton belongs partially to @exesaturated (they are 2 trolls in one body, their OC, Candii, is the pink half)

[readyforthegarden]

30 Minutes or Less

A continuation of Adonis and Angel's relationship since their first meetup.

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, slightly rough sex, roleplay, Danny being an absolute demon in the most delicious way 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI!!!

♥️♥️♥️

Friday nights were usually date nights for you and Danny. Ever since you two met up, your Adonis had swept you off your feet, and your relationship quickly fell into place. It should have felt rushed, too fast and startling, the way your sleepovers turned into duffle bags filled with a weeks worth of clothes, until finally your lease was up and Danny offered for you to live with him. There wasn’t a moment of hesitancy between you two, and that weekend, he was driving you insane in a tank top cut to the hem on the sides, driving a UHaul with all of your belongings to his house, that damn backwards baseball cap keeping his curls from tangling in the wind coming in the open window.

Since then you both tried to establish nights to spend together. He’d gotten a new job at a music studio, playing fill-in instruments for various artists coming through and recording, and trying his hand at producing. You had been in awe of his talents, his home filled with instruments, a drum kit in the basement, a wall of guitars with a mandolin in between, a small piano and keyboard sat on the opposite side of the basement. It amazed you how he could walk up to an instrument and play it without a thought. 

Tonight was Friday night date night, and you were perched on the couch in a pair of soft cotton shorts and a cropped tank top, watching trash tv to pass the time. 

Your phone rang, and you paused the show you were watching, picking it up and tapping on the answer button, seeing Danny’s face pop up, illuminated by the studio parking lot lights as he sat in his car. 

“Hi baby!” you grinned watching him smile as he heard your voice.

“Hi to you too, angel.” his crooked smile still made your heart swoon. “I’m on my way home, I’m sorry I’m running a little later than usual. Date night is gonna be a little lame this week.” 

“It’s okay, I waited for you for dinner, do you want to pick something up on your way home?” Danny nodded, stretching out in his seat after he placed his phone on the magnetic holder.

“Yeah, do you have anything in mind?” you pursed your lips, and thought on it. 

“Ooh, you know what? Pizza sounds really good right now.”

“From that place on 6th street or the one by our house?” 

“You know I’m thinking from the place on 6th. Extra mushrooms, extra cheese.” Danny laughed, nodding again. 

“Okay, if you call it in I’ll pick it up for us.” you giggled, noting his backward cap and speaking before thinking.

“Aww, and you look like a delivery guy too, with your hat. My own personal pizza delivery boy.” It took a second for it to register with Danny, and then you saw it, a spark of Adonis that flickered in his eyes from time to time. 

“Yeah? Will I get a good tip if I make it home in thirty minutes or less?” his voice was low, and he leaned in closer to the phone. You had gotten more bold since being with Danny, working off him to rile him up when he got like this.

“I don’t know, I don’t have very much money,” you feigned a sad, innocent look, batting your eyelashes. “I’m sure we could work something out.” You angled the phone down, showing him the low cut crop top you’d been hanging around the house in, squeezing your arms to your chest so your breasts nearly spilled out the neckline.

“Shit,” Danny sighed. “Order the pizza, now. I’m on my way.” you giggled as you watched him adjust himself with one hand, hanging up with the other and you called in the pizza order. Once that was placed, you jumped up, running to the bedroom where your vanity waited. You took a small reusable makeup removing pad, wiping under your eyes with it making sure any mascara that had ran through your day was washed away. 

After reapplying your mascara and running your tube of lip balm over your lips quickly. Running to the bathroom, you flipped on the light, running a brush through your hair and fluffing it up, before running back to the bedroom, grabbing your favorite perfume and spritzing your neck, wrists, the backs of your knees, and your ankles with it. You checked your phone, only ten more minute before Danny would come screeching into the driveway. You quickly shimmied your shorts down, changing out of your regular panties and started digging through your drawer, trying to find that one lacy pair that drove him wild. 

Once you’d found them, you slipped them on and pulled your shorts up over them, before scurrying out to the couch, posing to look like you did absolutely nothing since getting off the phone with him. You unpaused your show, but couldn’t pay attention. You kept your ears focused for the sound of Danny pulling into the drive, the lights of every passing car making your heart thump out of your chest with anticipation. You were able to distract yourself, finally starting to pay attention to the show on the television. For how long, you weren’t sure, but just as an argument started riling up, a knock sounded at the front door, startling you. 

You furrowed your brow, opening the door to see Danny standing there, pizza box balanced on his open palm. He was still wearing the backward ball cap, and his crooked smile still made your heart flip.

“Hey, I have a delivery for this address?” Danny smirked. Catching on quick, you leaned against the doorframe.

“Oh yeah, I ordered that, about twenty minutes ago.” you replied.

“Awesome, that’ll be $18.75.” Danny replied, holding his other hand out. Biting your bottom lip, you batted your lashes at him as he looked at you expectantly.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” you pretended to pat yourself down, giving a little shrug. “I don’t have any cash on me.”

“Oh,” Danny let his hand fall, his eyes raking up and down your body. 

“You drove all this way, and I’m really hungry…” you began. “Why don’t you come inside, and we can work something out.” Danny’s eyes flickered again and you opened the door, letting him inside. Once the door was closed, you led him into the kitchen, gesturing for him to place the pizza on the counter. 

“So, what did you have in mind for payment?” Danny asked, looking around the room. You moved to stand in front of him, placing your hand on his chest, feeling him flex the muscles of his pecs under his shirt. You glanced up at him through your lashes, smirking. 

“I was wondering if we could exchange favors?” your voice lowered slightly, a sultry tone exuding as you felt his breath quicken under your hand. “You give me the pizza for free, and I give you the best blowjob you’ve ever had.” Danny’s eyebrow quirked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“I don’t know, my boss will be pretty pissed if I don’t bring back the cash.” you let your hand travel down his torso, your fingertips resting at the top of his belt buckle, tapping the metal with the tip of your fingernails. You kept eye contact with him as you moved past it, cupping his growing erection through the denim of his jeans.

“Feels like you’d rather stay,” you hummed, leaning in and bumping the tip of his nose with yours, bringing your lips close enough to just graze his, teasing Danny with a kiss you knew he was dying to have after not seeing you all day. Palming him a little rougher, you spoke again as you felt his bulge grow harder in your hand. “I promise the tip will be worth it.”

“O-Okay,” not being sure if it was your Adonis staying in character or that you had really startled him, you smiled, slowly undoing his belt buckle as you finally gave into him and gave him the kiss he was longing for. One of his hands came up behind your head, holding your lips in place as he took his fill of them, waiting until you were at the point of tugging down his jeans and boxer briefs. 

When he let you go, you slowly sank to your knees on the kitchen floor, gently taking his long cock in your hand. Leaning forward, you flattened your tongue, giving the underside a long, soft lick before teasing the head with the tip of your tongue, circling around the edge. Giving small kitten licks just under the head, you heard Danny breathe out slowly. You were lucky in the fact that Danny seemed to be a giver in the bedroom, and you knew it was taking a lot for him to let you switch roles.

Torturously working your mouth over him, you tried to take all of him, tears stinging your eyes as you held back a small gagging reflex as he hit the back of your throat. One of Danny’s large hands rested softly on the top of your head, fingers twitching in your hair as you hollowed out your cheeks, the other held his shirt flat against his stomach, making sure the soft cotton didn’t obstruct his view of you. Swallowing around him, you heard him suck in a sharp breath, letting out a quiet moan, his fingers on your head starting to massage your scalp while his hand helped push you forward while you bobbed.

“Shit, that feels good,” he sighed. You felt yourself swell with pride at his praise, letting your tongue trace the vein running along the underside of his cock, flicking the tip just under the head before continuing your motions. Danny’s hand left his stomach, reaching out and grabbing the edge of the kitchen counter next to him, leaning on it to stay upright as his breathing picked up. You used one of your hands to stroke what your mouth couldn’t fully take between deep throated swallows, the other came up to cup his balls, massaging them and feeling them begin to tighten in your palm. You took him in your mouth one more time, down to the base, the tip of your nose being tickled by the curly, coarse hairs on his pelvis. 

Danny’s hand left the counter, coming to join the other on your head, holding you in that position for a few seconds before he gently thrust his hips before pulling your head off of him. You looked up at him, mouth open and unashamedly letting a string of spit dangle between your bottom lip and the tip of his cock. Leaning forward, you pressed your wet lips to the tip, giving it a kiss before licking the beading pre-cum from it and licking it off your lips. 

His hands fell from your head, one coming under your chin and tugging you up from your knees, so you were standing in front of him. He brought your lips to his, licking across them before finally pressing against yours, his other hand tugging down your cotton shorts and feeling the lace you’d hidden beneath them.

“I have a feeling you were planning this all along.” Danny smirked against your mouth, his thick fingers rubbing against your soaked through panties, making you him. His thumb still rested on your chin, swiping against your bottom lip. “You’re so wet, it would be a shame for me to leave you like this.”

“Please,” you whispered, leaning into his body. Danny smirked down at you before backing up, giving you space and making you feel cold.

“Get on the counter.” Danny commanded, Adonis appearing in his eyes again, needing control. You hesitated for a moment, but jumped up onto the cold granite a shiver running down your spine as your warm skin made contact. Danny sauntered his way over to you, caging you in-between his arms as he sealed your lips with a kiss. “How about I taste that pretty pussy of yours before I really get my money’s worth?”

Your knees rested against Danny’s sides as you nodded and he pushed up your cropped tank top above your breasts, immediately cupping them, swiping his thumbs across your already pebbled nipples. His callused fingertips always applied just the right pressure to make you crave more and more from him, and you were on the verge of begging when he leaned down, taking your left nipple into his mouth. Your head leaned back, knocking into the cabinet and making the dishes inside shake. You let out a soft laugh, and you could feel Danny break against your skin, a chuckle vibrating against you.

He sucked softly on your swollen bud, twirling his tongue around it while his other hand rolled your right one before his thumb and forefinger, pinching softly. Your back arched while tingling shot down between your legs, and you felt yourself getting wetter.  Your hips wriggled against the counter as Danny switched his mouths attention to your right breast. The heat between your thighs felt like it was getting hotter and hotter, and you could feel your pussy start to pulse. 

Danny let his hands take your waist, holding you steady as his lips moved to the valley between your breasts, slowly kissing down your body. Smirking at how eager you were, already shifting to try and bring your body closer to his face. Danny removed his hands from your waist for a moment, lowering himself and wrapping his arms around your legs, grabbing your hips and balancing you precariously on the edge of the counter. 

“Baby, you are positively glistening for me.” he breathed, looking up at you through his lashes.  “Makes me think you’ve had this fantasy before.” he pressed soft kisses along your inner thighs, nipping gently at the skin as he got closer.

“Stop teasing, please,” you whined, gripping the edge of the counter as he licked his lips, adjusting your legs over his shoulders.

“As you wish,” Danny delved between your thighs, a moan spilling from you as his mouth expertly lapped against your wet pussy. One of your hands moved to rest on top of his head, the backward baseball cap still there. You raked your nails against the material, the scratch sound music to your ears as the sounds of Danny’s mouth on you echoed in the kitchen. He clasped his lips around your clit, suckling it while running his tongue around it in quick circles.

His name fell from your lips, you didn’t care about the role-play anymore, you just wanted to praise the man for his talents in making you unravel. Danny moved between your sucking and circling your clit and leaving hot, open mouthed kisses against you. One of his hands left your thighs, his thick fingertips tracing along your folds, gently prodding and teasing you as you started clenching around nothing. After letting you whine and rock your hips, grinning into your pussy all the while, he slid in his middle and ring fingers inside you, finally relieving the ache between your thighs. 

Danny moved his other hand to your pelvis, holding your body down as you rocked against his hand and face.

“You’re gonna slip off if you keep shimmying like that,” Danny gasped, pulling away from your pussy, looking up at you. From the tip of his nose to the end of his chin, his face was glistening with your juices, a sight that made you feel even more ravenous than before. “Stay still for me.” you nodded, guiding his head back to your clit, moaning again as he took it back in his mouth. He picked up the pace with his tongue, circling your clit and applying just the right pressure as he quickened the pistoning motion with his hand. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep your promise to stay still, and Danny could tell by the shaking in your thighs on his shoulders that you were getting close. You felt the fire in your stomach ignite and spread through your veins as your fingers clawed at the granite below you and the fabric of his hat.

“Fuck!” you gasped, your body tensing as you came, Danny continuing to work you over as you rode out your orgasm, panting and still clawing at him. When your body relaxed, Danny pulled away bringing his hand up to his lips, sucking them clean while staring you down and stepping out of his pants and boxer briefs.

You were slumped against the cabinets, but not for too long, as Danny had slid his arms under you and moved you to the living room. You couldn’t help but lean up and kiss him as he walked carefully, tasting yourself on him and moaning.

“You tasted so good baby,” Danny hummed as he placed your feet on the floor by the arm of the couch. He cupped your face in his large hand, the other holding you up. “Felt so good on my fingers, squeezing so tight.” Danny turned you around, bending you over the arm of the couch. Your face rested on a small couch pillow, and you could feel Danny’s hands rubbing up and down the globes of your ass.

Not being able to help yourself, you wiggled your ass in front of him, making him chuckle.

“Eager, are we?”

“Yes, I need to feel you,” you whined, near-panting already. “Please, fuck me already!” Danny gripped your ass cheeks hard and slapped on, sending a jolt through you as you felt him like himself up behind you, running the tip of his hard cock through your folds, collecting the wetness there. Whimpers were falling from your open mouth as he teased the head in before pulling away, coming back and pushing in again and then pulling completely away. “Dammit Danny!”

As soon as the curse in his name flew out of your mouth, he roughly slid into you, jolting you again and making you cry out. Danny wasted no time in building you up, his thrusts hard and fast, the slapping of your skin echoing throughout the house, almost being drowned out by your moans. You were reaching back behind you, clawing to touch some part of him when one of his large hands gathered both your wrists, tugging your upper body up. The new angle hit your sweet spot, a new fresh string of curses tumbling from your mouth as Danny continued ramming into you, primal grunts spilling from his own.

“Fuck that feels so good Danny,” you gasped, the words stuttering out as your body was jostled by his movements. You couldn’t help but relish the delicious drag of his cock inside you as he pulled out and pushed back in over and over, it was something you’d never forget.

“Yeah baby?” Danny grunted out. “Gonna come all over my cock? Make this delivery worth it?” Leave it to him to still keep up at least a glimmer of the roleplay you had long forgotten.

“Yeah,” you panted, “M-make it so-so worth it!” You could feel the coil in your abdomen tightening again, you face flushing as you came to the edge. Your fingers curled, latching onto whatever they could of Danny’s hand, something to anchor yourself as your second climax crashed over you. Danny let go of your wrists but was quick to wrap his arms around your chest and torso, hands squeezing your tits as he put his lips to your ear.

“There’s my beautiful Angel,” he whispered lowly, between harsh breaths. “That’s my good girl.”

“Your good girl,” you agreed, bringing a hand up and tangling in his curls, finally knocking the hat off his head. “Taking your cock so well,” Danny’s hips began to falter as you talked back, and he squeezed you tight to his body as he spilled into you, pressing kisses along your cheek, neck, and shoulder. You let your head fall back, resting on his own broad shoulder, both of you catching your breath.

“S’pose we should go shower.” Danny whispered after a few moments. Your bodies were tacky from drying sweat and made a noise as he gently peeled away from you.

“Yeah, the pizza is already cold anyway.” you laughed softly. Danny turned you around, grinning at you as he cupped your face, his one arm still holding you up.

“Would you mind if the delivery boy stayed and grabbed a slice? I worked up quite the appetite.”

“Not at all,” you smirked, hopping up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. “Consider it your tip.”

♥️♥️♥️

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[sleepingdeath-light]

apologise ; 18+

requested by ; someone on wattpad (my first ever request for sweet seduction, but rewritten)

word count ; 4051

content ; sexually explicit content, clothed grinding, hand job (male receiving)

fandom ; black butler

pairing ; finnian x cis female reader

read also on ; ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

Though you'd only been employed at the prestigious Phantomhive estate for a short few months, it had been more than enough time to get a grasp on how your colleagues functioned as individuals and as a collective. A well oiled machine manned by the head butler, Mr Sebastian, and under the complete jurisdiction of the young lord — a lad you'd only met once and would much prefer to avoid.

There was just something so... haunting... about him. Something far too old and pained in his eye for someone so young.

So you opted to minimise any direct interaction with your employer, instead focusing your time and attention on the other servants of the manor when possible. Of course this meant spending many a morning conversing with Mr Sebastian, whose company you'd come to appreciate, but it was much more than just professional small talk spoken between daily rounds.

It was quiet mornings spent with Meyrin walking down the labyrinthine hallways of the manor, arms filled with laundry and heads tipped back with lilting laughter as you joked and teased and gossiped your way through your chores. It was busy afternoons spent chasing after Baldroy with a bucket and broom, your faces smeared with gunpowder and your sides aching with bitten back giggles as you try to repair whatever damage his latest cooking scheme had done to the servants' quarter of the estate. It was evenings spent on your knees, feeling blindly under tables and beds and chairs, bare fingertips brushing against soft carpets like clumsy spider's legs as you sought out one of Snake's more rebellious companions — their name on your lips and a dozen voices sprouting from his own.

It was late nights spent awake until your eyelids were too heavy to keep open and your brain too fuzzy to think. Thinking and fantasising until your skin was burning and covered in gooseflesh, until you were clamping your hands over your mouth and giggling like a child. Mind racing as you recalled each and every interaction, minor and major alike, with the estate's gardener; Finnian.

Finny, with eyes so lush and green that Mother Nature herself envies them. Finny, with hair as soft and fluffy as cotton, it's colour spun gold and so pure that the very sun he works under all day admires it. Finny, with a smile so cheery and bright despite all he's gone through, the picture of purity and beauty — an adorable Adonis who stole the breath from your lungs and whose voice struck the match that set your flustered flesh ablaze. Finny, who you adored but could never bring yourself to speak to without making a complete and utter fool of yourself.

That Finny. Oh how much you longed to trade places with the flowerbeds, whose petals he touched with a gentleness unmatched, humming and smiling as he diligently tended to each and every stem and bud. You were sure that they only bloomed so bright because of him — as you felt yourself growing more jovial and alive in his presence so surely they must feel the same way too.

But, still, you could never quite bring yourself to voice such feelings to him. Always falling just shy of confessing as the words died on your tongue like soldiers at war or flowers in a meadow, overrun with the weeds of doubt that stole the confidence from their very roots and left you floundering in awkward silence before you finally — inevitably — gave in and retreated. Another loss for the books.

One of many. You were never really cut out for war, it seemed.

Though today you weren't given the option to flee and hide, because you were the staff's last option and failure on your behalf could disrupt the entire system of the estate. A misspoken word snowballing into raised voices, tools with their mixed metal and wooden parts snapped like toothpicks, tearful glares and a deep canyon of trauma and anger whose broad gap you had to bridge.

Meyrin had been the one to start the whole thing in the first place, a comment about cages and experimentation in a new book she'd been reading having sent Finny into a tearful rage. She didn't want to risk making things worse, having disqualified herself and come to you all for aid.

Bard had tried, but he'd fallen just short of the finish line by making a poorly timed reference to a bird. That had only sent him into another round of hysterics.

Sebastian had tried, but he'd been far too stern and had only agitated Finny further, nearly causing him to lash out and attack. He'd retreated and gone back to his other duties to let him calm down.

Snake and Tanaka were out of the estate, and the young lord was far too ill to get out of bed. So they were out of the running.

That only left you, and you hoped beyond hope that your perpetually tied tongue would loosen itself from the anxious knot it so often found itself in just enough to help your dear friend. To let you find the words you needed rather than leave you spouting pure stammering gibberish as it had so often in the past.

Hoping that that hope was enough.

————

Waiting for Finny to answer you through the greenhouse doors felt like waiting to be hung; stood anxious at the gallows with your eyes trained on your cheap heels and your breath caught in your throat as you counted the seconds. One then two then three and so on, each microsecond spreading onwards for eternity in your own mind, in the silence, until a scratchy, raw voice called out — its tone startlingly, yet not entirely unexpectedly, harsh.

'Who is it?'

You wetted your lips for a moment before responding, calling out your name.

'I told them I wanted to be left alone,' stern and unwavering, so very unlike himself.

'Well, yes, but I — we — just wanted to check that you were okay,' when he didn't respond you continued, speeding up as your words became more disjointed and jumbled, 'Mey said you were really upset and you know she didn't mean to upset you. She just misspoke, you know how often she says silly things. And when you ran off she was terrified and we're all really worried about you and,'

'I said I want to be left alone,'

Cold and harsh and certain and low. Yet his voice still cracked with what were surely tears and you felt your heart break for him.

'Finny, please, let me h-'

An echoing slam, deep as thunder in a raging storm, rang out through the large building, cracking the upper panel of the door beside your hand. Causing you to flinch away and cower in on yourself as a final shout followed.

'Leave me alone!'

And then deathly, painful, infectious silence.

As loud as thunder and as quiet as the grave all at once; heavy with the implications of what remained unsaid whilst you remained frozen in place, staring through the cracked panel at the distorted, quivering silhouette on the other side. You were so close that you could hear the tremble in his voice and his sobs despite his best efforts to hide them — despite him burying his face in his hands and huddling in on himself. He was more scared than angry, so you swallowed down your own anxiety and grounded yourself.

Then, after taking a few deep breaths, you wrapped your hand around the handle and pushed it down. The click echoing off of the tall glass walls as you stepped into the sweltering room and carefully closed the door behind you.

No going back now.

————

You took a tentative step forward. And then another and another; carefully inching your way towards Finny's trembling figure whilst skilfully avoiding the spilled, cracked plant pot shards that now decorated the tiled floor. The soft clicking of your heels and the soft scratch of clay against porcelain filling the otherwise silent room and overpowering the soft sniffles and sobs coming from the man in front of you — until you came to a halt a few inches in front of him and crouched down to his level.

‘Hey…’

‘Go away,’

‘Finny,’ you sighed, placing a hand on his knee and gently squeezing once, then twice, ‘I promise that I don’t mean you any harm. I just want to help you — we all do. So will you please listen to what I have to say? Just a little bit?’

Your prodding earned you a small victory — him shifting around enough to be able to look at you over his knees — but small was still better than nothing so you celebrated whatever progress you could make.

‘Thank you,’ you smiled at him and he looked away, ‘now as I was saying; Mey feels terrible about what happened and wants to make amends with you, if you’ll allow it. She’s the one that came and got us to talk to you — it’s why Bard and Mr Sebastian and I have all stopped by. We — I — care about you and I want to help you out, but I can’t do that if you don’t let me help you,’

You could see more tears start to well up in his eyes and panicked slightly, brain running a mile a minute to try and come up with something — anything — that could help make this situation better only to keep coming back with nothing. Leaving you gaping like a fish out of water, completely at a loss as you sought out any sort of solution.

So completely and utterly caught up in your inner turmoil that you didn’t notice Finny shifting again until he’d already launched himself forwards and tackled you to the ground in a tearful, almost bone-crushing, hug.

————

The moment you hit the floor you froze, unable to even react when the apologies started falling from his lips and the salt of his tears dripped down and gathered in the dips of your collarbone. Mind racing so fast that your body was unable to catch up, just barely processing the sting of your back as it started to fade and registering the weight of his body atop your own as he obliviously settled between your legs — pressing his crotch against your own as he tearily begged for your forgiveness.

But once you finally regained your bearings, you were quick to comfort him — raising yourself up on your elbows and moving to brush some fly-away hairs out of his face. Shushing him and whispering reassurances whilst caressing the sides of his face and brushing away his tears with a feather light touch. A few dozen 'it's okay's and 'I believe you's and 'I've got you's coming from your bitten lips as easily as breath — your tone sweet and genuine but no less firm for it, grounding him bit by bit with your repetitions until he was no longer sobbing and clinging to you like you’d scatter like pollen in the wind once he let go.

But the moment he pulled away enough to look you in the eyes, soft lips quivering and forest green eyes fretful and wet, whatever confidence you’d managed to scrape together was washed away — leaving your mind scattered and lost like a well-worn ship at sea. Grasping for some semblance of coherency as you faltered and floundered and flustered under that wide-eyed, gemstone gaze — stammering and stuttering and tripping over your knotted tongue until you finally managed to blurt out something.

‘You’re beautiful,’

Finny faltered under your unexpected praise, doe eyes widening a fraction as a wave of blushing, startled pink slowly spread up from his collarbone to his cheeks. He swallowed and your eyes flicked down to watch his Adam’s Apple bob up and down — had your throat always been this dry? — before he offered a response that was closer to a squeak than a question.

‘What?’

For a split second you considered backing out and backing down. Contemplated spewing a hundred excuses that felt a thousand times more hollow than the cracked cocoons he’d brought in from the garden earlier that week and that burned the tongue more than the fire that was blazing just beneath the skin of your face and throat. Lying to his face and fleeing, going back to the manor and asking Meyrin to just bite the bullet and apologise…

But you didn’t.

‘I… I said that you’re beautiful, Finny,’ god it felt good to finally say that out loud, relief flooding your veins even as your hands trembled as they touched his burning cheek and as your heart beat so loudly that you could barely hear yourself think.

‘You-You really think that?’

Green eyes — greener than the flourishing plants to which he tended, greener than the perfectly polished gemstones that decorated the themed jewellery worn by the young madam for the summer gala, greener than anything you’d ever seen — glinted with a sort of hope that you couldn’t quite place, clouded with a hesitance you knew all too well and yet still shining brightly through it all.

‘Of course I do!’ You responded firmly, shocked by your own sureness as you coughed into your fist and continued in something just above a whisper, averting your eyes to a suddenly very interesting fraction of plant pot as you spoke. ‘I always have,’

He was silent for a few moments and you felt your heart sink, blood pumping deafeningly in your ears as you started to panic. Thoughts of losing any chance to be with him, of losing your job, of losing your place all buzzing around your mind like a malicious storm — tears welling up in your eyes as it all became too much. Too much. Too much.

But then you felt a work calloused hand on the side of your face — rough thumb wiping away your shed tears with an unmatched gentleness and it all stopped. Silence, once again, until you finally turned your head and received a wordless acceptance of your confession.

A kiss so harsh and passionate that it sent you crashing back down onto the tiled floor — your own hands flying up to bury themselves in his hair as he deepened the kiss. Your lips parted in a startled gasp, which was eagerly swallowed by Finny’s soft lips and before long you found yourself lost in the moment: tilting your head in time with his own, experimentally gliding your tongue along his and delighting in the way you felt him shiver and groan, carding your hands through his messy blond hair and relishing in the way you felt him melt into you even further. Loved and loving and messy and passionate but pure.

Pure until he lent forwards in just the right way and pressed his crotch directly down against your already wet sex — the scratchy material of his uniform catching on the smooth cotton of your drawers to create a sinful combination of sensations that immediately coaxed a moan from your throat. A sound that sent a shockwave of heat straight to his own centre as you felt him starting to harden against your sex.

A sound that he swallowed just as eagerly as before until his mind caught up with his body and he realised just what had happened. Mortified, then, he started to pull away — the motion causing his length to brush against your slit once again and coaxing a fresh moan from you that had him reddening further — apologies already forming on the tip of his tongue and fretful tears brimming in his eyes as he went to speak. Though before he was able to get a word out, he was swiftly interrupted by your breathy plea and your soft hands gently tugging him back down, offering him an opportunity that had him letting out a whimper of his own.

‘Please, Finny, don’t stop,’

And, thankfully, he didn’t.

————

You were clumsy at first — both of you were — jittery with nerves and jerky with inexperience but still somehow able to make it work as you settled into something resembling an actual rhythm. Wrapping your stocking-clad legs around his waist and pulling him down against you whilst he ground his hips against yours — clothed erection hard and throbbing as it rubbed against your needy pussy, creating a delicious sort of friction that had you soaking through your undergarments far quicker than you'd like to admit. So wet that you were sure that you were starting to dampen the outside of his trousers, but if he felt anything he never made a point to mention it.

It was fast and rough and messy, your mutual desperation for release and for each other bleeding into your every action like water trickling from a stream to the sea. Clear as crystal through the way you arched your back up into his chest and one of those wonderfully gentle hands immediately wrapped around and beneath you to pull you closer to him. Apparent in the way neither of you made any effort to break the kiss, only separating by the merest of millimetres every few moments to catch your breath before diving forwards once again; lips and chins and cheeks smeared with saliva as you moaned and groaned and whimpered against each other, utterly oblivious (or, perhaps, apathetic) of the mess you'd made of yourselves. Obvious in the way that you moved against and with each other: circular grinding, bucking in tandem, downwards thrusts and so on — chasing those individual highs together as you held each other tighter and tighter and tighter.

Tighter until you could barely breath and it still wasn't enough. Though, by now, in the state you were in, even becoming one wouldn't be close enough — you just needed him. Needed his hands on your body, his lips on your own and you needed to make him feel good.

To make him moan and whine and gasp and say your name in that light and airy voice of his again and again and again. The need to pleasure him overwhelming what remained of your coherent mind until you were unable to stand it anymore and finally let yourself give in to that impulse.

Ever so slowly you started to inch your hand lower and lower between your bodies, cautiously palming his hard cock through the scratchy fabric of his uniform — coaxing a deep moan from the base of his throat that sent another wave of pleasure straight to your core. Then, after a short while of slow, gentle groping, you finally built up the confidence to reach into his trousers and wrap your soft hand around his throbbing dick — moaning at the feeling of its weight in your palm as you started to clumsily jerk him off.

Slowly — slowly — you traced your loose fist along his length, fisting from twitching base to swollen tip once, then twice, and again and again and again. Settling into a comfortable rhythm that had his hips bucking into your hand and him moaning and groaning against your lips — sounds and actions so erotic that you couldn't help but start to grind up against him in return, seeking stimulation for your throbbing, needy cunt. Aching for his dick, so painfully thick that you could already anticipate the stretch that would happen once he was finally inside of you; the mouthwatering sting that you were already craving through the lustful, heavy fog of your mind.

Though what few coherent thoughts you managed to scrape together soon dissipated once Finny broke the kiss and leaned downwards to press his lips to the underside of your jaw. Stealing your awareness and your breath with every peck of his addictively soft lips against your skin as he trailed kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat, over your pulse point and down further to your collarbone before making his way back upwards. A rhythm all of his own that had you panting and whimpering and moaning — one hand in his hair and the other still wrapped around his throbbing length.

As moments turned to seconds turned to minutes you lost yourself to the feeling of his lips and hands on your body — all trails of thought leading back to him: his clothed cock grinding against your sodden panties, creating a delicious friction that drove you closer to the edge with every buck and grind; his soft lips, gentle still in spite of everything he was made to be, which he lovingly trailed along the arc of your neck and which curved handsomely upwards when your pulse jumped beneath his feather-light touch; his warm, work-rough hands, which held onto you with a strength and tenderness that had your pussy aching and that nervously massaged your breasts with an uncertainness that you were near-certain was reflected in your own clumsy ministrations.

The humid air of the conservatory mixed with the flustered flame burning beneath your own skin to create a cocktail of sweat and slick and precum that soiled your work clothes and cling to your skin in a way that you'd have hated had you been in the mind to recognise it. Though both of you were too far gone to even acknowledge the world beyond yourselves — beyond the hot skin, the soft mouths, the grinding of sex on sex only kept modest by the thinnest layers of cloth, the moans and groans and whimpers and sighs — everything else having faded away the moment that his clothed cock brushed against your needy, covered cunt all those minutes ago.

Then all at once something snaps. Finny's pace stutters and jerks as he lets out a sound somewhere between a sob and a whimper against the crook of your neck — hot, throbbing dick spurting his release in waves that cover your hand and soak into his trousers. Whining and sobbing as he presses his shaking hips harshly downwards, button catching against your neglected clit in a single, rough brushing of drenched cotton against plaid that had you falling over the edge of climax mere moments later.

It was all you wanted it to be and so much more: your vision was invaded with flashing blurs of white, stark as fireworks on a clear and moonless night as they clung stubbornly to the insides of your eyelids; your thighs and pussy and underwear were soaked through with your slick, wetness gushing out unbidden until you were coated so thoroughly that you couldn’t even move without noticing it’s cool and lewd presence on your gooseflesh-ridden skin; your heart was pounding madly, so loud and quick that your hearing was overwhelmed with the sound of the blood rushing in your ears that you could barely even hear yourself moaning and whining and groaning and panting; your limbs were trembling so badly that if it weren’t for Finny’s unrelenting grip that you were sure you’d have collapsed into a pleasure-ridden mass of writhing limbs.

Grounded only by the feeling of his lips on your skin as you both came down from your highs — by the way his messy hair felt beneath your fingertips as you soothed and massages his scalp. Sated by his warm weight on your body as he finally collapsed on top of you, wrapping you up in a loose hug as he just panted and gasped and regained his composure — all the while burying his reddened face in your chest. Kept sane by the feeling of the cold tile beneath your head as you finally gave in and laid back down on the floor, the pleasant chill helping you find your peace as you let yourself relax and catch your breath properly.

You could have stayed there forever if given the chance, laying in his arms saturated with a pleasure unlike any you’d experienced before, and gladly would have had it not been for a less than ideal interruption. The sort that had both of you rushing to readjust your uniforms and hide the evidence of what had taken place as best you could — all burning cheeks and terrified looks and shaking hands — not wanting to be seen in such a delicate state.

The clicking of heels. The humming of a lilting feminine voice. The silhouette of a telltale maid’s dress dancing across the front of the greenhouse.

Oh dear.

[asoftepiloguemylove]

home is the first grave

Karen Russell St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves / unknown / @/southern-gothic-decay (on tumblr) / Adonis (tr. Khaled Mattawa) excerpt from Body, "Selected Poems" / unknown / Mary Oliver Metamorphosque / Nikki Giovanni excerpt from Adulthood II, "Cotton Candy on a Rainy Day" / Warsan Shire excerpt from Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head: Poems / Team Dresch Uncle Phranc / @/elsiewarrenswords (on tumblr) / Wych elm Susan Smith

i. Karen Russell, St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves

[ "her own bedroom. When she was very small, she would wake up tearing at her bedspread and shrieking, 'I wanna go home! I wanna go home!' Which was distressing to all of us, of course, because she was home." ]

ii. unknown

[ "FUCK YOU IF YOU EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN / I'LL SHOVE MY HANDS DOWN YOUR THROAT / AND RIP OUT THE VERY HEART YOU STOLE FROM ME / UNTIL YOU CAN'T BREATHE AND THE HAUNTING / IMAGES FILL YOUR BRAIN AND THE BUGS / EAT YOUR REMAINS THERE WILL BE NO / REMORSE FROM ME AND I HOPE OU ROT IN THE GRAVE / YOU STOLE MY CHILDHOOD FROM ME YOU PIECE OF SHIT" ]

iii. @/southern-gothic-decay

[ "2. You can always make things more difficult. Draw it out. Make it interesting. Oh, you don't want to follow someone else's blueprints? Oh, you want to create something new? Too bad. We can't all be architects. Some of us were born to lay the bricks. Some of us were born to hide the bodies. You've been building this house since you were born, just like your father. Just like your father, you will not live to see it finished. The house has been a nursery. The house has been a burial site. The house is swallowing bodies before the blood has dried. Your inheritance is a knife's edge. Your inheritance is a culling. When the time comes, even your coffin will be a family heirloom. Come, make sure the measurements are right." ]

iv. Adonis (tr. Khaled Mattawa), Body

[ "And his ghosts said: Let's move on / Before the body is piling itself upon itself / secret by secret / Rot is also a heart / rot is also childhood / rot is also what love is" ]

v. Mary Oliver, Metamorphosque

[ "In the beginning I was so young and such a stranger to myself I hardly existed. I had to go out into the world and see it and hear it and react to it, before I knew at all who I was, what I was, what I wanted to be." ]

vi. Nikki Giovanni, Adulthood II

[ "There is always something / of the child / in us that wants / a strong hand to hold / through the hungry season / of growing up" ]

vii. Warsan Shire, Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head

[ "Mama, I made it / out of our home / alive, raised by / the voices in my head." ]

viii. Team Dresch, Uncle Phranc

[ "My mom says she loves me / But i don't think it's love / Cause she only loves me / When i act just like she does // And that's emotional blackmail" ]

ix. @/elsiewarrenswords

[ "I think that's what happens when you've lived a lonely childhood. You get too attached to people as you get older, in the hope that they'll give you the care and love that you missed out on and never leave you." ]

x. Wych elm, Susan Smith

[ "Why'd you do this to me / I was your baby / You made me" ]

[sweetsweetnuit]

  sweet, sweet release

synopsis: bucky offers to give you your first orgasm. and he fucking delivers.

pairing: bucky barnes (roommate) x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ ONLY. fingering, teasing, dirty talk, lots of pet-names because that’s the type of guy that bucky is (in my mind)

Your confession hung heavy in the air. 

Bucky looked at you from where he stood leaning against the wall. The loose grey sweatpants he was wearing hung low on his hips, a sinful juxtaposition to the way his tight shirt clung to his skin. 

The fabric only outlined the ridge of muscle that was Bucky Barnes. He was built like a God, an Adonis of man and you couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on his back as he made his morning coffee blissfully unaware of the wicked thoughts in your mind. 

Tonight was different. Bucky was different. 

He swiped his lip across his bottom lip, tucking it between his teeth while his eyes stayed locked on you as if you were his next meal. You stayed sat on the couch, scared to move under his gaze. 

Why did you have to go and tell him that?

No one’s ever given me an...orgasm. 

It shut Bucky up instantly. The teasing tone evaporating from his voice as something darkened in his eyes. You didn’t miss the subtle shift in posture either, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as his shoulders straightened. 

“Bucky,” your voice was soft and little. You felt like you were pleading to hear him say something, anything to get rid of the tension between you and him.

“Just forget I ever said anything. Please?” You were nearly begging as you saw the way his eyebrows cinched inward, forehead crinkling. 

He shifted on his feet, letting his arms drop from his chest to his sides. The dark metal gleamed under the lowlight of the living room, intricate gold patterns weaved up his arm before disappearing beneath the white cotton shirt. 

“You want me to forget?” He finally spoke, voice hoarse from disuse as he pushed away from the wall, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. 

It was both terrifying and arousing the way he walked with such power and prowess. Bucky knew his effect on you, constantly teased you about it even, but right now? You just wanted to disappear under the covers of your bed and never emerge. 

You nodded, “please.”

Bucky stopped, eyes fluttering closed as he let a low growl slip from his lips. It was downright filthy and your core fluttered as you squirmed in your seat, attempting to get comfortable despite the growing ache between your thighs. An embarrassing one.  

When his eyes opened again, he didn’t look like your Bucky anymore. This Bucky was different, darker and rougher around the edges; hungrier. 

“Do you really think I can forget the fact that you’ve never come from someone’s touch?” Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, not expecting this level of transparency. 

You didn’t know what to say, so instead, you looked up at him with hot skin and a flurry of emotions you didn’t quite understand. 

“Sweetheart, we share a goddamn wall. I’ll never be able to forget how sweet you sound when you come from those fingers or that toy you love so much.” You had to physically suppress the moan that threatened to slip past your lips. 

When Bucky took another step, your heart thrummed violently against your chest. You had to crane your neck upwards to meet his eyes, not missing the slight bulge in his sweatpants. 

Fuck, that was hot. The way he wasn’t even ashamed. Not going to any length to hide that fact that he was aroused and that you were the cause. 

“I-I didn’t think you could hear me,” you whispered, more so to yourself as Bucky’s mouth twitched upwards. 

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart. I never said I minded.” He dropped his left eye in a wink, watching how you clenched your legs together while watching his with wide eyes. 

Then, Bucky dropped to his knees. 

He dropped to his knees in front of you, placing two large hands on your bare knees. You cursed when your skin broke out in goosebumps, the oversized shirt not quite long enough to cover anything past your mid-thigh. 

“I’m going to say something,” Bucky’s words brought you back to reality. “And you have full permission to punch me if you’d like.” 

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you watched him tentatively. The faint smirk slowly disappearing off his lips as his thumbs traced gentle circles over your skin. 

“Let me try and make you come, baby. I promise I’ll make it so good for you.” He all but whispered, the need seeping through his words and this time, you gasped lightly. 

Your roommate, your stupidly hot roommate, was on his knees in front of you nearly begging to make you come. You knew Bucky was good in bed, the few hookups that he’d invited over seemed to agree with that sentiment too. 

Bucky’s eyes never left yours, despite the fact that you cast yours down to your lap to watch his fingers move slowly across your legs. You were practically vibrating, panties a mess as you chewed on your lip. 

“It takes me a...while, Bucky.” You admitted, nerves getting the best of you. 

The biggest reason why no one could make you come is because they didn’t have the patience. Maybe you got sucked into your own head, but whenever you thought you were getting close, you realized how long it was, feeling embarrassed. 

“I’ve got all fucking night if that’s what it takes, sweetheart.” Bucky’s response was quick, no hesitation as his dog tags swayed in front of his chest and over your thighs as he leaned into your body. 

“There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing than making you feel good and watching you fall apart.” His voice was so low and rough that you had to close your eyes to gather yourself. 

You felt dizzy, like you were spinning out of control. 

“Are you sure?” You squeaked out, eyes suddenly heavy as you tried to open them. 

Bucky’s tongue darted out over his bottom lip again, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” 

You wanted nothing more than to feel Bucky’s hands and mouth on you, often fantasizing of this exact moment as your shitty vibrator buzzed between your legs late at night. 

“I need you to say it, baby. I need to hear you.” Bucky was pleading, looking like he was on the verge of falling apart from the way the pads of his fingers were now digging into your flesh. 

You nodded your head, breathless as you spoke. “Yes. Please, Bucky. Make me come.” 

That was all Bucky needed before he lurched forward, capturing your lips with his. It took you by surprise, body going rigid before you slowly melted into his touch. His lips were soft and gentle as they worked against your own. 

When he swiped his tongue across your lip, the last piece of your resolve crumbled away. His tongue met yours, gliding against it while his hands gripped your hips, bringing you to the edge of the couch. Your hands were on his broad shoulders, gripping them for balance. 

Bucky pulled away with wet and swollen lips, “you’re going to kill me with those sounds you make.” 

You sputtered, unable to form a coherent sentence as his fingers danced over your clothed core. The thin panties suddenly felt like too much, a shudder wrecking its way down your spine. 

“I dream about this sweet pussy of yours, baby.” He smirks, dancing over your clit as you grip the edges of the couch. The coil in your stomach was already there, barely, but it had begun to form the second his lips were on yours. 

This man was either a Godsend or the Devil in disguise. 

“Did you get this wet for me?” Bucky coos and you can only nod your head pathetically. 

When he adds more pressure, an obscene sound leaves through your throat. A sound you’ve never made before, a sound you didn’t think you were capable of making. 

“If I move these cute little panties to the side, are you going to make a mess on our couch, sweetheart?” He whispers in your ear lowly, pressing kisses to your neck. 

Another sound leaves your body, a strained whine as Bucky’s fingers leave where you need him most. But only for a second, because he’s slipping your panties to the side and audibly groaning. 

“Fuck.” He seemingly loses his breath. “Fuck, baby. This is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. God, look at you.” He slips one warm finger through your folds, collecting your slick. 

He holds the digit in front of both your faces before tracing it over your bottom lip. It’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever done. His finger leaves your mouth and enters his, indulging in your taste. 

“Mmm, sweet as honey.” He hums, your core clenching and you think you’re about to come right here and right now. From the sight of Bucky teasing and tasting you all at once. 

“Bucky,” your voice is strained and broken. 

“I’m right here, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you, remember. Gonna make you feel so good.” He promises, spreading your legs further apart before his hand disappears into your panties. 

He cups your sex, the action jolting you backwards. His lips are back on your neck, exploring your collarbone as he teases your entrance with two fingers and you think you’re going to die. 

You’re going to die if Bucky doesn’t do something because you’ve never been this wound up before. 

“Listen to yourself, baby. Hear how wet you are? All for me.” He teases, lightly circling your clit before his fingers disappear into your entrance slightly. 

He keeps them there, buried only to the first knuckle as he watched the way you shudder and throw your head back, nipples hard and poking against your shirt. Bucky’s lips wrap around them, biting gently the same time he slides his fingers deeper in you. 

Your entire world has been flipped upside down because right at that moment, you know that Bucky Barnes has just ruined all over men for you. He’s ruined them and it’s all his fault that you’ll compare the rest of them to him. 

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers encouragingly, pumping his fingers slowly. 

“I can feel you clenching my fingers, you needed this bad, didn’t you?” You can’t say anything, there simply aren’t any words in your head. You’ve forgotten the English language. 

His thumb circles your clit, angling his fingers so they meet your the spongey spot that curls your toes and knocks the breath right out of your lungs. No, this can’t be what you’re missing out on. This is far too good. 

“O-oh God,” you groan, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of Bucky. “I-I think I’m gonna come.” 

Bucky chuckles darkly against the crook of your neck, “I know you are, sweetheart. I can feel you fluttering around me.” 

He works you better than you work yourself, a feeling that you’ve never experienced, but you know you’ll be chasing it forever because Bucky has you hooked and he’s the most dangerous drug out there. 

“It’s okay, baby. That’s my good girl, don’t hold back. Make a mess all over my hand, show me how good you feel right now. Come for me.” He growls the last few words before you go off. 

It grips you. Hard. As you tumble over the edge and Bucky is right there with you, right by your side. He rides out your orgasm in long and deep strokes of his fingers and pressure on your clit, your muscles contracting and relaxing before you go completely boneless. 

“Come back to me, sweetheart.” Bucky murmurs against your skin, slowly withdrawing his fingers, leaving you empty. 

You flutter your eyes open, his soft eyes meeting yours. 

“There’s my girl,” your heart skips a beat. “I thought I’d lost you there.” 

The aftershocks still ripple through you, a soft reminder of the intensity of your orgasm. But Bucky’s right there, he’s still sitting snugly between your legs, running a hand over your thigh and hip while whispering sweet words. 

“Bucky, oh my God.” You blabber, no longer capable of feeling ashamed. 

He smirks, leaning back on his heels. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come, I’m going to dream about you.” The tent in his pants confirms what he’s saying. 

When he stands up, reality sucker punches you in the gut. But, Bucky leans down, his thumb smoothing across your cheek before he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“Don’t ever be ashamed of wanting someone to take their time on you, sweetheart. You deserve to be worshipped, and if you give me the chance, I’ll savour every fucking sound you make.” 

[lillywillow]

Aphrodite

Summary: You feel uncomfortable in everything you own. Luckily, your boyfriend’s jacket fits you perfectly

 Written for: @buckybarnesbingo

 Words: 1261

 Square Filled: U4- Boyfriend Jacket

 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Sized!Female Reader  

 Warnings: Body issues, mild adult themes

 For a while now, you had been feeling uncomfortable in your clothes. Everything you put on felt tight or twisted up in all the wrong places but ever since you started stealing Bucky’s jacket, those things didn’t matter. Whenever you were wearing it, you felt so much better. The warmth you felt didn’t just come from the garment itself but whenever Bucky caught you in it. Feeling his eyes on you made you feel confident, beautiful and loved. Bucky told you how much he adored seeing you in it and how gorgeous he thought you were. You loved that man so much.

…

 You were in the kitchen wearing Bucky’s jacket, grabbing yourself a snack.

 “Don’t you think it’s time you gave your poor boyfriend his jacket back?” Nat mused from behind you.

 “Nope. Mine now,” you grinned. “Besides, it’s the only thing that fits me nowadays…”

 “If you want, I can take you shopping,” Nat offered.

 “Thanks, Nat, but I think I’ll pass,” you sighed, sitting down to eat.

 “Everything alright?” Nat asked, picking up on something in your voice.

 “I don’t really like clothes shopping. The last time I went, I nearly got stuck in something and almost burst into tears in the dressing room… The salespeople always make me feel so insecure and forget about buying pretty underwear. They all seem to think that if you’re beyond a certain size, you don’t deserve anything outside of plain white, black or beige…”

 Bucky heard your every word. It hurt him to think that you felt this way. He wished that he could take every flaw you saw in yourself and turn them into how he saw you.

 “You know, Nat… Whenever I wear Bucky’s jacket, all of that goes away. It smells like him and it feels like he’s hugging me… Whenever he looks at me in his jacket, it makes me feel… like I’m the only woman in the world that matters to him. Some days, I can’t believe that Adonis chose me…”

 Bucky walked up behind you and kissed the top of your head.

 “Hi, beautiful,” he smiled, pecking your lips.

 “Hi, handsome. We were just talking about you.”

 “Really? Nothing bad I hope,” he smirked, like he hadn’t just been listening in.

 “I was just telling Nat how lucky I am to have a boyfriend like you.”

 Bucky kissed you deeply, sending butterflies to the pit of your stomach. It was one of those kisses that took your breath away and made you glad to be a woman... specifically Bucky’s woman.

 “Have I told you how gorgeous you look in my jacket?” he panted when he pulled away.

 “Not today,” you purred.

 “Well let’s fix that…”

 Bucky kissed you again, pulling you close to his body.

 “Guys, this is a kitchen. People eat here,” Nat teased.

 You felt the heat rush to your face as you pulled away.

 “I have to go shopping with Sam but I’ll see you later, okay?”

 “Okay, baby,” you smiled, giving another peck on the lips.

 Bucky smiled back and headed off.

…

 After an hour of going store to store with Sam, Bucky was starting to feel tired and grumpy. Sam wanted to find the perfect gift for his nephew’s birthday while also staying within his sister’s restrictions. Finally, they found something for the boy but as they were about to go home, one store in particular caught Bucky’s eye… a lingerie store specific to plus size women.

 “I’m need to get something. I’ll catch up with you soon…”

 “Okay, man. I’m going to get something to eat at the food court,” Sam shrugged, heading off.

 Bucky nodded and waited for him to go out of eyesight before going into the shop. Inside, there was so much to look at. Bra, underwear and other frilly intimates made from lace, satin and cotton. They came in a variety of colours from sinful sangria to a more subdued soft cotton candy.

 “Hello, how may I help you?” the saleswoman greeted.

 “Hi. Um… I’m looking for something for my girlfriend. She’s been feeling pretty down about herself lately and I just wanted to get her something to make her feel pretty… I mean, to me she’s a total goddess but I just… I want to get her something to help her see that…"

 The saleswoman smiled warmly at him.

 “I can help you pick something. Follow me…”

 Bucky told her your sizes and she assisted him in getting you something that was as stunning as you were.

…

 When Bucky came home, he found you still in his jacket watching a movie on the couch.

 “Hey, doll,” he smiled, sitting next to you on the couch.

 “Hi, handsome. How was shopping?” you asked, instantly curling up to him.

 “It was alright. I got you a little something…”

 “You did?”

 Bucky gave you the fancy bag which was stuffed with cream tissue paper. Curios, you sifted through to find the contents. You pulled out the three sets Bucky had bought. The first was a lovely babydoll with bows, lace and matching underwear in your favourite colour. The second was a silky nightie that could be worn with the underwear from the babydoll set. The third was a practical set that was still pretty while suiting your skin-tone. It also matched with Bucky’s jacket.

 “Bucky, why did you get these for me? I mean, they’re beautiful but…”

 You trailed off, feeling those insecurities take hold of you again.

 “Like you. Y/N, I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, especially when you’re wearing my jacket but I wanted to get you something that made you feel that way… If you’re really not comfortable, I can take them back…”

 You looked at the items Bucky had bought. He really must have put a lot of thought about this and it made you smile.

 “I love them, Bucky. How about I give you a little fashion show?” you purred.

 “I like the sound of that,” he smirked.

…

 Bucky waited on the outside of your door as you put on one of the new things he bought. You decided on just the ordinary set, putting on the jacket. It kind of felt like a suit of armour but as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt like you maybe didn’t need it in that sense. The set felt comfortably and you felt, well… hot. All those little things that normally bothered you didn’t seem so bad because you were wearing something of the man you loved and something that he picked out just for you.

 “How are you doing in there, doll?” Bucky asked from the other side of the door.

 “You can come in now,” you chimed.

 When Bucky walked in, his jaw dropped.

 “What do you think?” you giggled, giving a twirl.

 “Venus herself would be jealous… I knew I’d love it but the jacket really puts it above and beyond…”

 You really, truly believed his words.

 “How about I show you the others?”

 “You can… after I’m done enjoying this one.”

 You laughed as Bucky pounced on you, holding you close. As long as you had Bucky and his jacket, you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. You couldn’t wait to go shopping with him next time.

[branded-witha-j]

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

WC: 790

Warnings: oral (m receiving), gagging, saliva/spit, a bit of degradation/dumbification, and pretty much Ransom being Ransom.

Based off of this post and picture.

Hellcat

His mother would hate it, would loathe that he marred his skin with something so tacky. And there was no place better than right on his hip, hidden until he would moan his way into a luxurious stretch, arms over his head. Just to see the look on Linda Thromby's face would be worth the temporary pain.

He picks one of those hole in the wall places, tucked in between a sandwich shop and a tanning salon. The place reeks of deli meats and coconut tanning oil, making him crinkle his nose in disgust. Frames line the wall, showcasing examples of art, and the bored looking woman behind the counter perks as he moves along the wall.

You step forward, giving the man a smile, and he promptly ignores you. "Anything you're looking for in particular?" You try to engage him and finally he turns in your direction. He's handsome, almost painfully attractive, and the clothes he's wearing probably cost more than every piece in your closet. His gaze is intimidating and you almost back down when he jabs a thumb at something along the wall. It's a tiger.

"I want that."

---

"You want that?" Ransom's voice rumbles deeply. You whimper out, nodding feebly as he slips two fingers between your lips, dragging them along your tongue to the cusp of your throat. You gag, making him smile, and he begins to thrust them in and out, taking you just to the point of emptying your stomach when he tears them away.

A thick string of saliva connects your gasping mouth to his long fingers and they bury into the hair at the crown of your head. The outline you placed on his hip is smeared, the tiger distorted almost beyond recognition. His hips are narrow but defined, an adonis belt framing his beautiful cock. He knows what he wants and the hand at your head guides you back down. He's sweetly musky, the salt of his skin making you salivate. The moan that comes up from your throat vibrates down to his toes and his fingers tighten as his hips slam forward. You retch, the sound spurring Ransom on, and the small tattoo shop echoes with the sound of him fucking your throat.

He's made a mess of you, saliva dripping from your chin, and into the valley between your tits. He's ruthless, hips pounding as he seeks out his pleasure, while ignoring your own. Your knees brace into the floor, aching almost as much as the place between your thighs. Both hands clutch at the expensive fabric of his pants, one of them dropping to slip between your legs.

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Your watery eyes dart up to meet his and his smile prompts you into giving him one around his cock. Ransom observes you for a moment, tilting his head as he shallowly thrusts into your mouth. Perfect teeth nibble at his bottom lip and the nonchalant, almost dismissive way he gives you permission takes you a moment to register. A sharp thrust into your throat makes you gag in surprise and the man above you goes in and out of focus around your tears.

"I said you could touch yourself. Are you too stupid for my cock to understand?"

You whimper, eyes rolling back as your hand slips under your skirt, your swollen clit pressing at the cotton of your panties.

"Hurry up." Ransom pulls out of your mouth, using the anchor at your hair to lean you back. His other hand slowly pumps along his veiny length, eyes dark as he watches you. "Feel good?"

You nod, a shiver running up and down your body as his gaze makes you pulse. The movement of his hand picks up speed, your own falling into tandem. You're so close, trembling with the way that this man turned an innocent encounter into something so depraved. His voice is there and then it's muffled by your squeal of swelling pleasure, mouth agape as you moan through your release.

"Good girl. Such a good girl." Ransom is breathless, hand furiously stroking himself, and he steps forward with a yank of your hair, tilting your head back. His cum splashes across your cheek, any attempt to make it into your mouth instantly forgotten. He swears, abdomen flexing as he shoots thick ropes of spend across your chin, your nose, making it into your mouth with one final tug of his cock.

With a groan, Ransom falls back into the chair, the supplies for his tattoo knocked over and ruined. His eyes are hooded as he watches you, clicking his tongue as you go for a roll of paper towels.

"No. Leave it. I'm ready for that tattoo now."

[jcwriting]

There’s A First Time For Everything

summary ↬ namjoon has never had a blowjob before. you’re about to change that.

pairing ↬ idol!namjoon x reader

genre ↬ smut, pwp (im not kidding there is zero plot to this), fluff, (new) established relationship 

word count ↬ 2.8k

warnings ↬ swearing, oral (m receiving), face fucking, choking, reader has a painful thigh kink (don’t we all), overuse of the word thigh

authors note ↬ listen,,,,i saw that picture of namjoon in shorts (you know the one) and i just,,,lost it. also, this is my first time posting fic for bts and im shitting bricks about it so pls be nice to me!!!!! i hope you enjoy this quick (thirsty) little ode to namjoon’s thighs. pls let me know what you think!

also, the gif above haunts me. everyday. okay, enjoy.

“I want to give you a blowjob.”

Namjoon choked on the swig of water he had just taken. The two of you were watching TV. Actually, Namjoon was watching TV. You were sitting on the floor at the coffee table with your laptop out to answer some work emails. But, you were distracted. Specifically by Namjoon’s shorts. More specifically, Namjoon’s thighs in said shorts. The smooth golden skin was begging for your lips and your fingers itched to scratch your nails down to his knees. Then, your eyes naturally glided further up to the apex of his thighs. Where you knew his cock was resting. Again, just begging to be in your mouth. The thought of your jaw and throat aching while he lost it above you consumed your mind. All hope was lost then.

“You…um. Sorry. You want to do that?”

You cocked your head to the side. “Uh, yeah. Wait, did you want me to ask? I’ll ask. Can I give you a blowjob? Please?”

Namjoon chuckled. “No, no. You don’t have to ask. It’s just, y’know, are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said slowly. What was he not getting? “Do you not want one?”

“No! No, oh my god. I want that. I definitely want that. That’s not the issue.”

“Then, what is?”

Namjoon blew out a breath that fluttered the hair that rested on his forehead. He cupped the back of his neck and rubbed awkwardly. “I’ve never had someone do that to me before. So-”

“What?” You would have been less shocked if he had told you that he was a closeted furry. The two of you had only been dating for about a month so the in-depth what things did your ex do in bed conversation hadn’t been fully fleshed out yet. You knew he had lost his virginity to his previous girlfriend and they had had a healthy sex life, so you had just assumed that him receiving oral was part of that. Yet…this man, this absolute Adonis of a man had never gotten his cock sucked? It was the most absurd thing you had ever heard in your life. “Hold on. You had a girlfriend before me, right? She didn’t go down on you? Ever?”

Namjoon looked like he wanted the couch to swallow him whole but you barely noticed. You were too busy experiencing the shock of your fucking life. “I did. But she - uh, no. She didn’t want to and I didn’t want to pressure her.”

Your heart melted a little before you shut your laptop. Healthy sex life your ass. You were sucking this mans dick and that was final. “I’m going to give you a blowjob, Namjoon. Right now.” You turned to him and began crawling forward. His eyes flew to your ass that swayed in the air and he audibly swallowed. “If you don’t want me to then you need to tell me within the next thirty seconds.”

“Oh God,” he whimpered and spread his legs a little wider. You were salivating. “Yes. As long as you’re sure-” Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a heavy groan as your hands slid up his thighs. Finally, you smiled to yourself as you bent your fingers and allowed your nails to dig into the meat of his inner thigh.

“I have a thing for your thighs,” you murmured. “Never realized I had a thigh kink until I met you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to ride your thighs. Will you let me?”

“God, yes.” Namjoon went to reach for your arms but you batted his hands away. This wasn’t about you right now. This was about him. You reached for your hair and quickly pulled it into a sloppy bun. His eyes followed your movements and you didn’t miss how the bulge in his shorts twitched.

“I need you to tell me if I do something that you don’t like, okay? I want to make you feel good. Don’t be afraid to talk to me. If you like something, let me know. If not, then definitely let me know.” Namjoon nodded feverishly. His eyes were almost black and his chest was straining against his white top. You smirked to yourself. This was going to be fun.

Bending down, you pressed a kiss to the top of his thigh. Your mouth dragged along his skin and you relished in the way he quivered beneath you. Following the seam of his leg before doing the same on the other. Nails pressed little crescent moons into his flesh before your thumbs smoothed over the marks. Your nose lifted the loose material of his shorts up to his hips and skimmed the exposed areas as your tongue reached out to flick the little freckle that found a home on his hip before you set your sights on his dick that was straining for you. Lips that had previously kissed his skin now moved to the fabric that jailed his heavy cock. Sitting back, your thumb traced the underside of his dick softly before you barely brushed over the head. The cotton dragged against your finger and Namjoon huffed loudly before lifting his hips further into your touch.

“Don’t tease.” Namjoon’s voice had lowered a few octaves and the deep tone had you clenching your thighs. His hands fisted the pillows next to him and you could feel the restraint he was exacting on himself through the trembling of his muscles.

“I’m not,” you promised. “I’m just making sure you’re ready.”

“I am. Swear to God.”

Unable to keep the smile off your face, you nodded and reached for the waistband of his shorts. He lifted his hips and helped you shove the material to his ankles. That was when you realized two things.

One, he was right. His cock laid thick and proud on his stomach and was weeping for you. He was of average length but his girth let you know that were going to struggle to fit him in your mouth. The thought only made you shiver in delight. A phantom pain panged in your gut when you took in the slight curve of the head, knowing it was going to hit everything you needed.

Second, he had the prettiest cock you had ever seen. You never thought dicks were pretty. In fact, you were pretty resolute on that thought. Most likely due to the disgusting amount of unsolicited dick pics you had received in your life. But, Namjoon’s?  You wanted to take a picture, frame it and admire it whenever you wanted to. The skin that stretched around his width was a shade darker than the rest of him and his cock head, a pretty red color, made you want to see how far down you could get the flush to go.

You wrapped your hand around his length and twisted up. Namjoon’s back arched off the couch and a string of curses fell off of his lips. Your thumb collected the glistening pre-cum on his tip and used it to smooth your palm over him.

“I normally don’t say this,” you said as you became infatuated with the vein that ran along the underside of his cock, “but if you want to send me a dick pic, I definitely won’t complain. Like, ever.”

“B-baby, I’ll give you whatever you want. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Namjoon moaned, throwing his head back when your thumb pressed against the delicate skin that resided under the his mushroom tip.

You giggled lightly. “So sensitive. I’ve barely even started.”

Namjoon opened his mouth to say something but you didn’t give him a chance. You licked the vein that had caught your eye earlier and followed it to the top before enveloping the head of him into the heat of your mouth. You relished the broken groan that he let out. Several kitten licks were placed on his weeping slit before taking him deeper. You worked slowly, gauging his reaction as you took him further. He responded well, panting and moaning in encouragement, head still thrown back against the couch.

“You can look at me, you know,” you reminded him as he popped out of your mouth. Kisses were mouthed over the soft skin that was wrapped around the steel of his erection. Your hand used your spit as lube to tug him harder.

“Can’t,” Namjoon gasped. “Gonna blow my load if I watch you.”

“That’s kind of the whole point.”

“Not yet,” he whined. “I don’t want this to be over.”

You pinched his hip until he met your gaze, offering him a sweet smile. “This isn’t going to be the last time I get on my knees for you, baby.” You held his wide-eyed stare as you took him back into your mouth. Ignoring how his hands seemed to flutter around you, unsure of what to touch, you focused on sliding him further into your mouth. Then, you sucked hard, using your tongue to lave at the warm skin.

Namjoon lost it above you. He released a strangled moan that caused your core to absolutely gush. One hand finally tangled into your hair and the other gripped your shoulder with warning, which you ignored. You merely sucked and pulled harder. Namjoon’s hips flexed, causing the tip of him to slam into the back of your throat. Not expecting it, you couldn’t help but cough around him as your eyes watered.

“Oh, God! I’m so sorry.” Namjoon used the hand on your shoulder to yank you off. His thumbs wiped at the tears that trickled down your cheeks, the concern etched across his face made you feel warm inside. “Shit, are you okay?”

“I am, promise,” you assured him. “Just give me a second, okay?”

He nodded while pushing back some of your hair that had escaped your sloppy up-do. You gently removed his hands before looking down at his length that was still clutched in yours. As much as he had shocked you, the thought of him fucking your face was not something you shied away from. Really, it was exactly what you wanted. But you needed to prep a bit first.

When you took him back in your mouth, you focused on relaxing the muscles in your throat. Breathing deeply through your nose, you slowly worked yourself further down until your nose was pressed into the base of him. Spit trickled out of your mouth and over his balls as you pulled back. You did this a few more times, working past your gag reflex and allowing your throat to get used to the intrusion.

Namjoon was anything but quiet as you deep throated him. It was honestly the sexiest thing you had ever heard. While your past lovers hadn’t necessarily been quiet, the praises Namjoon kept raining on you and the beautiful noises he made were music to your ears. Your body certainly agreed. Your cunt ached to be filled and the fabric of your panties was soaked through. But, you ignored your needs and focused on the panting man before you.

“Okay,” you nodded as you popped him out of your mouth. “I’m ready.”

It took Namjoon’s brain a few seconds to process what you said. He shifted restlessly on the couch cushions as you ran your hands over his thighs. “Huh? W-what did you say?”

“I’m ready for you to fuck my face.”

His pupils were blown wide as he stared at you with an open mouth. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What if I want it to hurt?” You stared at him while purring the words that was his undoing. Namjoon’s eyes got impossibly darker as his chest expanded with a sharp intake of breath. He spread his legs wider and gently held the back of your head as he guided you down his shaft. You held eye contact with him as he cautiously raised his hips to meet your lips. Once he saw no signs of distress from you, he began thrusting more consistently as you bobbed your head to match his rhythm.

His steady movements didn’t last long but it didn’t bother you. You were more than happy to take over for him. Like you said, this wasn’t going to be the last time you worshipped his cock. The two of you had plenty of time to figure things out. Plus, knowing how much you clearly affected him gave you all the motivation you needed.

Your throat began to tense up again so you focused your attentions on his sensitive head and let your hands twist up to your mouth and back down. The sounds of your palm gliding along his slick skin and your lips sucking tightly filled the spacious living room. They were nearly drowned out by Namjoon, though.

“Baby, oh f-fuck…shit,” he keened loud and hard when your other hand moved to brush over his swollen balls. You cupped them gently and rolled them between your fingers. Even as he was practically thrashing against you, hips thrusting in an aimless rhythm, the hand he had originally placed on the back of your head remained there. He applied no pressure, allowing you to set the pace, but it also seemed to ground him. To remind him that this wasn’t a dream.

“M’gonna cum. Baby…baby, I’m gonna cum. Soon, oh God,” he babbled. You appreciated the warning but you didn’t need it. He was twitching wildly in your mouth and your tongue was coated with the salty essence of his pre-cum. In response, you ran your index finger on that sensitive spot behind his balls and that’s when Namjoon exploded.

Thick ropes of white shot down your throat, causing you to almost gag. Instead, you swallowed past the reflex and took as much as you could. By the fourth stream, a bit had managed to slip past the suction of your mouth and dribble down his cock. You were quick to clean up, licking at the mess the both of you had made before returning to his tip. You suckled the sensitive head until Namjoon practically shoved you away from him.

When you looked up you were met with a glorious sight. Namjoon was completely fucked out, twitching against the couch and his broad chest heaving for air. Sweat beaded his sharp jaw line and trickled down the column of his throat. His face was tilted towards the ceiling and his hair was haphazardly pushed off of his forehead. He looked completely ruined and entirely yours.

“Was that good?” You asked softly as you rose to your feet, ignoring the sharp ache in your knees. Namjoon made an unintelligible sound in the back of his throat that you took as a resounding yes. He cracked his eyes open and looked at you with such adoration you couldn’t help but blush.

“Really?” He murmured. “Don’t get shy on me now. You can’t just suck the life out of me one second and then start blushing like a school girl immediately after.”

“It’s called duality,” you muttered as your cheeks flushed darker. Namjoon snorted and reached for you, pulling you onto his lap. His spent cock nestled between your thighs and his eyes rolled back into his head when he felt the simmering heat through the fabric of your shorts.

“I need five minutes. Then, I swear to God, I’m going to eat you out like you deserve.”

Giggling, you wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the strands of hair at the base of his neck. “You don’t have to. This wasn’t a quid pro quo situation. I gave you a blowjob because I wanted to. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“It’s either you give me five minutes so that I can eat you out or ten minutes so I can fuck you into next week. You decide.”

His determination brought a smile to your face until you took in the purple bags under his eyes and how his eyelids kept drooping lower and lower. “How about a nap first, hm? I’ll decide after you get some sleep.”

Namjoon looked like he wanted to protest but you kissed him instead. His argument clearly wasn’t that strong because when you pulled away he was nodding in resignation. You helped him pull up his shorts and squealed when he lifted you up into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you let him carry you into the bedroom and wrap the both of you up in the comforter. You hadn’t planned on sleeping with him, wanting to get more work done while he slept. But the faint scent of his aftershave and the soft way he caressed your spine could lull an insomniac to sleep. Who were you to refuse?

“Wake me up when you decide,” Namjoon whispered into your hair. You nodded against his chest, and within minutes the two of you slipped into a deep slumber. Happy and content.

©jcwritings Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

LINKS:

masterlist

ao3

[seijorhi]

Choke.

another soulmate au nobody asked for :)

Akaashi Keiji x female reader x Bokuto Koutarou

TW dub-con, implied future non-con

It wasn’t a good day to begin with.

You’re late, rushing through the busy campus hallways to make it to an exam that quite frankly you’re at least 70% sure you’re going to fail, mostly because instead of cramming last night you’d been… otherwise occupied with your boyfriend.

And you really, really just want this whole thing to just be over with already.

With your nose stuck in your textbook, frantically pouring over your notes right up until the very last second, it’s hardly a surprise that you don’t see the two of them rushing down the hallway in the opposite direction until you’re quite literally colliding with the taller of the pair – the broad shouldered one.

Your notes go flying, the last of your coffee too and for one split second, you’re pretty positive that you’re gonna end up flat on your ass with a little more than some bruised pride. But just as you’re about to hit the ground, not one but two hands reach for you, catch you, and the very second they do, you feel it:

A flash of guilt and momentary alarm, embarrassment, you think, and chagrin, each emotion hitting you like a sledgehammer, overwhelming you, one after the other in a dizzying blur that’s distinctly other, and then–

Shock.

Dawning surprise. 

A rush of something warm, adoring, a happiness so bright and blinding that it makes you physically jerk backwards, almost slamming your head against the wall in the process. And two pairs of eyes – one a deep, luminous gold, the other a cool, gunmetal blue – stare at you in wide eyed wonder a split millisecond before you wrench yourself free, gasping. 

The moment their grip falters, the torrent stops. You can breathe.

Blessed silence, save for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Everything fades out around you – the students and lecturers alike bustling through the busy hallway, the humming drone of chatter that’s nearly deafening. Nothing exists but the three of you; caught in your little bubble.

And it’s dread, you think, that seeps through your blood as you stare at them. 

They’re both handsome, albeit in their own ways. The taller of the two – the one who’d almost barrelled you over – looks like he could probably bench press you without breaking a sweat. His shirt isn’t exactly clinging to him, but you can see the hints of well defined muscles beneath, and the size of his biceps alone are enough to make your heart skip a beat and your mouth dry up a little. With rippling muscles, spiky black and silver hair, a strong jawline and those round, golden eyes, he looks like a modern day adonis. 

His friend might’ve been shorter, his build leaner, but with his softer features, pretty eyes and dark hair, you think he’s perhaps the prettiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. From the fineness of his nose to the gentle curve of his lips and his long, dark sweeping eyelashes, he reminds you of those white marble statues you’ve seen before in museums and art galleries– a beauty so divine, so perfect – so devastating – that it steals your breath a little.

And they’re both watching you, frozen entirely. Smiling in breathless delight, as if they can’t quite believe it either.

Soulmates. 

You’ve spent your whole life wondering what it would be like, experiencing somebody else’s emotions. Studies have been done and countless books and articles written about the bond between soulmates; the intimacy of sharing emotions through touch, but nobody really knows why or how it happens.  

And for some, it’s a subtle thing. A suggestion, a whisper against their own consciousness, easily brushed aside. Others feel it stronger. 

For you, it was like drowning. Choking under the sudden, intense barrage of feelings that weren’t yours. Maybe it’s because there’s two of them – and that much at least you’re sure of. You don’t have the words to explain it, but they’d felt separate somehow, distinctive from one another – kind of like fingerprints, you suppose.

There’s no denying the bond, no denying that they’re both your soulmates, and all you can think of is that you don’t want it. Not here, not now. Not them.

The dark haired one seems to realise quicker than his friend that you’re not reacting how you’re supposed to, you’re just standing there, rigid and tense, gaping at them. And the slight smile that graced his perfect lips starts to waver, his brows drawing together when finally his friend cottons on.

He reaches for you, the beginnings of a pout taking shape on his face, and you move without even thinking, jerking out of reach with a sharp breath. His hand hangs outstretched for a beat too long, a noise like a kicked puppy leaving his lips as he realises that you’re flinching away from him; away from your soulmate. He looks heartbroken, and he’s yet to utter a single word. 

You don’t give him a chance. You’re not some cold, unfeeling beast; there’s a twinge in your heart, a heaviness that’s far too close to guilt settling in your stomach, but you just can’t. And with shaking hands you bend over and hastily grab up your things, forcing yourself not to meet their confused, hurt stares when you right yourself. 

“I– I’m sorry,” you murmur, and before either one of them can try to stop you, you disappear into the crowd, racing for your exam. 

—

The lights are on when you make it back home, the familiar, comforting scent of home cooked food filling your apartment.

“Hey, babe,” your boyfriend calls out as you wearily drop your purse by the door and kick out of your shoes. His back’s to you, attention fixed on the simmering saucepan on the stovetop, but he glances over his shoulder as he continues, “How’d your exam go?”

And you can’t help it, you burst into tears.

Painful, heaving sobs that might’ve had you collapsing onto the floor if he hadn’t swept across the room to snatch you up into his arms. “That bad, huh?” Kuguri jokes, but the words sound hollow.

“I found them,” you mutter into his chest, and the way he stiffens, his grip tightening for just a moment has your heart breaking all over again. 

Kuguri doesn’t say much as he leads you to the couch, he just lets you talk. It’s almost worse, you think, the way he doesn’t react. 

Because you both knew this was coming at some point. For months you’ve tried to convince yourself that you could feel him when you were together.

You felt his love when he held you, right?

Happy when he was happy?

But you’d known, both of you, that as much as you wished it otherwise, he wasn’t your soulmate, and you weren’t his. And whether it was today or six months down the line, this was always going to happen.

“You don’t have to…” you trail off, searching his eyes desperately for anything other than the gentle resignation lingering there. “I love you.”

He smiles at that, cups your cheek in his hand and brushes away the stray tear that spills. “I know you do, but–” it’s not enough. “They’re your soulmates. Don’t you think they deserve a chance to make you happy?”

He’s gone when you wake the next morning.

—

In a university of thousands, a sprawling city campus, you honestly believe that in spite of everything, you probably won’t see them again. They don’t know your name, or what you study, you don’t live in the dorms like some of the other students; the chances of just randomly bumping into them again are slim, soulmates or no.

Of course, there are facebook groups and pages set up to reconnect lost soulmates, but you’d have to actually want to find them to try something like that.

(Part of you wonders whether they’ve tried)

The universe has a sense of humour, it seems, because when your paths cross next, it’s not at uni, it’s at the little corner store a few blocks down from your apartment. 

At 2am in the morning. 

And you’re staring intently at the freezer, mentally weighing up exactly what kind of ice cream you need to sate your craving when you hear the sharp intake of breath behind you.

“Holy crap, you’re here.”

It’s stupid, you think, the way your stomach flutters when you turn to find him staring in wide eyed wonder; the taller one, with the spiky hair and those impossibly wide, honey eyes.

He’s smiling, his entire face lit up like a christmas tree at the sight of you. As if you hadn’t run off without so much as an acknowledgement the last time you’d met. As if seeing you here, looking like shit – makeup free and dressed in your old favourite sweats – is the absolute best thing that could have happened.

And when your cheeks grow hot, you’re not entirely sure if it’s embarrassment over the way you look, the fact that he’s caught you buying ice cream that you fully intend to let melt just a little bit before polishing off at two in the morning, or if it’s shame over how badly you’d reacted the last time you’d seen him.

But if he notices your inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it, grinning widely as he calls back over his shoulder, “Akaashi!”

You still haven’t uttered a peep, haven’t moved. Just like last time you’re caught feeling like a kid with their hand stuck in the cookie jar as your other soulmate rounds the corner, his attention fixed on the ingredients list of the rice cracker snacks in his hands, a basket full of groceries tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Bokuto, I was just around the corner, there’s no need to shout.”

Pretty steel blue eyes flicker up for a split second, then quickly do a double take as he realises that it’s you – his errant soulmate, standing struck dumb, here of all places. “Oh.”

Oh. 

Akaashi eyes you for a moment, and you watch as his throat bobs unsteadily, but just as with Bokuto, he can’t seem to help the smile that creeps across his face. It’s softer than his friend’s, not so blinding but warm nonetheless. Genuine. There’s no animosity there, and it should put you at ease – they don’t seem to blame you, at least. 

It should, but it doesn’t. 

Even now, there’s a little voice in your head urging you to forget your late night cravings, turn tail and run. Nevermind that they’d likely just follow you, much less that you’d look like an absolute fucking idiot, fleeing from your soulmates who so far have done nothing wrong.

It’s not supposed to be this awkward, right? It’s not supposed to be difficult, but even when they’re smiling at you, there’s a tension that digs its claws into you and refuses to relent. Your heart thumps unevenly, like a scared little bunny caught in a trap and the wolves are circling.

If it’s normal, then your parents and every other soulmated pair you’ve ever met certainly kept it to themselves. Maybe it’s the guilt, you think. Maybe you’re just being overdramatic. They’re your soulmates, right? They probably just want to talk, to get to know you, and right now you’re the one being standoffish and rude. 

It occurs to you then that you still haven’t spoken, and they’re both staring at you somewhat expectantly. You really are fucking this up, aren’t you?

“H-hi,” you manage to muster, forcing yourself to smile back. Tiny and timidly, perhaps, but it’s a smile. 

It seems to work, because Bokuto positively beams at you and Akaashi sets down his basket to slide in closer, a pleased little hum escaping his throat. 

Aside from the faint sound of the radio playing in the background and the cashier casually flicking through a magazine up at the register, the store is quiet. It’s just the three of you, except this time there really is no running off and disappearing into the crowd. Which is fine, you need to face them sooner or later, right?

Give them a chance?

Otherwise everything else, all that heartbreak and the lonely nights since will have been all for nothing. So you swallow tightly, take a soft, steadying breath, and press on.

“I, um… I’m sorry about last time. You know with… everything,” you finish lamely, mentally cringing at the sheer awkwardness of it. “I had an exam.”

But again, your soulmates don’t seem to take it personally, the darker haired one (Akaashi, your brain helpfully supplies) nodding slightly. 

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” He has a nice voice, calming and smooth, and though the words seem to carry a different weight you find yourself nodding along with him. You can do this, you can make an effort.

This is fine.

You swallow again, tongue darting out to wet your lips, “I’m Y/N,” you introduce, clutching just a little bit tighter at the handles of your own shopping basket.

You don’t extend a hand, nor try to go in for a hug, but standing there rigidly feels wrong too. They’re strangers, yes, but they’re also not, and you don’t quite know how to act around somebody like that, somebody you’re supposedly fated for but know nothing about. All you know is that the last time they touched you, it was too much. It hurt. And even as you catch sight of the slightly disheartened expression on Bokuto’s face, you’re hesitant to put yourself through it again.

“It’s pretty,” Akaashi compliments, and there’s a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks as he says it. “Suits you.”

Your own probably aren’t much better, with the blood that rushes to your face. You drop your gaze a little, nibbling on your bottom lip, “O-oh, uh… thank you.”

When you glance back up to Bokuto, you find him staring at you again, not with the same hurt expression as before, but something akin to wonder. He seems speechless, in awe of your flustered state, and you wonder how he can bounce that quickly from emotion to emotion without giving himself whiplash. But it seems like your attention is just the thing he needs to pull himself out of it, because he closes his gaping mouth and grins again.

“Y/N,” he repeats, like he’s testing it out, rolling your name over his tongue. “You probably heard, but I’m Bokuto– you can call me Koutarou, though.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and he’s quick to add, “And that’s Akaashi.”

“Keiji,” Akaashi corrects, shooting you another gentle smile. 

First names. It makes sense, you suppose, but the familiarity of it all still doesn’t sit quite right with you. But now that introductions are out of the way, you don't have a clue what you’re supposed to say now - ‘so, soulmates; crazy, huh?’ doesn’t exactly feel appropriate, given the circumstances.

You’re distinctly aware that it’s the middle of the night and you’re at a convenience store and while this might not be the worst time to run into your soulmates again, it’s not far off. 

Maybe that’s not a bad thing, though, because at least it kind of gives you an out. Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you clear your throat, “I hope you guys don’t think I’m being rude or anything, but it is kinda late…” you trail off, hoping they’ll pick up what you’re putting down.

And while Bokuto’s brow furrows, Akaashi at least has the decency to look a little abashed. “Yeah, no, of course. We’re just so… we’re glad we ran into you again.”

 Your cheeks heat again, and to save yourself from having to meet their gazes head on, you quickly spin around, open the freezer door and grab the first pint ice cream that you see. “I just came for this,” you laugh, fighting back a wince at how hollow and fake it all sounds. 

“Here,” Bokuto says, and before you can react he’s snatching it from your grip (thankfully keeping his hand from brushing against yours) and places it atop the basket in Akaashi’s arms. “Our treat.”

He beams at you, and you’re honestly too stunned to reply. You don’t really want him paying for it, but if it gets you out of this awkward encounter any quicker, you’ll swallow down your protests and let it go. 

And so you trail meekly after the two of them as they head to the cashier, and when Akaashi passes you the bag you’re so careful to avoid his touch, a fact he notes with the slightest of frowns, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

“It’s late,” he says instead as the three of you exit into the brisk night air. And then those gunmetal eyes are on you, studying you for a moment. You realise what he’s about to say the moment he opens his mouth again, “Can we walk you home? Or to the bus stop at least?”

Your stomach lurches at the thought of it, of two veritable strangers knowing where you live, but–

He’s not wrong, exactly. It is late, and in hindsight it was probably stupid for you to have come out at this time of the night alone in the first place, whether it was a safe neighbourhood or not. And they’re not strangers, they’re your soulmates.

You have to try. 

So you nod. ‘It’s just down the road,” you murmur, but as the two of them fall into step either side of you, sharing a distinctly satisfied look between themselves, you think that it wouldn’t have mattered how far it was. They would have walked with you anywhere.

Yet their expressions of mild surprise (disappointment, maybe?) when you stop them less than five minutes later in front of your apartment block almost makes you laugh. “This is me.”

Bokuto eyes the building for just a moment before his attention returns to you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Lie, that little voice inside your head urges, but you force yourself to ignore it. You have to try. “Uh, not much, I guess…”

Even as you say the words, your hands tighten on your bag, twisting nervously – a sign they either don’t read or wilfully ignore as Bokuto brightens up once again.

“Awesome! Wanna swing by ours to chill for a little bit?”

Like a date, you think as your gaze flickers between the two. Yet Akaashi’s watching you just as intently, those dark eyes far more inscrutable than Bokuto’s, which doesn’t help ease the uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach. There’s really no reason for you to say no, no polite way for you to turn them down. They’re your soulmates, you’re supposed to want this. “Um…”

“Or we can come here, if you want? Or head into the city and do something there, maybe go see a movie or something? Whatever you’d prefer.”

“No!” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them, the idea of the two of them in your apartment, your home just feels like… too much. “No,” you repeat again, quieter, forcing your features to soften into a hesitant smile. “Your place is good.”

That way you can leave if it all gets to be too much. It’s just a casual hang out. It’ll be fine. 

Both of them seem to relax at your agreement, and you quickly take out your phone to grab Akaashi’s number – sending him a message so he has your number too.

“Perfect,” he says, his voice a purr that sends a ripple of something running down your spine. “I’ll text you the address in the morning.”

You smile at both of them, thanking them again for the ice cream and for walking back with you, even if it was only a few hundred metres. And you think you’re in the clear as you start walking up the steps, trying to balance your keys, your phone and your bags when the sound of your name being called makes you turn around.

Bokuto’s there, a step behind you, and before you can even so much as blink he’s grabbing at your hand, tugging you forward and kissing you.

Just like last time, it’s instantaneous and overwhelming. You feel it all – his giddy excitement, the stirrings of something deeper, less innocent as he cradles your body to his.

And the love. 

Oh god. It’s not mere affection, not some fleeting, superficial thing. It pours over you in unrelenting waves, crushing you under the force of it – you can’t even feel his tongue moving against yours, or the way he sucks on your bottom lip, groaning quietly.

You can’t breathe, can’t think. It’s too much, too much, too strong, too sudden, you can’t BREATHE.

Your trembling hands finds his shoulders, and as your head spins, nausea churning in your gut you don’t waste a second, shoving him away from you with enough force that he actually stumbles back a little.

Though you’ll admit it’s probably more from shock than any strength you actually possess. 

And you don’t dare look to Akaashi as tears fill your eyes, a heaving gasp leaving your lips. Bokuto’s eyes are wide, his mouth agape; he looks confused more than horrified as you stumble back, almost tripping over the last step.

“D-don’t touch me,” you gasp, “please.”

There’s pain in his eyes as your tears well up and spill over and you choke back another sob, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything else. Limbs trembling, you force yourself upright, clutching at the keys in your fist as you skitter towards the door.

You hear one of them, Akaashi you think, calling out your name, but you don’t pause, don’t look back – throwing open the lobby door and slamming it shut behind you. 

And your heart pounds as you climb the steps two at a time, and it’s only once you're in the safety of your own apartment, with the door shut and firmly locked that you allow yourself to breathe. You realise distantly that at some point – probably on the steps outside – you dropped the ice cream they’d bought for you, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. The first time you realise was an accident, they had no way of knowing you were their soulmate, much less how you’d react when they’d touched you. But that–

That wasn’t right.

It wasn’t normal.

Those feelings, that love, you’ve never experienced anything like it, and yet it’s left you feeling filthy; tainted. Scared. It was too much; boundless and abundant, the kind of love that devours and chokes, selfishly strangling everything in its environment to thrive. Overpowering and solely directed at you. How was it supposed to do anything but terrify you. And how can he possibly believe that he loves you like that already?

Soulmates or not, you don’t know him!

This– this whole thing is wrong.

You can’t stop yourself from checking the locks on your apartment another three times before you slip under the covers of your bed, trying to will sleep to find you.

On the nightstand beside you, your phone vibrates, but you refuse to check it, knowing full well that it’s them.

It doesn’t stop.

And with every new notification your blood pressure climbs, and there’s a part of you that’s telling you you have no reason to be reacting like this – whatever happened on those steps, it’s not like they’re going to hurt you.

It was an accident, a misunderstanding.

But they’re still blowing your phone up with notifications and they know where you live and no matter what you tell yourself, you can’t seem to quell the disquiet that eats away at you.

And it’s a cruel thing to do, you know it is, but you don’t know what else to do as you finally give in, swiping your phone up and searching for his contact. The phone rings once, twice, three times and there’s a sinking feeling in your chest when you realise he’s not going to pick up–

“Hello?” Kuguri’s voice is groggy, heavy with sleep and you can almost picture him, sitting up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes, running a hand through his messy bed hair. “Fuck, do you know what time it is, Y/N? Why’re you calling me so late?”

There’s a pause, pregnant and heavy, and the only sound that leaves you is the soft hitch in your breath.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, quieter this time, an edge of worry in his tone.

You haven’t spoken to him in weeks, since he’d left without a word and broke your heart, but he’s the only one you want to talk to right now.  

“I-I’m sorry for calling,” you begin, sniffling back your tears. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

—

When you drag yourself out of bed only a few short hours later, your body’s still crying out for a little more sleep, but you can’t afford to indulge.

Like you’d planned, you send the message first thing, ignoring the flood of unread texts above – both from Akaashi and an unknown number you can only assume is Bokuto’s.

I’m sorry about last night, just need some space. 

You have nothing to be sorry for – even if it wasn’t for the frankly unsettling emotions you’d felt, Bokuto’d still kissed you without your permission. But Kuguri said it was better that way – they were less likely to freak out and panic or whatever. You hadn’t questioned it too much, it didn’t really matter what you said so long as they knew you didn’t want them anywhere near you… at least until you figured this whole thing out. And you trusted Kuguri on this.

God knows why he’d even answered your call in the first place, but you’re impossibly glad that he did. Gladder still that he hadn’t hung up on you the moment he’d realised why you were calling.

You scoff down a quick breakfast, before hopping into the shower. The scalding water’s a welcome relief, waking you up more than your coffee had and allowing you the space to think.

Kuguri’s got errands to run this morning, but he’d said you were welcome to stop by his place anytime. He’d insisted on it actually, telling you in no uncertain terms to pack an overnight bag.

‘Look, I’m probably being an overprotective asshole, alright, but I don’t want you there by yourself, so either you come here or I’m coming over there.’

And the thought that you’d need somebody there to protect you, that either one of your soulmates would do anything–

But it’s not so much about them, you think, but you. You’d been a mess when you’d called him, and despite how everything had gone down, Kuguri still cared about you – you can’t just turn those feelings off overnight – is it any wonder that you’d worried him?

Distantly, you register your phone going off a few more times as you busy yourself in washing your hair. You assume it’s Kuguri checking up on you, making sure that you’re alright – you pay it no mind, humming quietly as you reach for your conditioner.

And by the time you slip from your bathroom, wrapped in a big, fluffy towel it’s probably closer to mid-morning than you’d like. You don’t bother blow drying your hair or putting on makeup, instead heading to your room to get dressed and grab some clothes to take to Kuguri’s.

Except there’s a knocking at the door that stops you in your tracks.

You hadn’t heard the buzzer for the building’s main door go off, which meant that it was probably just your landlord stopping by, or one of your neighbours. You know the little girl who lives in the apartment next to yours likes to bake with her dad and sometimes drops off freshly made cookies and treats, so you hastily throw on enough clothes to pass as decent. 

“Coming,” you sing out, racing across the room to reach the door. 

Except when you throw it open, it’s not one of your neighbours standing out in your hallway, nor is it your elderly landlord. 

Akaashi and Bokuto crowd the empty space; Bokuto grinning widely, Akaashi’s dark eyes fixed on yours. 

“You weren’t answering your phone,” he murmurs, a faint frown tugging at his features as studies your face. “We were worried about you.”

And there’s so many things wrong with the fact that they’re here; least of all being how the hell they got into the building to begin with, but you can’t afford to think of any of that. You simply need to get them out of here without causing a fuss. Now.

They’re still your soulmates, you remind yourself as your heart rate picks up. They won’t do anything to hurt you. 

“I-I told you I needed space, please go,” you mutter, clutching so tightly at the edge of the door that your knuckles turn white. “Please,” you beg again when neither of them make a move to leave.

“I told you, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto says, his smile slipping in favour of a wounded pout, “She’s afraid of us. Her soulmates.”

And you don’t know what compels you to shake your head instead of just slamming the door in their faces, “N-no, I just–”

“She’s just skittish,” Akaashi interrupts, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Overwhelmed – this is all new to her. It’s okay, princess,” he says, addressing you this time with a teasing little smirk, “We’ll be gentle, okay? We’re going to take good care of you.”

It’s the final blow to your tentative politeness. As panic sinks its teeth into you, you skitter backwards, scrambling to shut the front door before they can get in–

Bokuto’s faster. They both are.

Stronger, too. 

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Where You At Kitten?

Summary- 1.2k Ransom Drysdale x You. You were quick to leave in the morning, a regular walk of shame habit for you. Shame Ransom woke up with his own issues that you could have helped him with.

Warnings- This little verse involves cheating on the reader's part. It is mentioned in this short fic. If that in any way bothers you, please don't read. Same couple as in You Can't Get Better Than A Thrombey Also male masturbation.

Chris Evans Masterlist

Ransom awoke in his city apartment almost feeling satisfied.

Almost.

He reached over in his over sized bed, hand brushing along the finest cotton sheets and feather pillows, to find the spot empty. A groan of utter disbelief and disgust came from the back of his throat. Of course you split while he was asleep.

It was the way you dealt with your guilt. Escape from him back to your perfect little life with that lawyer boyfriend of yours. What was his name?

Nate? Nick? Neil?

Neil… fucking pain in the ass, in his way Neil. If Ransom could be bothered, he would find out more about Neil to really fuck up his life. You were his girl, even when you weren't actually his girl.

Right now Ransom really could have benefited if you had just stayed because he woke up with a raging hard on that he would have happily used on you. Thoughts of last night made a lazy smirk upturn his mouth with satisfaction.

“Fuck Ransom, do it again.” You moan underneath him, your head thrown back into the pillows scattered around and tiny pleasure mewls pitching from parted lips.

Another surge, his cock pounding into your weeping cunt like he fucking owned you. “Think you deserve it again Kitten?” He stilled with a great strain, making you whine in disbelief.

His hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing enough to make him give a raspy groan at the sensation, his cock twitching.

Wanting you and having you were two separate things at the moment, so his hand had to do at the moment. He gave a light tug to his balls as his morning erection pressed against his stomach, swollen and throbbing with each firm squeeze he gave. It was a shame to not share this with you, he thought to himself as he tilted his head back, breathing in slowly to calm himself down.

Reaching over for his phone, he continued rubbing his palm up and down his cock to keep himself turned on and turned on the camera till it focused on him.

“Kitten, you parted without your morning fuck.” Ransom gritted out to the phone, smirking into it. “Let me show you what you are missing.”

His phone drifted down starting at his bobbing adam apple and the tendons in his neck flexing. Further down it followed heaving chest, his pecs starting to sheen slightly as he grunted out loud. “Fuck Kitten… if only you were here.”

The camera focused on his slightly folded belly, quivering with anticipation. Dusting of dark hairs led down his lower stomach, the grooves of his adonis belt were a sheer path to his hand wrapped around his cock.

Ransom was sure to angle the camera to sit between his thighs, full view of the throbbing vein that led to his swollen bright red tip just starting to lead cum that dribbled down his length, smearing himself in it.

He let his blue eyes focus on the camera propped between his thighs, perfect teeth nipping at his bottom lip as he grunted and groaned with the slight thrust of his hips fucking into his palm.

Of course, it was easy for him to picture you kneeling between his spread thighs with that excited grin you would get. Just picturing you rubbing his cock in your hands before tilting to push him between your breasts, your head dipped so your lips could catch his weeping tip with a smirk.

In the camera his lashes fluttered low on his cheeks when he started to jerk himself in a sloppier motion, coming close to his ending. HIs mouth went slack with a tilt of his head back, stretching out his neck to watch those popping tendons, tensing even more.

“FUCK!” he shouted as he sped up. The noises falling from him were rumbles of curses and deep groaning gasps.

His body went with the flow of pleasure, his muscular thighs quivered when the spiral of tension waved over him in pleasure, his balls tightened and his release spurted in thick ribbons to splash across his stomach and chest.

The release showed him sagging a bit, his hand slowing on his cock till he let go, laying against his thigh.

“Shit Kitten…” He shifted in the bed and reached over for a kleenex to wipe his hand off before reaching for his phone to leave you with one parting message. “How pretty would that have looked on your tongue this morning.” Ransom smirked at the phone while pressing back his dark hair from his forehead, lazing back into the pillow. “Or your hair… we will see later tonight if you come over.”

Letting the video end with a wink, he hit send, and knowing you would probably open it at work, unaware, he was left with a satisfying feeling. Getting up, Ransom made his way to the shower to really start his day working with Harlan.

You had managed to slip out early this morning, while Ransom was still passed out. This walk of shame is becoming all too familiar now. The doorman to his building didn't even look up anymore which you didn't know if that was worse than not. He had become so familiar with you sneaking out at three am, he didn't even pay attention.

Now you are doing your best to caffeinate and start your day, ready for endless meetings with the law firm about different projects going on. You were in for a long boring day trying to keep yourself awake enough to pay attention. Neil would be so engrossed in all this, he wouldn't be paying you any attention. A sigh escaped you as you stepped onto the elevator with other members of the firm.

A blessing and a curse meant that your addiction to Ransom would just be fed well over the next few weeks. Your thoughts drifted to the sin that somehow you still managed to make your life harder.

The rush he provided made you chide yourself for your weakness.

Of course, this was just the opportune moment for Ransom to send a message, his assigned beep chirping from your purse. Pulling it out, you saw he had sent a video. You didn't think much of it when you hit play, figuring it would be a mini-rant of his about you leaving when he was still asleep. You slid your finger against the small bar at the bottom to move the video along when it started with what looked like him fumbling with his phone.

It turned into more than that, a sinful noise escaped your phone as you went wide-eyed at the screen before you. Ransom was flushed in the camera while his large palm was wrapped around his cock, teeth pulling at the pale pink lip while he gleamed sinfully into the video, almost like he was looking directly at you. His tone was rasped when he rasped out.

“Where you at Kitten?”

Hurriedly you hit the mute button and stuffed your phone in your bag, cursing yourself at ever just assuming it was safe to push a button. Several of your higher-ups gave you a look before the silence became deafening.

When your floor finally came and you could step off, you rushed out, muttering to yourself. “That fucking asshole…”

Once you got to your desk, you ditched your bag and warily pulled out your phone. Sure to glance around it was safe, you turned the volume low and privately watched the rest of the video with a desire that would just sit with you the rest of the day.

Ransom Drysdale was an addiction you were going to get burned from again, you just knew it.

[readyforthegarden]

The Meetup

A/N: The follow-up to my favorite little Danny fic, 1-800-STUD is finally here! Thank you all for your patience, I hope you enjoy! (This is a work of fiction, Danny Wagner is not a phone sex operator. Please do not meet and hookup with random phone sex operators yall.)

Pairing: Danny Wagner x F!Reader

WC: 5212

Warnings: MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY! Smut, Oral (f!&m!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up, for the love of god you heathens)

💋 💋 💋

You stared at the text on your phone, your heartbeat racing. 

‘How would you feel about meeting in person?’

The text from Adonis was brave. Bold, even. Although you shouldn’t have been so surprised, he was the one that gave you his personal number one night after a call, and the two of you had been talking both intimately and normally for a few weeks now. You knew it was against the rules of his job, and he knew it too...but there was some sort of connection there, and it couldn’t be stopped.  Your late night trysts on the phone had slowly turned from sinful pleasures to small conversations. You’d found out that you were both from the same city, and couldn’t believe the happenstance. So many things in common, music, movies, only a few things came up you’d differed on.

Your thumbs twitched as you thought of how to answer. You didn't want to reply too fast, seem too eager if you said yes. But you didn't want to leave him hanging too long and drag it out if you said no. 

'Okay,' you thought to yourself. 'On the count of three, I reply. And whatever I say is the true answer.' you inhaled slowly, deeply, starting to count. 'One.....two....three.'your thumbs typed out their answer and hit reply.

'I would be open to it, yeah.' within seconds, a bubble popped up on the screen, showing Adonis typing back.

'How about dinner and drinks?' he asked and you had to admit, the idea of a whiskey sour to calm your nerves while meeting this man made you relax a little. 

‘Sure, I’d like that.’

‘Tonight?’ your heart stopped. Were you ready to meet this man tonight? You still had no clue what he looked like. Only his voice. What if he wasn’t who you pictured? He could be some old man, with a youthful voice, a bald patch on his head and a beer belly that hangs out from under his shirt, over the waist of his pants. He could be a serial killer, slowly earning your trust before he finally does you off. But your gut wasn’t flipping nervously like you were scared. It was excited, and you let yourself trust it.

‘Tonight would be good.’ you messaged back, then quickly typing again. ‘When and where?’

‘8pm, at that bar and grill on 4th sound good?’ you knew the exact place he was talking about, and nodded, even though he couldn’t see you.

‘It’s a date.’ you replied, instantly blushing at your presumption and going to type and correct yourself, when you noticed he’d reacted to the message, giving it a heart. You sighed, glancing at the clock and thinking about how long you’d have to let your hair set in your hot rollers to get the perfect waves for the evening, and set to work.

You were sat at the bar at 8:02pm, stirring your whiskey sour anxiously. Every time the door opened, you had to remind yourself to stay cool, and not snap your head over to stare down whomever was walking through it. You felt like a scared dog, a little shaky and easily startled, jumping a bit in your seat as a group of college kids walked in, the door slamming shut behind them. 

You’d told Adonis you’d be wearing a white sundress, which he’d responded that he’d think of you, an Angel, in nothing else but. But now as you glanced around the establishment, you felt silly in your cotton dress, while other women were wearing tight jeans and cute tops, or t-shirts that looked comfortable and still sexy.  You took a deep breath, one of thousands already this afternoon, and tried to stop psyching yourself out. You lifted your glass to your mouth, lips barely touching the rim when someone stepped into your peripheral vision.

“Is this seat taken?” you froze, recognizing his voice. You gave yourself one quick, small pep talk and turned towards him. Holy shit. He was the guy from the commercial, the one you’d been imagining the whole time. His smile was the first thing you noticed. A large, adorable grin with bright white teeth shining in the overhead lights at the bar. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled happily as he took in your face, while you set down your drink.  “Hello, Angel.”

“Adonis,” you breathed, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. He held out his hand and you placed yours in his, reveling in the strong, yet delicate grip of his hand as he shook yours. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” he pulled out the bar chair and took a seat, flagging down the bartender. He ordered his drink and while he waited for it, you both just kept looking over one another. “God, I….you’re more beautiful in person than I imagined.”

“Thanks,” you blushed. “I um, I didn’t expect it to actually be…you.” Adonis blushed. 

“It’s rare that commercial airs anymore, which I’m glad for.” he admitted. “Grocery shopping got weird for a little bit there.” you giggled and he smiled wider at that. “Your laugh sounds so much better in person.”

“Your voice does too.” you replied. You tried to subtly wipe your nervous, sweaty palms on the skirt of your dress, but he noticed.

“I’m nervous too, if it makes you feel better.” Adonis informed you, taking one of your hands in his. You felt a tingle in your hand at the contact, his fingers curling around yours. You could feel his were a little clammy too, and you felt a bit more at ease. When his drink came, he took a long sip of it. You bit your lip for a moment, staring down at the bar before looking back at him.

“Can I ask…” you trailed off, feeling silly for your question.

“You can ask me anything, Angel.” you nodded and took another breath.

“What’s your real name?” Adonis paused for a moment, and you thought the worst. Maybe he liked keeping codenames. Maybe he only wanted something super casual, and wasn’t remotely interested in sharing his real name with you, or learning yours. Your fears were subdued when he leaned in, like he was telling you a secret.

“My name is Daniel.” he winked. “You can call me Danny. Do I get the pleasure of knowing your name?” you leaned in just as he had, relishing in making the handsome man before you smile, and supplied your own real name. Danny hummed a pleased sound as he leaned back, taking you in again. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

The two of you sipped on your drinks, getting to know one another in person. Neither of you could keep your eyes from wandering over one another, and you hoped that he was liking what he was seeing as much as you were. Over the rest of the night, the two of you had found a small booth for yourselves, Danny sliding in next to you instead of across. You were flattered at the intimacy the smell of his cologne engulfing you in the small space. The conversations flowed easily between you two, so much so that the two of you completely forgot to order food, or more drinks, until the last call. 

“Oh god, I didn’t realize how late it was.” you sighed, checking the time on the clock above the bar. “I was having so much fun talking.”

“Me too.” Danny agreed, his arm staying around your shoulders. You couldn’t help but snuggle more into his side. “Just like on the phone.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. You let the silence rest between the two of you for a few moments before you spoke again. “W-would you want to come over?” Danny smiled down at you, a light blush crawling across his cheeks. “I just…I really am having a good time, and I’m not ready to say goodbye, yet.”

“I was going to ask the same thing.” Danny murmured. “Let me go settle the tab. Did you Uber here?” you confirmed his assumption with a nod and he smiled. “Order one for us while I pay?” you nodded again and were surprised when he leaned, in pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. You watched him in surprise as he pulled away with a wink and walked over to the bar. You pulled your phone from your purse, pulling up the ride-share app and requesting a ride, excited and nervous for the rest of the night to come.

“Okay, I wasn’t planning on having company, so I’m sorry in advance, my apartment is a little messy.” you gave Danny a nervous laugh as you unlocked and opened the door to your home. 

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Danny chuckled, following you inside, shutting the door and latching the lock for you. You put your purse on the small table by the door and turned on the lamp, allowing the small light to light up the room. “You have a nice place.”

“Thanks.” you smiled. You and Danny stood there, awkwardly staring at each other as the room filled up with tension. “Oh, um…are you hungry?”

“I am, a little, but you don’t have to cook or anything.”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to.” you waved your hands in front of you with a giggle. “I don’t have a whole lot, but I just got some fruit at the store this morning, we could have some of that?”

“That sounds good, actually.” you moved to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out the large bowl of mixed fruit you’d cut up that morning, grabbing two forks from your silverware drawer and going back to the living room. Danny was standing by the couch, looking at the painting you had over it on the wall. It was a simple painting, pink and white water lilies on a lake in the summer sun. You watched him for a moment before clearing your throat, gaining his attention once again. 

He came over, taking the bowl from your hands and setting it on the coffee table in front of your couch. You followed him with the forks still in hand, nervous all over again. Your mind couldn’t help but think that this man had gotten you off so many times without touching you, and here you were, offering him a meager fruit salad. You should have insisted on cooking something. Anything. The man deserved a five course meal.

“You coming?” you were broken from your thoughts by Danny’s voice, and though it wasn’t in the tone you were used to hearing those words in, you still felt a small fire ignite in your belly. You took the few quick steps to sit on the couch next to him, handing him a fork and offering him the first bite. Danny stabbed a piece of honeydew, putting it in his mouth and humming softly from the sweet fruit. You followed suit with piece of pineapple, and chewed as Danny started another conversation. You two talked between bites until the forks were forgotten in the bowl now between you on the couch as the two of you leaned back against the cushions. 

“I’m really glad you said yes tonight.” Danny said softly, gazing at you in the dim lamp light. The tension between you was still thick, an unspoken nervousness of where the night was really going to go settling between you. Neither wanted to be the one to broach the subject of whether or not you’d end up in bed together. On one hand, you’d been with each other many, many times already, albeit virtually. On the other hand, this was your first meeting…date, even. Was it too soon to want to jump into bed? To assume that was the end goal?

“Me too.” you breathed out, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “This has been really…amazing. I was scared that it wouldn’t be the same in person.” Danny reached over and took your hand in his, opening your palm and running his fingers across the delicate skin.

“I was too.” Danny admitted with a chuckle. “I almost didn’t ask, I didn’t want to lose any of the connection we have, you know?” you nodded. With his free hand, Danny reached into the fruit bowl, forgoing his fork and picking up a larger strawberry, bringing it to his lips and biting into it. The fruit must have been juicier than he expected; Danny hummed and you heard a sucking sound as he tried to keep the juices from spilling out his lips. He pulled the rest of the strawberry away, and you watched the faint, pink liquid trail from his bottom lip, down his chin. Before the droplet could fall, you reached your hand up, swiping it with your thumb, following the trail up to his lip, meaning to clean the sticky nectar from his skin. Without thinking, Danny leaned forward, capturing your thumb in his mouth and letting his tongue clean your finger. He watched you as you stared at his mouth, chest heaving already with shallow breaths. You squeezed your thighs together and shifted on the couch as you slowly pulled your hand away from him, your eyes finally flickering up to meet his.

It took all of a few seconds, the shifting of the bowl back to the coffee table by Danny as you slid across the cushion and onto his lap, straddling him and capturing his lips in a kiss. Both of you moaned at the contact, finally cutting through the thick air between you. His hands splayed across your back, bringing your body closer to his as your lips meshed together. Your own hands tangled into curls as your tongues met for the first time. You felt his fingers dig into your body, and you brought a hand out of his hair, cupping his face, responding that yes, this was real. You were both really touching one another, and it wasn’t just your imaginations.

You finally had to part, your lungs feeling like there were about to burst. You leaned your head back and Danny took the opportunity to trail hot, open mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck, littering your collarbone with small nips. You ground your hips down against him and felt him groan against your chest, the sound buzzing from his lips to your skin. You felt shifting and suddenly you were in the air, Danny holding you to his body and looking up at you from hooded eyes. 

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked, his voice low. You pointed down the hallway, then hooked your finger to the right, and Danny began carrying you that way, bumping the door open with his hip and walking towards your bed, setting you down gently on the foot of it. He knelt in front of you, but for a moment he let his eyes dart around the room, a smile gracing his face as he reached next to you, pulling a piece of fabric from your messy sheets. He held them up and you bit back a laugh, watching as he turned the pajama shorts over in his hands, admiring the small sushi pieces on them. “I knew these would be cute as hell.”

After a moment, he tossed them to the side, running his large hands up and down your legs, reveling in the fact that they fell open slightly, just from his touch as his fingertips grazed under the hem of your dress. He looked up at you again, watching you bite your lip.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight.” he murmured softly. “We can go back out there and watch a movie, or I can go home and you can go to bed if that’s what you want. I didn’t come here expecting anything more of you than you’re willing to offer. You are in control.” you took in his words, fighting the urge to just reach out and kiss him again. 

“I’ve spent so many nights wondering what you felt like.” you whispered. “What you tasted like. I want this, Danny.” Danny paused for a few moments, making sure you meant what you said before he gripped your thighs, pulling himself up and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Let me worship you the way I’ve talked about,” he breathed against your lips. “Let me show you all the things I’ve wanted to do to you since I first heard your voice.” you nodded and he kissed you harder before pulling away again, a small whimper of ‘please’ escaping your mouth. “Lean back for me.” you slowly lowered yourself to your elbows, watching has his hands started rubbing your legs again, inching up farther and farther. He let his palms cusp your knees, his fingers once again teasing the hemline of your dress. You shifted on the bed, trying to subtly move the dress up farther with your movements, but Danny was quick to catch on. “Patience, darling.” he whispered.

Danny took your sigh and leaned into your legs, pressing soft, lingering kisses to the sides of your knees, then slowly trailed them up your thigh, giving the plush areas small, gentle bites. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed up the skirt of your dress, getting ready to enjoy whatever pleasures awaited you, until you heard him tsk.

“Wha?” you glanced down at him, watching his fingers run over the thigh seam of your panties. He smirked up at you, a playful but disappointed look on his face.

“Panties?” he questioned, tugging the thin band and letting it softly snap back against your skin.  You stifled a laugh.

“I was not going to sit bare-ass on a dirty bar stool, sir.” you explained, rolling your eyes. “But if  a thin pair of panties are gonna hold you up, maybe I should’ve sent you home, then.” a spark lit behind Danny’s eyes at your words, gripping the waistband of your panties again and tugging them down your legs as you raised your hips.

“Nothing will ever stop me from giving you the pleasure you deserve.” Danny gets the clothing off of your body, tossing it into the darkness of your room and grabbing onto your hips, bringing you right to the very edge of the bed. He pushed you back to lean on your elbows again and bunched the skirt of your dress up, spreading your legs with his shoulders as he settled between them. He glanced up at you through his lashes, shaking his curls from his face. You watched him with bated breath, excitement bubbling up in your stomach as he situated himself. It was like slow motion, watching his tongue glide over his lips before making contact with your soaked core.

A shaky sigh left your mouth as Danny adjusted his arms beneath your legs, bringing them up to hang over his shoulders as he lapped his tongue against your clit, slowly, achingly. Danny let the tip of his tongue circle your clit adding pressure and retreating with a few soft licks directly to it, before repeating the process again and again. You reached out a shaky hand as Danny began alternating sucking on the tender bundle of nerves and licking it, tugging his face closer. You felt him smile against you and he buried his face deeper between your legs. You let your other arm slid out to the side, your back fully resting on your bed as you bucked your hips against Danny’s face. His face traveled a little lower, his tongue entering you, his nose now rubbing against you so deliciously as he tasted you. 

“Oh shit, right there Danny, please!” you whined, tugging on his curls, encouraging him with your moans. His index and middle fingers accompanied his tongue now and your back arched from the bed. The small voice in the back of your mind was in slight awe, you’d never arched your back that way, you’d only seen it in movies as over exaggerating actresses pretended to climax, you didn’t think it actually happened. “Danny, don’t stop!” You could feel the tightening bands in your stomach snap, and cried out, moaning a chorus of his name as he continued his movements, curling his fingers inside to hit that sweet spot. You rode the waves of your orgasm against him, not realizing the death grip you’d had on his hair until your hand unclenched as you came down, whispering an apology as you caught your breath.

“Don’t be sorry.” Danny breathed, climbing up your body and capturing your lips. You could taste yourself on his lips as they nearly glided off of yours, still coated with your slick. “Hearing you say my name like that was fucking heaven.” he kissed you again, and you tugged at the sweater he was wearing, trying to pull it over his head without breaking the kiss. Danny chuckled and sat up, his legs on either side of your body. He pulled the soft sweater over his head, taking the white t-shirt he wore under it with it, tossing it to the side. You reached forward, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his dark jeans, pulling down the zipper and reaching in, palming his large, hard cock through his boxer briefs.

Danny sucked in a sharp breath, bucking into your hand. You sat up the best you could with him over you, kissing his abdomen down to the thin strip of coarse hairs trailing down below the waistband of his boxer briefs. You felt his body shudder under your soft lips and felt a surge of confidence flow through you. Pulling your head back, you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“Lay down.” you murmured softly. Danny nodded, bending down and kissing you before rolling onto the bed, pushing down his jeans and letting you help him tug them off his body. You pulled at his boxer briefs, and his cock sprang up at attention. You hesitated, seeing the size of it, licking your lips nervously. Danny watched you measure him up, could see you mapping out your strategy and reached out, tapping your hand gently.

“You don’t have to,” he whispered. Your eyes snapped up to his and you shook your head. You took your hand from his, opening your palm under your mouth and spitting into it before reaching out for his cock, running your hand over it to lube it up. Danny hissed through his teeth, his head falling back as your palm rounded the head, and you smiled. 

“I said, I wanted to know what you tasted like,” you leaned over him, hand still working as you kissed along his sharp jaw. “You got to have a taste of me, it’s only fair I get one of you.” Danny nodded, his breath shuddering out as you kissed down his body, and finally let your lips make it to his cock, cupping you hand behind it to hold it in place as you have it a long, flat lick. You continued to tease him, slowly running your tongue up the vein on the underside of his shaft before taking the head in your mouth, giving the edge a few smaller, quicker kitten licks before rounding your tongue over it, making him shudder again. You adjusted your position, straddling one of his strong thighs and continued to bob your head as far as you could take him,  letting your spit-slicked hand work the rest of him. 

“Fuck baby, just like that,” his voice was low and gruff as his own hands now tangled in your hair, holding it back from your face in a messy, makeshift ponytail. You hollowed out your cheeks, the wet sucking sounds filling the room with breathy moans. You were starting to get a little sloppy with your rhythm, feeling yourself grind against the muscles of Danny’s thigh, moaning around him as your sensitive clit rubbed against him. Getting closer and closer to another release, you were suddenly pulled off of Danny with a loud pop, and you are breathing hard as you stared up at Danny.

“I don’t wanna-“ he swallowed roughly. “I was gonna…” you nodded, understanding what he was saying, and climbed up his body, licking into his panting mouth as he grabbed your waist. When you pulled back, he smiled up at you. “Look at you, my Angel in all white, doing the filthiest fucking things with that mouth.” 

“Take my dress off me, Danny.” he wasted no time in setting to the task, lifting it up and over your head as you raised your arms. He dropped the cotton material over the edge of the bed, and let his eyes hungrily roam your body. You saw a smirk on his lips as he reached up, gently flicking the crescent moon charm of your belly button piercing.  

“Just how I imagined it.” he breathed. “C’mere baby.” you leaned forward, letting him kiss you and his hand cradled the back of your head, the other holding your hip as he rolled you onto your back. The kisses weren’t as frenzied now, they were slower, more passionate. You could feel his hot, pulsing cock on your inner thigh as he held himself above you, and you whimpered when the head pressed against your soaking pussy. 

“Danny, please,” you sighed into his mouth. “I need it, I need you. I need to feel you inside me.” Danny nipped at your neck, sucking a mark into your skin. He reached down between your bodies, rubbing himself against your slick before pressing the head of his cock at your entrance. Your stomach fluttered with anticipation, the stretch of the tip alone making your walls clench. Danny slid in slowly, and once he was fully sheathed he paused, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “So amazing, so perfect.” he murmured. He opened his eyes and locked them with yours, beginning to pump his hips slowly. Your hands came to rest on his back, fingertips digging into the taught muscles. Danny kept a hand by your head, keeping himself steady, and the other on your calf, hooking it onto his hip and delving deeper at the new angle. You were already so close to your next orgasm, and you could tell the way Danny was biting his bottom lip he was holding back to get you there.

“Danny you feel so good,” you moaned into his ear, bringing up your other leg and wrapping them around his hips. “You fuck me so good, baby.” Danny grunted in your ear in response, his hips snapping into you faster and harder as you raised your hips to meet each thrust. “Gonna make me cum all over your cock Danny? Just like you dreamed?”

“Fuck…yes…” he groaned through grit teeth. “‘nd I’m gonna fill you up just like you want me to, just like you told me.” you whined and pulled his body closer, but he backed away briefly, snaking his hand between your bodies again and letting his calloused thumb find your clit, rubbing harsh quick circles and making you roll your eyes in the back of your head, as the coils in your stomach tightened again, and your breathing became more and more shallow. 

Danny watched your body writhe beneath him, savoring every whimper and moan falling from your lips, bucking his hips with a little more fervor when his name was included. 

“Christ, you’re so beautiful,” he brushed your hair from your face, watching your brows furrow and your lower lip tremble as you began to cum, tightening your grip on him. “So fucking beautiful.” your back arched off the mattress again, and he took the opportunity to close his lips around the hardened nipple of your right breast, sucking and flicking it before moving to the next one, repeating the ministration as you grabbed the back of his head, tugging at the curls again and moaning his name louder than before. “Fuck, I’m there, baby, I’m cumming.” His breath came out in sharp staccato pants as he ground his hips against yours and you felt him filling you up with his warmth. He moved his head to the crook of your neck, resting there as his body fell limp against yours. 

His weight was crushing, but you didn’t care. You let him sink into your body, and reveled in the fact that it felt like he fit perfectly, like he was supposed to be there. After a few minutes, which felt too short, he peeled his sweat covered body from yours, and quietly asked where the bathroom was. You pointed and lazily said to the left, out the door, and he nodded, padding across your room and opening the door, disappearing into the dim hallway of your apartment. Your head was still cloudy with post-orgasm haze, and you let your eyes fall closed. It wasn’t until you felt a damp, warm fabric against your pussy that your eyes opened, and you looked down to see Danny gently cleaning you. 

“Made a bit of a mess.” he smiled softly, making you chuckle. When he was satisfied with his clean-up, he looked around, spotting your hamper and hanging the cloth over the edge to dry before coming back over. You found the strength to sit up, your tired body protesting, but as Danny sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you into deep kiss, you knew you’d deal with the soreness if it meant being close to him.

“That was….incredible.” you murmured as you pulled away. “I don’t think I can go back to the phone.” Danny grinned, peppering your face with gentle kisses. 

“I don’t either.” he agreed. “Can I tell you something?” your face felt hot all of a sudden, your stomach twisting with instant nerves that he was going to tell you he actually hated everything and never wanted to see you again.

“S-Sure.” you breathed.

“I quit.” Danny admitted. Your brow furrowed, head tilted as you thought of his words. “I quit the phone sex job after talking to you like, the third or fourth time. It felt….wrong to talk like that with others when all I wanted was you.”

“Really?” you bit your cheek to stop from smiling. “You didn’t have to…I understood, you know.”

“I wanted to.” Danny took your hand in his and squeezed it. “You are the only one who gets Adonis from now on.” you crinkled your nose as you moved to kneel next to him, grabbing his face in your hands and looking him in the eyes.

“Adonis is nice, but I prefer Danny.” you whispered, kissing him gently. “You can still call me Angel, though. I like that.”

“Oh you do?” Danny teased, kissing you and pushing you back onto the bed while doing so, wrapping his arms around you and laying you both on your sides, tangling your legs together and pulling you close. “My sweet, filthy sexy Angel.”

“Mm, don’t start a second round you can’t finish, Danny.” you mumbled against his lips.

“I’ll show you what I can finish.”

Taglist: @lunaindigoraven @lvnterninthenight @allieisacrybaby @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvf @gretavanfleetposts @gardenofgreta @streamsofstardust @joshkiszkas @jakewhorecore @fictional-duchess @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @josiee-gvf @ascendingtostardust @joshkiszkatoothgap @andeejoness @gardensgatedaisy @kkdarling @demonrat444 @teddiie @writingcold @livinginthevioletsounds @dannyandthekiszkas @gretavanbestie @samkooszka

Danny Taglist: @gretavanslut

[beezleberry-breakie]

Smutty: Max x Holly

Disclaimer: I do not own Max or BloodLust Devotion. They belong to @hotpinkmoon

Warnings: smut, light gore, and confusion ˶⚈Ɛ⚈˵. Enjoy~

The first thing you heard out of your hazy darkness were moans and a splatter of flesh. You flinched, head pounding heavy to the sounds that littered around you. What was going on? There was a gap in your memory that led you here. Why did you feel so numb? You tried raising your head only for it to fall back down, chin rolling against your chest. Ugh, it all was just so dizzying, all the sounds muffled by the now growing pain. You gave a longer groan, where the hell were you?

"Awake now?", a choked sultry moan broke the thought, "O-ooh goodie".

Puzzlement filled your brain as you tried grasping at straws to connect this familiar voice. To still try to remember how the hell you got to your current predicament. You flinched when the sounds of skin slapping and reoccurring moans grew louder, making the throb in your head hit a fever pitch.

"S-st-", you licked your chapped lips, god your throat was so dry, how long have you been out? You tried swallowing any reservoir of spit from your cotton mouth, but no hope. You wanted to cry, but even that felt painful to bring the droplets to your eyes.

"Now we can't have that", the grip on your hair had pain suddenly flooding through your system. A shrill groan broke from your throat, the muscles in your neck screaming for release from the position it was forced into. You tried fighting against the rough movement that grip had, but was met with laughter that made your bones throb. The tears finally fell, helping to focus your eyes as they gazed upon the man before you.

"M-M-Max?!".

The auburn male gave a vicious smile at the mention of his name.

"Nice of you to join us Y/N", Max tightened the grip on your hair until he deemed that you were smart enough to understand what he wanted. Your eyes blinked rapidly when clarity came back to your vision and you finally felt enough strength to straighten up. Max hummed, face the picture of boredom as his crimson eyes examined his fingers before flicking the appendages as if to rid them of something filthy.

You didn’t understand why he was here with you, coherent even, in this room. Weren’t you just having dinner with him and your friends? Enjoying the night, smooching up to the Adonis in front of you, basking in his heavenly glory. It was going all so well, your little group had a plan to remind Max of his true faithful devoted fans, to remind him that he’d be better to rid himself of Holly, and to just bless their little circle. Love them as much they loved him. You even believed he was warming up to the thought when you slyly mocked Holly, using Cherri to whisper all of the spotted cow’s short comings. How disfigured her disease made her, how unattractive, desperate, and too clingy she was for him.

And Max ate it all up, the sweet smile not once leaving his face as you or your friends were bold enough to gossip about Holly openly. Telling him how it was such a noble deed for him to pity such a sorrowful bitch. The scheme was working exactly how you all wanted it, laughter, cheers, and delight just lighting up your night. Yet, your current situation was screaming that something went very, very, VERY wrong.

You tried to take a deep full breath, only to be met with your chest burning at the demand, a building pressure bubbling between your ribs. You were struggling to form words with the pain, with the restriction your ribs granted. “Max, p-p-p-please. Hel-“, you were coughing up strings of blood, fuck it hurt. “Help me”. A pregnant pause before Max snorted in laughter at your plea, mocking your pathetic begging.

“Oh no no no Süße”, he had turned around, slowly striding to the middle of the room, crimson eyes aglow in the fading dark, “you see, I only meant to keep you alive long enough to watch, meine Liebe has already decided your fate”. At the mere mention of whatever his Liebe was, you had noticed a rapid change to Max’s complexion, markings painting his skin, breathing coming in slow shudders. You blanched.

Fuck. In your haze of confusion you refused to acknowledge the smell of copper saturating the air and the sounds of skin on skin, but you saw it now laid bare in-front of you like a lamb to slaughter. Max was covered in blood. Splatters of it littering his abdomen and face, his hands slathered in the liquid, excess dripping to the floor. You fought tears as your throat burned to keep the vomit down. This wasn’t happening. Where were your friends?! Why out of everyone was he accosting you?

During your rushing thoughts of whys and dis-believements, Max had approached a squirming body in the center of the room, close enough for his fingers to soothingly, tactfully trace every stray curl that stuck to their blushing face. The moans that left their lips was explicit, borderline on sinful with the words that dribbled out. You stopped sniveling to pause, eyes trying to focus on who this other person was. At least you prayed it was a person. With everything going wrong, you were unsure of what you’re experiencing was even reality. Maybe it was some sick nightmare you were having due to eating cheese before bed.

Though it took momentous energy to keep your head up, you peered, trying with everything you had to decipher who Max had his fingers knuckle deep in. Their moans increasing in volume with each steady stroke he provided. Though Max’s back blocked your view of the person’s upper body, it almost felt like he deliberately left a prefect window to display their velvet pussy with their quivering hole seeming to form perfectly around his fingers. Whoever they were, they obviously enjoyed every pleasurable second that passed between the two.

Their fingers kneaded fiercely in his bright hair, legs tightening around Max’s middle from the increasing pressure of pleasure he pumped into their core. Moans incoherently chanting and switching from telling the auburn god of their deep love for him to begging to let them cum, so they could be released from the overtightened coil in their stomach. His answer was to tease them ever so sweetly, tooth achingly so, his fingers slowing down their movements to let his thumb circle harshly against a swollen throbbing clit. Choked moans echoed into the air at the response, his name sprouting from their lips in lustful prayer.

What were you being forced to watch? Was this some sort of ritual? A sexual sacrifice? Maybe you were getting somehow blessed by Max? Was this a haze, a strange fucking haze that Max bestowed onto only his true blue friends? Yes! Yes! That had to be it, you were the only other person in the room, your body unshackled as if they meant you to be able to move freely. Though any feelings of being able to move was met with numb indifference, but you were free none the less. Oh how kind Max was to bring you into his inner circle, to trust you with this deep dark secret.

A long moan, your mind focused back, Max seemed to finally grant the other’s release. His fingers never ceasing their rhythm of pumping, curling then uncurling against the spongy spot inside. His face cradled in the crook of their neck, lips attaching to suck patches of purple and red in his wake. Any unblemished portion left over, Max had his teeth sinking into the the flesh, letting his tongue dance with any droplets of blood that leaked through. Max soon began moaning along with them, his other arm encircling across his partner’s back to tightly press their naked form against his, leaving no trace of space between.

“Fuck yes Holly~”, Max started rutting, hips matching the strokes he pushed into Holly, whom had started to buck her own hips against his fingers, body seeking any form to catch release. “Just like that Holly”, his eyes rolled, hips stuttering as he felt his leaking cock smother between their bodies, “Fuck me just like that!”, his hips were stuttering irregularly. They both had seemed close to exhaustion, as if they had been emptying everything continuously from their bodies for the last couple of hours. How long have they been going at it? Any thought of time was impossible to tell in this room.

Max gave a deep drawn out groan as they both had came in unison. Holly’s nails trailing done his back, his name a mantra on her lips. Her pussy pulsing copious amounts of intermingling cum that covered his twitching fingers. “Such a good girl for me”, he slowed his thrusting hips and removed his head from her neck to place short kisses to the corner of Holly’s mouth. A love sick grin stained on his red lips.

You blinked and swore that if you could feel it, your face would be hot as the sun seeing such an intimate interaction. The fuck did you just witness? There had to be a reason for this current madness. Between the two of them, you noticed that Holly didn’t have a single drop of blood on her. As if she was bathed and cleaned and prevented from getting sullied before stepping foot into this desolate room. Maybe you could appeal to her, maybe she didn’t understand the haze that Max was putting you both through. A weakened smile tried to form on your cracked lips, begging whatever gods listening to make you look as pitiful as possible. This type of manipulation always worked on Holly.

“H-Holly, do you know what’s going on?”, gods you sounded pathetic. Good, you needed to act ignorant enough so this idiot would help you out. Making a fool out of herself would be even better, just so Max could see you were a proper match. Holly’s glazed eyes had snapped into focus at your question, any sort of emotion she held previously erased from her face. Max, on the other hand, began kissing each bite and love mark he painted onto her neck, ignoring whatever bullshit you were about to spew. His bloodied cum stained fingers pinching and rolling one of Holly’s already pert nipples. He couldn’t care to your pleas as he had better things to do; better things to worship.

She gave a shudder to his actions, suddenly shy as she bit her lip to keep any moans from escaping. Max not taking kindly to the disobedience, sunk his teeth back down into her sore neck, causing Holly to groan quietly in pain. He whispered to her, while licking any seeping blood from her wound, whispered in French, demanding that she answer you. She hesitated, seeming to find the right words, her fingers absently dancing in the flames of his hair, almost as if a common habit. How long had they been together? You were starting to grow nervous.

“Yes, I know”. You stared at Holly questioningly as if the words didn’t fully register. She knew? So she was already within Max’s inner circle, whispering whatever nonsense in his ear to get where she is now? Maybe she’s low on his totem pole? Your disillusioned brain tried coming with all sorts of scenarios that could put Holly where she was. “C-co-“, you swallowed nervously, “come on Holly, help me out here”, a strained smile, “I’ve always been there for you. We-we’re friends remember?”. You wanted to throw up even at the notion. This bitch meant nothing to you, just a means to an end.

It seems your false declaration of friendship had cause a wave of anger to flare in the air. Max ceased any motions on Holly’s skin to turn and glare at you, eyes now glowing brighter than hot coal, making your skin feel repeatedly struck by a hot poker. What the hell kind of look was that? You were so sure that your sickeningly sweet lie wouldn’t be noticed. You manipulated your way all the way to the top, into Holly’s life, her money, her time, and you’d yet to ever fall. How was it that Max seemed to understand everything that was falling from your lips. As if he came to the conclusion that you were as low as dirt, body muddled with parasites, and that you were never going to be anything but stupid sheep.

Yet he sighed. As if your presence had become nothing but a mere annoying gnat that stuck around much too long. “My love”, Max garnered for Holly’s attention, lips meeting hers in a tender kiss. “Let’s go”.

Let’s go? Let’s go where, surly they weren’t going to leave you in this god forsaken room?! You had too much to give Max, and even Holly, if your god deemed it so. You began begging, dry lips stuttering over words, tongue grown heavy to the constant abuse you put it through to form sentences. This can’t be it. They couldn’t leave you!

You continued to babble your words, your pleads to not be left alone falling on deaf ears as Max and Holly advanced towards you. His fingers interlaced lovingly through hers, his lips tapping on each of her fingertips, like they were in their own world on some sort of sick twisted date.

Max tsk’d at your wretched pleas, the same soft smile that you fell in love with, now sinister in your last moments. “It’s cute that you think begging would help”, he had pulled Holly in front of him positioning them both to kneel close between your outstretched legs. “But I told you, I only kept you alive to give you one more show”, Max leaned out your peripheral vision to grab an item, “My beloved cutie was the one who decided your fate, long ago”. He returned back with a large sacrificial golden blade twirling between his fingers. You froze. Please no. “and now-“, he smiled again handing the blade to Holly whose look of unwavering determination scared you. You gave one last final plead. Full fear plugging into every word you spoke, as sobs kept choking you up, movement from any of your extremities refusing to listen.

“No, wait! Please let’s talk about this!”

“Bon appetit”.

The tip of the knife sliced through your sternum as if you were made of butter. The action burned like fire scorching you from the inside, as Holly dug the blade to the hilt and forced the weapon down your stomach, your blood and evisera spilling over her body like a chocolate fountain. You could only take gurgled breaths, severe pain unconsciously jolting your body at the foreign feeling of delicate fingers pulling, eviserating, extracting your organs from out your torso. This was it. Tears flowed down your cheeks as you watched Holly pull a hunk of muscle, a beating muscle, out of your chest. Eyes soon glowing red like hot coal, matching the same burning intensity that Max had whenever he looked at you. You cried harder, blood climbing into your constricted throat, choking you slowly. So he knew all along. The whole time, this was what Max was plotting. Before you were finally granted of greeting the cold darkness, Holly had sunk her teeth into your beating heart as Max watched with rapt appetite. His tongue licking his lips in hunger.

Happy Halloween(˘ڡ˘ς)

[blahkugo]

Sleepless

Shouta Aizawa X Reader (BNHA)

Warnings: 18+, bondage, bratty rc, over-stimulation, umm it’s just pure filth sandwiched between some fluff 

Word Count: 3.9k

A good night’s rest? You’ve never heard of her! 

“At least take off your heels before you throw yourself into bed,” your boyfriend’s voice rings out, still deeply agitated from a long night of feigned smiles and interest. You know that tone well— the exasperated sigh typically saved for his students at U.A— but the room is spinning too fast for you to take heed of his reprimand. 

“M’too tired,” you slur your words, face down against your mattress. 

The two of you had been at a pro-hero gala, or as Shouta called it, a “gaudy show of riches for politicians and government dickheads.” It had taken almost all of your energy, and a lot of homemade dishes, to persuade him to accept the invitation; however, he had followed through. He behaved properly all night, smiled and socialized with every partygoer that approached you, and even ensured the vicious insults on the tip of his tongue were whispered into your ears only after each person had turned away. You deemed the night a success, despite waving off Shouta’s warnings about that fourth glass of champagne you downed. 

“You’re going to get our covers dirty, idiot.” You can’t help but feel your heart flutter at that word— our. Be it the hundredth or thousandth time, you don’t think you’ll ever get over hearing him refer to the two of you as one. It had taken years for him to warm up to you, after all. While he considers it endearing now, you’re positive Shouta had initially found your constant laughter and positive nature unbearable, thinking of you as simply another nuisance to avoid; never had he met someone who reduced his usual threatening tone to something playful or entertaining. And little did either of you know, he would slowly come to adore the way his scolding amused you. 

No amount of persuasion from his students or other heroes can convince you Shouta is actually intimidating. If anything, his constant stoicism only compels you to misbehave more. You love pressing his buttons, take pleasure in watching him get riled up and lose his calm demeanor. But as of this very moment, you’re simply too tired, and a bit too tipsy, to play along. You wave off his words with a flick of your wrist, only to feel a tug at your ankle. 

“Wha–” 

“Stop squirming. I’m trying to take them off,” he struggles with the straps woven intricately up your calves, “damned things are more tangled than my cloth.” When he finally removes them, you feel the pads of his fingertips graze your legs softly. Shocks travel your entire body as he pays special attention to the indents adorning your skin— drawbacks of the tight laces that are quite easy to disregard when they urge him to touch you so sweetly. 

Shouta stalks away for a moment, only to return with a cotton pad and makeup remover. You’re surprised he even knows what products to use, though you know you shouldn’t be. He has spent countless minutes watching you complete your night routine intently, though usually his stare is paired with a sleepy grumble to hurry up and join him in bed. 

He shifts you into a sitting position, wiping tenderly at your cheek while you pull off your false lashes.

“Those are fake?” He snorts, baffled. 

“Mhhm, I’m prettier without them, right?” You poke fun at him, knowing he’ll ignore the cheesy question. A faint heat rises on his cheeks. 

“Shut up and put this on,” he nudges one of his t-shirts into your arms before he slides your strapless dress down your body. Even with your eyes half-shut, you can feel his charged stare ogling every hill and valley of your naked form. His fingers barely skim you— a purposeful maneuver to focus on the task at hand— but your body jerks into his grasp, keen for more. Sleepy or not, you’d never waste an opportunity for a quickie. You know just how swiftly a few words and caresses on his part could have you bucking and sobbing, like putty in his han– “(Y/N), stop. You’re drunk and half-asleep.” 

“Only tipsy and a quarter asleep, thank you very much.” Your eyes flutter open to see the beginnings of a smile touch his lips, but he just barely holds it back. He’s trying his damn hardest to remain stern, how cute. “Shou,” you mewl, elongating his name in the hopes that he’ll budge.

“Don’t pout at me,” he taps a chiding finger against your bottom lip, “the answer is no. I still have work to do.” Ignoring your whined protests, Shouta walks out of the bedroom. Seconds later, you hear his office door shut, a sign that he’ll be in there long into the night. 

Any inkling of sleepiness your body possessed is gone without a trace, now feeling nothing but an intense heat coursing the skin your boyfriend brushed, and the alcohol left running through your veins only intensifies that warmth. You turn yourself over in bed, naively will yourself to succumb to sleep and deal with the ache tomorrow; however, your body has other plans. Your thighs press together on their own, desperate for any sort of relief to quell the throbbing between your legs, but it’s no use. Looks like you’re getting up. 

With each step towards his office, you find yourself more impassioned. Who does Shou think he is anyways, leaving you alone in such a needy state? It’s not fair. He gives you the slightest taste of his touch and then cruelly rips it away. So if anything, it’s his fault that your body won’t rest until completely appeased— until he soothes the burn. Besides, you’ll be damned if you’re going to allow him the pleasure of hearing your moans through the thin walls knowing he goaded you into touching yourself.

Upon walking through the door of his workspace, you’re greeted with the sight of your boyfriend, the stealthy pro-hero, seated ever-so casually at his desk. He has a hand pressed adamantly against his temple and his hair up in a messy half-bun. So badly do you want to run your hands through it, tug the clip off so you can watch those beautiful, dark locks tumble down his shoulders. You always catch yourself silently hoping for a piece to fall in his eyes so that you can reach out and tuck it behind his ear, delighted when you have any excuse to stroke the soft waves between your fingertips.

“Shou,” you mumble, one hand rubbing at lidded eyes. The white glow of the computer screen washes over him as he turns to you, and you feel your breath hitch again at the Adonis in front of you. 

He’s opted out of wearing any sort of top. Instead, gray joggers hang low on his hips, allowing you to feast your eyes on his lean chest and softly sculpted v-lines. A dark line of hair trails down into his pants, and you feel your mouth water at the idea of licking a long stripe up his navel. 

“Can’t sleep.” You’re aware it comes out a whine, don’t care to correct your tone because it may just convince him to join you in bed. He rolls his eyes, your name flowing off his tongue with a low sigh— music to your ears. 

“I have work to catch up on since somebody forced me to go to that stupid gala,” the accusation is probably sincere, but you smile anyways. 

“Please,” there’s that whine again, “just five minutes.” This time your words are accompanied by a quick yank at the hem of your t-shirt. Your cleavage makes an appearance, and when you see his eyes wander up towards the supple globes— tongue just barely poking out to slide across his bottom lip— you know you’ve got him beat. He mutters under his breath, but the only words you catch are something along the lines of ‘pampered brat’. 

Well, spoiled or not your methods work, and he’s the one indulging your whims anyways. Being curled up against Shouta’s sturdy chest, you find the fatigue of a long night creeping up on you once again. His close proximity is enough to relax you; all of your senses are engulfed in his presence, saturated with him. Your body gladly welcomes his scent with every inhale— clean laundry, aftershave, and something a bit woodier that can only be described as ‘Shouta’. Though he shaved this morning, newly grown stubble scruffs against you every time you nuzzle against his jaw. Slender fingers tangle in your hair, smoothing lazy circles into your scalp. And with your ear pressed to his chest, you realize the slow, steady drum of his heartbeat just might actually lull you into a deep sleep. 

But that’s all before you hitch a leg around his hip to pull him closer. At the sensation of your heat nudged tightly against him, you feel his heartbeat rise rapidly. If any thoughts of sleep linger in your mind, the prospect of riling Shouta up— and perhaps securing an orgasm or two in the process— throws them out the window once again. 

Your fingertips begin to caress his shoulders subtly, ear still pressed to his chest to listen for any jumps in his rhythm. The less he notices your movements, the easier it’ll be to overwhelm him all at once. When your fingers don’t incite any noticeable response, you run them through his hair instead. At the same time, you feign discomfort at the position you’re in and twist your hips slightly, making sure to press your core against him harder. You feel his breath hitch under you, and then your hair being jerked harshly. 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he forces you to look up at his cloudy eyes, always ringed with darkness no matter how much rest he receives. Caught. You flash him your sweetest pout, gazing up at him through dainty lashes. A slight ‘hm?’ leaves your lips, but within seconds, they’re attached to his neck, shamelessly kissing and nibbling at the sweet spot near his jaw. “If you’re not going to behave on your own, I’ll make you.” Your thighs tighten around his hips, goosebumps trailing your arms at the clear-cut threat.

“Do it then,” you urge between kisses, now peppering them up his jaw. Your teeth kiss the shell of his ear before you whisper, “or I’ll just keep misbehaving, daddy.” 

In an instant, your face is shoved into the mattress, arms crossed behind your back with Shouta’s cock straining against you through his pants. Rigid cotton brushes against your folds and you realize that perhaps he was expecting this turn of events more than he let on, because the fucker never bothered giving you a change of underwear. 

“You’re such a needy slut,” he spits, heated breath fanning your neck while he tightens his grasp around your wrists. “Can’t go one night without getting me worked up, huh?” His free hand darts under your shirt, now kneading and pinching at your ass. 

“Nope,” you bite back, always ecstatic to provide sassy retorts, especially when he’s seething like this. 

A stinging pain travels your body when he slaps the globe of your ass. Once, twice, five times, each spanking invoking a louder gasp until tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

“Are you done acting up?” Shouta’s tone is slow and composed, almost disinterested. If not for his heaving chest pressed against your back, you would believe him unaffected by the punishment. 

You, on the other hand, are very obviously flustered. Tears stream down your face freely now, and you’re positive the spanking has left a blazing handprint on your cheek as a reminder for days to come. Shouta gives you a final, petty love tap to shake you out of your thoughts. “I don’t have all night.” 

But you’re left unsatisfied, the throbbing between your thighs only worsened by his harsh welts and complete neglect of your clit. He hasn’t made a single motion towards your glistening cunt, probably won’t ever if you simply take his discipline lying down. 

“What if I’m not?” The words leave your mouth hesitantly, face turning to stare back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. He doesn’t say a word, his own eyes narrowing and lips quivering into a disgusted scowl. Even though you’ve asked for this, know exactly what situation you’ve gotten yourself into, your heart quickens at the thrill of seeing your partner so worked up. He may not be outwardly angry— Shouta has always been a man who prefers quick, biting remarks over piercing screams and smashing glass— but his mannerisms tell you everything you need to know. It’s going to be a long, sleepless night.

You feel the tight, unforgiving fabric knotted around your body before you’re even aware of what’s happening. Nimble fingers quickly wrap your arms in place. Then, your legs are bent at the knees and tied securely to your wrists. Only your taut midriff and breasts touch the mattress, leaving your sopping core exposed, no way to flail or deny him entrance. You’re his to do whatever he pleases with.

“Behave.” He wraps your hair around his wide palm and yanks hard, a pained cry leaving you at the prickling in your scalp. His fingers graze your slit, but never touch you where you need him. It’s absolutely maddening. You buck into him to no avail— the cloth wraps too firmly around your limbs. 

“Shou, I– I, please,” you’re practically sobbing, his name leaving your lips over and over like a prayer. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve angered him. 

“Who said you could speak?” He tugs harder on your locks. The motion rocks your skull, all nerves standing on end. It fucking hurts, but the action has your slit quivering all the same. “Are you going to be a good little whore now?” 

“Yes, Shou.” The response wins you a sharp slap to the ass, the sore cheek. You suppress a loud wail, correcting yourself quickly. “Y-Yes daddy, I’ll behave.” He doesn’t respond, only lets out a low growl and loosens his grip on your hair. 

Then, his presence is gone. He’s moved off the bed, and your cunt pulsates at the number of delicious things he may do next. 

A slam rings out from your bedside dresser and he’s back within seconds. Something foreign, hard and long,  is pressed against your tight hole. No stretching, no warning, he simply sinks the toy into your slick cunt. After a few merciless thrusts you’re whimpering softly, choking back pleas. If he wanted you to beg, you’d know it. 

“Is this what you wanted?” The dildo is driven into you faster. “Is this what you were grinding like a bitch in heat for?” His words are spit like venom, tone disappointed— appalled— with you, but it only fuels your steady ascension to orgasm. You’re teetering closer and closer to the edge, but you just need a bit more. His cock, a finger on your clit, anything. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” You can’t help the onslaught of moans that spill from your lips in between pants. His hands begin kneading at your ass again, right cheek still flaming with every touch. If he’d only remove the bindings, now digging tightly into your wrists and ankles, you’d be able to hump back onto the toy as you so desperately wish to. 

He stills all at once, leaving you distraught and gasping. If you cry out, you’ll only be met with harsh reprimands. You want to sob— for his touch, for a break, for anything to soothe the ache in your core. 

You hear it before you feel it.

A small buzzing noise as something is clicked on. Then, vibrations wracking your insides, your clit— a slew of pleasure as the dildo pulses. You sigh loudly, that stubborn itch finally being appeased by the pressure of the toy. 

“Is my pretty little slut enjoying herself?” Shouta laughs behind you, voice still cold and filled with loathing. It’s as though he’s repulsed by your desire, your ceaseless need for him. You mewl loudly at the thought. “Mhm, and you’re going to continue enjoying yourself,” you feel the bed dip as he steps away, “until I finish my work.”

The fucking bastard. He’s leaving you tied up and helpless with a sex toy on the highest setting. He knows you’ll be a drooling mess for him, probably only half-conscious, by the time he’s back.

“N- no Shou, please.” Your protests do nothing to sway him. He simply snickers and walks out of the bedroom, leaving you to writhe and wail on your own. And God, does it feel good. Your stomach pulls taut as you rut against the bed like– like an animal. In a constant cycle of edging and ebbing, your orgasms build and build and build until you’re hit full force, only to begin all over again. It’s equal parts satisfying and unfulfilling, because fuck, do you just want your boyfriend’s cock inside you. It’s all you can think of— his warmth, his hands roaming your body, sweet, degrading nothings whispered into your ear while he pounds into you.

You lose track of time, aren’t even sure at this point whether your body is spasming or simply attempting to dispel the thick length inside you. The pleasure has turned to an entirely different ache, swollen clit now abused by the constant vibrations. Your voice is run hoarse, face carved into a permanent wince. And despite your attempts to stay quiet, chokes and gasps still rip through your throat. Even Shouta’s cloth is soaked through with the scorching sweat enveloping your body.  

Though absolutely exhausted, you’re conscious enough to hear his quick steps as he makes his way to the bedroom. You can sense the smirk plastered across his face without even seeing it. 

“Tired out?” Fingertips ghost over the cloth and across your painfully numb calves, nerves jumping at the feeling. “Ah’, you’ve soaked the bedspread.” A fierce blush runs across your skin, humiliated at the sight you must seem to him— a drooling, high-strung mess. He either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore the way your body shakes at every prod. 

All you can do is let out a meager ‘Mmph’, your brain too scrambled to form anything close to words, let alone coherent sentences. “If you use your words, I’ll consider taking the toy out.” Shouta’s ruthless; he knows every inch of your body, your reactions, like the back of his hand. Of course he’d ask you to use your words. He lives to watch you come undone, thrives off the pain etched onto your features. 

“Please,” the request is drawn out— paused midway to let loose another gasp— and dripping in desperation. “I can’t– I just-”  It’s all you can manage in your state. 

“Seems you’ve been fucked stupid,” he chuckles darkly, though the vibrations wracking your cunt finally come to a halt and the dildo is swiftly removed. Your core clenches at the emptiness. “But I haven’t had the chance to stuff this tight little pussy full,” he slaps a harsh palm against your slit, making sure to wipe the slick that now coats his palm all across your cheek. If you weren’t aware of how soaked you were before, Shouta makes damn sure that you do now. The most you can work out in response is a feeble squeak. 

One of Shouta’s hands strokes at your matted hair from behind, agile fingers tidying the disheveled strands. The other rubs harsh circles on your clit; you twitch incessantly, sparks running through every inch of your body. “There’s that pained little face I love,” he grabs at your cheeks roughly, forcing your lips into a ‘o’ while grinding into your calf. “Fuck.”

Your legs and arms slump onto the mattress as soon as the cloth is unbound. Every muscle in your body aches with overuse; numbness buzzes through the limbs that were strung together for God knows how long. 

Your boyfriend— sadist that he fucking is— thrusts himself into you without warning. Sure, you’ve been stretched by the toy, but your poor slit is so overworked by previous orgasms that even the slightest hint of friction invokes senseless blubbering, your tongue lolling to the side in defeat. Wet, harsh slaps of skin against skin sweep the room, mixed with cries of ‘daddy,’ ‘please,’ and senseless nothings.

“Wanna see you cum.” It’s an order more than a request, grunted into the crook of your neck. His chest flattens against your back. It should feel suffocating, should feel disgusting, considering your body is gleaming with hours worth of perspiration, but you’re enamored with the warmth— engrossed by the way your skin sizzles at his touch. His fingers are secured at your hips, propping your ass in the air and pulling it against him with every piercing thrust. 

“N- no, can’t,” cheek still buried into the mattress, you muster whatever strength you have left and grip at his slick bicep behind you. He simply swats your hand away, takes your wrist between his slender fingers, and presses it into the bed. His thumb caresses the marks left by the cloth, savoring the aftermath of the punishment he inflicted. 

“You can and you will.” Despite the rasp in his voice, the command still holds authority over your forlorn frame and sends prickles down your spine. You feel yourself, yet again, creeping to the edge of an orgasm. “Cum for me.” 

It’s those three, simple words that have you seeing white. Breathless, your brows scrunch together and lips open into a wide ‘o’, but no sound comes out. Your whole body tenses, all senses overwhelmed by this final tidal wave of pleasure, and then finally goes slack. 

You’re officially done, body worked to the point of no return. A couple more snaps of his hips and Shouta follows, your name grunted loudly as he spills into you. 

For a long time you simply lay together silently, chests heaving with his body still splayed over yours. You know that eventually he’ll roll out of bed and make sure you’re all cleaned up. You always revel in the way he pampers you, taking his time to ensure he doesn’t miss a single inch of skin. If you weren’t so exhausted, he’d probably run a bath as well. 

Right now, the heat is finally proving too much for you, so you tap at his hip and he slides himself out of your raw core. 

“Ouch,” you wince at the friction, the ability to speak returning to you at last. The whole bottom half of your body is tender. It’ll be a miracle if you’re able to sit comfortably for the next few days. 

“Surprised you actually behaved,” he chuckles, flipping you over to hold you. His fingers rub lazy circles into your back and he presses a kiss to your forehead, “You were so good for me.” 

“Not like you had me tied up or anything,” you poke a finger at his chest. “And to do paperwork at that.” 

“Oh,” a slow, smug smile inches across his face, “I didn’t get any work done.” You might just slap him.

“Shouta,” your voice is even, but your eyes pierce his, narrowed in disbelief, “what do you mean you didn’t get any work done?” His laugh rumbles through his chest. 

“Do you think I could really focus, hearing your screeching through the walls like that?” 

-

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[yeojaa]

stay gold.

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  blond!jk being a good boy?  idk.  that’s literally it.  wc. 3k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​, ofc.  author note.  this was meant to be pwp but i cannot shut up so here is this mess that is neither pwp nor something with a legit plotline. 🤠 blame blondie.

Having a content creator boyfriend is fun.  Usually.

You get to go on cool trips, he gives you all of the random shit his sponsors send him, and you get to preen like a cat that ate the canary when his DMs blow up with hundreds of messages.  

Sure, there are the downsides.  All his stupid pranks - the ones that piss you off when you’re trying to do your makeup, the ones that have him dunking ice cubes on you while you’re in the middle of a shower - and his perpetual recording, camera glued to his hand and if not that, then his phone.  There are the rude comments - the oh, that’s his girlfriend? He could do better was a common one - and the long hours he spends editing, holed away in his office;  the beyond inappropriate packages he gets in the mail, thongs and other things that he immediately tosses away with a reassuring tilt of his pretty head.

You don’t mind it though.  He enjoys it, thrives on it, and you’re there to support him.

But you’d never expected this.

This Adonis standing in the doorway, freshly styled strands pushed back from his forehead, glimmering gold falling across his eyes.  He looks, for lack of a better word, unreal.

(You’re not often speechless.  Can’t be, when you’re dating someone like Jeon Jungkook and everything he does either makes you laugh or infuriates you.  Boring isn’t a part of his vocabulary and you’ve learnt to keep up with his antics over the years.)

(Still, this comes close, stealing all the air from your lungs.)

“Hey, baby.”  It’s his usual greeting, offered without hesitation as he crosses the threshold and tosses his keys into the catch-all by the door.  Kicks off his chunky sneakers and peels his sweater over his head, effectively tousling the tawny threads.

He’s so handsome it’s outright disgusting, leaving you gaping up at him from your post on the couch.  Gives you very little to work with as he shimmies down the hall, grabs an apple off the kitchen island, and then not-so-gracefully plops himself down beside you.  

You still haven’t found your words by the time he takes two gigantic bites, flesh crunching between his teeth, big doe eyes sparkling like he’s stepped right out of a Disney film.

“D’you like it?”  

Did you?  Well, obviously.

You’ve never imagined Jungkook blond.  He’d gone through a phase in college, colours of the rainbow rotating through the ends of his hair.  Brown, red, orange, blue.  You’d loved each hue but this was something else entirely.  (Different even from the two months he’d spent as full-on ginger, committing far too hard to his Haikyuu!! Halloween costume.)

This version of him is steeped in some twisted fantasy, a dream crafted by years of bedtime stories and happily ever afters.  It screams Prince Charming and has you reaching for him before you know what you’re doing, threading fingers through the surprisingly soft silk that curls over his ears and looks so lovely next to the silver of his piercings.  

You mean to be gentle, to comb delicately through flax but fuck.  He looks so good you want to devour him.  (You can only imagine your face - a lovesick puppy brought home from the pound.)

There’s still apple in his mouth, juice tracking down his chin because you’re really making it quite hard for him to chew when you’ve got him like this, two hands on either side of his face, holding him in place.  Inspecting him like a piece of meat as he peers at you, deceptively innocent and amused.  “That’s a yes?”  

An answer comes in the form of a kiss, of limbs rearranging and settling directly into his lap.  Knees wide, chest to chest, you can’t even be bothered by the sickly sticky feel of his skin, the way his hands are too cold to be creeping up beneath the hem of your - his - shirt.

(Where had he put the apple?  You know it’s not finished, two bites in and left to roll all over the rug.  You’ll give him shit for that later, when you’re not so distracted.)

“You look like Barbie,”  you mumble against his lips, into the warmth of his mouth.  You ignore the way he laughs, swallowing it down with a pass of your tongue and too much spit swapped, a string of saliva caught between you when you come up for air. 

Somehow, you’re still lightheaded, all your thoughts framed into the familiar silhouette of the boy beneath you.  Cherry red lips - your fault, from all your biting and teasing and the balm you’d applied earlier - and blond hair.  Who would’ve known that was your weakness?

(Deep down, you know Jungkook as a whole is the issue.  That it’s your stupid handsome boyfriend with his lopsided smile and bunny teeth, dimples and that scar on his cheek.  This is just a new layer to be explored, another reason you love him added to the Jungkook Best Boy jar that sits front and centre in your mind’s eye.)

“Don’t say that,”  he groans, equal parts reproach and affection, palms resting where they belong, nestled over your spine.  Long fingers toy with the soft cotton of your thong, brushing over the seamless material with small repetitive motions. 

You realise then his hands aren’t the only things heating up.

The two of you have an understanding, an abiding awareness of the boundaries of your relationship and the roles you take on.  Best friend, occasional sucker for the sake of a TikTok, lover.

He knows how much you hate your dirty laundry being aired - does his very best to never post anything that might be misconstrued, ensures he only ever portrays you in a good light because the internet could be cruel.  (Even if he argued with you in the quiet of your home, he’d keep you safe outside of the four walls.)  

You know how he needs his quiet time but that sometimes, a night out was unavoidable, a part of his life he - and by extension you - couldn’t always say no to.  (Even if you were achy and tired by midnight, glaring down at your phone as he made his rounds, exchanged contact details and rambled about shit that meant nothing.)

He’s learnt to make your eggs the way you love them:  soft in the centre, covered with too much pepper.  He never washes your clothes in hot water (not after The Great Sweater debacle) and he always makes sure not to use your special memory foam pillow.  

You kiss him goodnight without fail and play with his hair until he falls asleep;  you bury your face against his chest when he’s had a long day, signing your love with the felt-tip of your lips.  You bring him fresh cut fruit when he’s been working for more than three hours and wash his hair when he’s stressed. 

Knowing each other was easy;  loving each other was like breathing.

This, though, is different.  New.  Special.  

He’s never been like this before, glazed over in the eyes, patience wearing thin.  Sat so well, picture perfect beneath you and cornsilk crown lighting his entire expression up like a halo, he’s ethereal. 

“Baby,”  he whines, grits through his teeth as you roll your hips that much slower, the glide impossibly smooth thanks to the lychee watermelon lube he’d received to his PO box.  (One of the items you hadn’t thrown away from that package, together with a handful of other toys that’d come in handy over the months.)

You’re shameless, soothing a hand across his cheek, thumb slipping past his lips.  (You ignore the noise of indignation, meet it with a twinkling laugh of your own.)  It sweeps over his tongue, pressing down in tandem with the second sound - one that echoes out of his chest, a growl that pitches into a whine and makes your ears buzz.  “Hi, baby.”

“Stop teasing.”  It’s practically begging - or as close to it as Jungkook will get.  It draws a smile and another pass of your thumb, gliding across his gums to slot against the interior of his cheek.  You’ve got him fishhooked, immobile, even as he glares up at you.

(He’s so, so handsome.  Looks utterly out of it even as he tries to harden his gaze, coerce you into doing what he wants with that stare that makes your heart lurch pathetically in your chest.)

“You don’t like this?”

You know he does - that he loves being pampered.  That he’ll rarely ask, instead pouting at you from wherever he sits until you turn to putty under his gaze and smother him in all the love you have to offer.

“I do.  I just—”  The rest of his words don’t come, stolen by a gasp when you grind against him, swollen head of his cock bumping against your clit.  He’s making a mess of you both, back arching, hips rising, hands fisted into the sheets even as he chases friction like a dog does its tail.  The warmth between your legs is so close he looks as if he’ll lose his mind, rutting against your cunt like just the right angle might get him what he wants.  “Fuck, baby.”

“I’m trying,”  you retort, mouthful of teasing that only earns you another glare, some poor semblance of one as he bites into the webbing of your hand, bucks up impatiently.

“Please.”  He tries again, a different tactic this time, all sugar-spun sweetness.  Strawberry shortcake rather than sour cherry pie, so eager to get what he wants that he’s not above pulling out all the stops.  A hand risen from the sheets, digits decorated in ink swimming over your skin, sinking into the meat of your thigh.

(He doesn’t push though.  Knows you’ll pull the moment he does.)

“Please?”  An echo chamber, endlessly teasing, and a ducked head, lips finding the sweat-slick column of his throat.  Just one drag of your tongue has him crumbling further, careful composure slipping with each swivel of your hips, the edge of your teeth.  There’s nothing but desperation radiating off him, demand choked back when you drift lower, tracing over his chest, teasing him in the ways you know best.  

It’s all so unnecessary, drawing out what he wants until he’s a goner, three seconds from combusting beneath you.  You’d give him anything he ever asked for - offer it all up on a silver plate, a meal fit for a king.  This is just fun, different and exciting. 

You relent with a minor adjustment, settling yourself against him, face dropped into the crook of his neck.  “Slowly.”

He repeats after you, uncertain and hopeful;  his hand falls further, warmth descending to pull you close, hold you still.   As much as he needs this - needs you - he loves the slow burn just as much.  The stutter of his pulse gives him away, erratic beneath your touch.  He’s a thousand miles above the clouds, floating on cloud nine;  every second passed is another tingle of his toes, a tightening of the coil in his stomach.

When he aligns himself against your core, pre-cum pearling over his tip, he does exactly as you’ve asked.  Sinks into you at such a leisurely pace you wonder if you might be the one who splinters apart, shatters into a million tiny pieces at the way he splits you open.  

“Good?”  Jungkook asks so nicely it’s impossible for you to say no, to deny him this tiny bit of reassurance.  

(Maybe it’s the way he looks, crowned in glittering gold, painted by Fra Angelico.  Or maybe it’s how his smile spills like sunshine, a peachy pink horizon dragging over the apples of his cheeks, burnt red like their namesake.)

(Whatever it is, it’s everything you want, packed perfectly and pouting.)

“Good boy,”  you purr, breath hitching once he’s sheathed to the hilt, seated so deeply within that you swear you can feel him in your throat.

You’ve never felt so full before - close to overflow, taunted and taxed by ridges and veins, each flex of his hips that drives him somehow further within your fluttering walls.  So full you might burst, that you can’t possibly hold yourself together when he begins to move, fucking you tenderly, as if he can feel the weight of the moment.  

There’s something happening.  A shift in the air, in the axis of your planet that revolves around him.  It falls on its side, spins wildly out of control, and you’re emotional.  It’s not just his hair - that gilded crown he wears, heavy heavy heavy like aureate coin - or the impossible dark of his eyes - blown out, an entire galaxy devoured by the supermassive black hole that is his pupils.  It’s the things you can’t see, the pieces beneath skin, soft and jammy, the tongue-tart sweetness.

(The thing with Jungkook is that he doesn’t let go, refuses to fully submit, always so careful to regulate his voice when things get to be too much.  He’ll blink back his tears, stifle a sob, even as his breath disappears from nothing but a delicate brush of his chest.)

You take his vulnerability as a treasure, hold it close and craft a chest for its home, promise to keep it safe even while you're the one who poses the most danger.  When it’s your teeth and tongue that eviscerates the soft of his flesh, makes him keen and gasp, heart pounding like hooves, beat imprinted against, under, into your palms.

When he begs you to move - manages the request in a broken articulation that makes you giggle - you give, swivel your hips in a figure eight, an infinity of motion that never ends.  

You take all he has to offer and sing your praise into the wet of his mouth.  Lick over teeth and gums and trade spit for love;  know there’s only more where that came from, that the fountain begs to overflow as he finally - finally - breaks that much more, gripping your hips gentle as can be.  Hands soothe up and down, an unspoken plea in how he thumbs your hip bones, taps hopefully over the small of your lower back.

He doesn’t need to speak for you to hear him. 

It’s more than a kiss forming against your skin.  It’s a confession of adoration, sealed by the frame of his mouth, cemented by the sting of his teeth.  It’s I love you without saying it, plastering the pecks along your spine, placing them safely in all the spaces you’ve created for him.

It’s also an apology, because he’s just torn your castle to pieces, shattered your entire fantasy into smithereens.

He hadn’t expected you to react the way you had, rolling off him as if he hadn’t just been chasing the sweet bliss of release, splitting your walls and making you wail above him.  It has him pouting, utilising the one thing that melts you down like candle wax.  

“Baby,”  he whines, reaching for you, needy and horny and so hard he imagines all the blood has rushed from his head straight to his cock.  Everything spins when he moves with you, scrambles across the California king to paw at your hip.  

He’d been so good for you - wasn’t that enough?

“Don’t,”  you grumble, searing his insides with just one look.  (It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.)

“But—”  A plea punctuated by groping hands, eager as always, smoothing over the swell of your ass, flesh squeezing between knuckles.  He’d normally let this go - fuck into his closed fist in the shower after he’s done something to cut playtime short - but he can’t help it now.  He’s been on the edge for so long, lit up in neon that demands to be seen, heard, felt.

“Don’t dye it again.”  

Oh?

That has him reeling, laughing, such a stupid grin across his face.  It devours everything else, spearing dimples into place as he pulls you against him.  You can feel his smile forming against your skin, the wet drag of his tongue as he sucks a welt into the sensitive spot of your shoulder.

“You wanna play with Barbie, baby?”  It’s such a stupid line - utterly sophomoric and riddled with teasing and yet the delivery has you shivering in his arms, equally childish huff splitting your lips.

Jungkook doesn’t listen to you often - not about silly things like this - but he figures he can, just this once.

“I won’t,”  he chirps, sneaking another kiss, stamping another smooch.  It’s working exactly as he wants, stilling your protesting limbs as he cages you to him, slips his hand back where he most wants to be.  The glide is perfect, a mixture of arousal and fruity lubricant;  he slips a finger in without resistance, grinding his palm against your clit. 

“R-really?”  Of course you don’t believe him.  He messes with you too often, plays too many pranks.  (He deserves that.) 

His promise comes too easy, driven by how nice you feel, how pretty you sound when he presses another digit in along the first.  The scissor of his fingers is languid, exploring for the spots that make you breathless as he hums a noise of affirmation against your neck;  he fucks you open as if he has to, as if you aren’t already dripping, eagerly sucking him in.  “Really.”  

“Put it in then, Ken doll.”

He laughs - and then he does.  In bed, with your knee hooked over his, pace slow and sure and sinful.  In the shower, bent over with his hands bruising your hips.  In the kitchen for a late night snack, another apple in his mouth and your hands in his hair.

Maybe blonds did have more fun. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @codeinebelle​

[iwantutobehapppier]

Morning Cup

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The best part of waking up is...

Word Count: 1,105

Warnings: 18+ only Smuts, handjob lol maybe a bit dubcon?

A/N: Been a while aye? Thank you lovelies for your continued support as I work through personal life. I do offer you this sinful drabble. Purely inspired by a salacious gif I found. The mind runs wild sometimes. :)

It can’t be any later at 5 AM as you start the water to boil for your French press in the compound shared kitchen. Well, a French press for you and Bucky. Right as the electronic kettle hits temp you hear the soft padding of bare feet on the kitchen tile. Speak of the devil and he shall appear you muse to yourself.

“Mornin’ doll,” the rough bass in his voice this early in the morning sends a tingle down your spine stopping at your panty and sleep shorts covered core. The man’s voice was sin so early in the morning.

You mutter out a soft morning in response before pouring the perfectly heated water into the French press pot. Glancing at the clock you denote the time to make sure you don’t wait too long with the brew before turning around to face Bucky.

His attire in the early morning used to be much more modest but over the months of your shared mornings he came out in less and less. Today it was simply his boxer briefs, that was certainly a first. Your eyes trail along his lightly dusted dark-haired chest, the wide expanse of muscles and scar tissue, you subconsciously swipe your tongue over your bottom lip before pulling between your teeth.

The knowing smirk that pulls at the Bucky’s lips brings heat rushing to your cheeks. Oh, you were caught ogling. It wasn’t the first time but this certainly was more of a view to admire. Your eyes trailed along the adonis belt line peaking up. You were fairly certain that hair you see right at his boxer line is his pubic hair with how low they set on his hips.

Your eyes cut up to his, the smirk coupled with his tongue sitting on his upper lip, eyes hooded but do not stray from your eye contact. Feeling the heat taking over your entire face you spin around glancing at the clock. Grateful for the time you begin to push down on the French press.

“You and Steve going to run circles on Sam today?” You make small talk, trying to calm down your growing arousal. Tension had been growing between the two of you over these shared mornings. Both of you early risers. Enjoying each other’s company until Steve wakes up for their morning run.

But until Steve, it’s just the two of you, every morning.

“Nah,” Bucky’s voice right behind you. You inhale deep preventing you to gasp. Doing so you pull in that unique smell of Bucky. “They were called away late last night. Just us this morning doll.”

Bucky can’t help himself, he enjoyed any time he could spend with you. If alone it was even better for him. The way you made him feel, the flirting, longing glances, and that delicious way your eyes dilate when looking at him… it’s intoxicating for him. Your soft giggles made him feel more like himself than anything else did. More than spending time with Steve, more than visiting Brooklyn and more than cutting his hair did.

He smiles when you hand him his cup of coffee with the perfect amount of cream and sugar. Taking a drink he could feel his body relaxing, mind awakening, or was your presence doing that. He trails behind you, making your way to the living room, eyes zeroing in on the panty lines in your sleep shorts. The tight fabric straining over your lushes backend. Bucky feels his boxers pushed against his growing erection. His favorite view disrupted when you take up residence on the loveseat facing the floor-length windows.

This was the morning routine. You made coffee and the two of you drank together watching the sun creep in over the lake. Flirting and such flowing naturally. A steady routine and never going anywhere but Bucky wasn’t settling for that. He wanted more, better yet he needed more from you.

His balls ached nightly, and no matter how many times he took himself into his own hands that ache was there when he awoke at the thought of seeing you again. Spending time with you, next to you...

“Well I hope they’re not gone for long,” You pull Bucky from his thoughts, he almost forgot he told you about Steve and Sam. “Tony has some party planned soon you know how annoyed he gets when we aren’t all there.”

Bucky hums in response, eyes trailing over your crisscrossed legs. Your knee against his with his spread legs. He zeros in on your underwear peaking out, the crotch cloth of your shorts not wide enough to cover what we could only assume is the juiciest pussy. What was a half chub, is now a full-on raging erection barely confined by grey cotton boxers.

Taking another drink you let out a soft sigh, watching the sky changing color slowly as the day dawns. Unaware of your morning partners’ struggles until he clears his throat. You look at him and can make out the faintest line of perspiration on his forehead.

“I’ve uh,” he stops taking his cup in his metal hand resting on the loveseat armrest. “I’ve got something for you.”

Your eyes lighten in delight, eyebrows raised. “Oh?” He tips his head down and your eyes follow, down his chest, to his boxers. You pause thinking you see something you were certain hadn’t been there earlier.

He dips his flesh hand in the left side of his boxer leg hole, pulling the fabric up to reveal his thick, red, and hard cock popping up to full attention. A strangled gasp falls from your lips. You’re entranced at the precum beading at the tip. You lick your lips and Bucky’s eyes catch the movement.

“Ya wanna touch it doll?” His voice is light, the question heavy. You can’t form a response, believing for a split second this isn’t real until his hand is taking your wrist. Wrapping your fingers around the thick shaft. fingertips don’t touch, on reflex you pump your hand up and down. You rub your thumb along the bead of precum smearing it over the tip. He groans, and your head tilts up to look at him, head back, his bottom lip being abused between his teeth. Those brows furrowed.

You freeze your movements his groan pulls you out of the trance. This wasn’t right, he was your teammate.

His eyes open up sensing your hesitation and release your hand. He wraps it around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. “It’s okay,” his hot breath crosses your face. "Just rub me a little bit and I'll rub you too."

[littlefreya]

Man of Steel

Summary: Clark Kent rescues you from certain death and the near-death experience seems to make him rather demanding for more... 

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader (You)

Word count: 781

Warnings: Explicit! Near-death experience, oral sex, unprotected rough sex.

A/N: Remember how we talked about the fact that being the strongest man on earth Clark can probably maintain an erection for hours and fuck you till you’re about to faint? Then this. I don’t own Superman, Man of Steel or DC!!

A special thanks for @agniavateira for editing my stories! 

Title: Man of Steel

You’ve been rescued by the Man of Steel himself. He swooped you from the blast as the flames licked your feet and the ugly face of death sneered at you. 

“That makes it our fifth date, then?” He teases gently, murmuring against your ear as he holds you close against his Adonis-like form.

You are anything but amused, visibly shaking as he carries you in the air. One hand is underneath your knees while the other hugs around your chest as if you were his bride.

He lands on the top of a skyscraper. The ground feels like soft cotton beneath your feeble feet. 

His hands are still latched onto you, firm and stable at your forearms. His kind eyes seek yours.

“Hey...” he calls out gently, his fist-bumping your chin up to meet his gaze. “Don’t cry.”

You look at him, still trembling. His lips are pressed together in a small, arousing pout. That’s when you see it, that odd, twisted, dark desire shadows his eyes.  

It’s as if rescuing you from death affects him in sinister ways. It drifts from him like hypnotic mist, surrounding you and sipping inside your lungs. 

Your mind is in chaos; endless sensations run through your veins. You’re still filled with fear yet your body is heeding Clark’s call. The throbbing in your cunt is undeniable.   

You wonder if he can smell your wetness. He is Superman after all.

He can. His smile turns sinful.

Still in his grasp, he crushes you against his lips, kissing you with demand. You whimper into his mouth, feeling his hardening bulge at your lower abdomen.

Within minutes you’re both out of your clothes. Clark lays you down on the gravel of the roof while using his red cape as a blanket.

He begins by eating you out. He holds you down forcefully with his mouth, drinking the elixir between your thighs. 

His tongue is skilful and flexible as it explores your depths. His beautiful lips suckle your clit until you come exploding into bliss.

You mean to return the favour but he's already between your thighs, forcing your legs apart while his hands pin your wrists above your head.

“Tell me if it hurts.” he warns, knowing his power is not matched to yours.

He enters you hard in one thrust, forcing you to take all of him at once.

You cry out, caught up between pain and pleasure as your body stretches to suit his incredible lust.

He fucks you slow and rough, making sure you feel every inch of his large shaft as it steadily drives in and out of you.

Towering above you, Clark angles himself so he can watch how you rock back and forth beneath him.

Suddenly he increases his speed, pounding you faster, grunting loudly to let you know how good it feels inside you.

What scares you is that you know he is being gentle, yet you feel yourself falling apart by his might. The pleasure is so intense that it makes tears gather around your eyes. 

You explode around him, your body sucking him in with fierce demand, trying to squeeze his impossibly hard cock of everything he has to offer. 

But he is not done, not even close.

Soon you find yourself on your knees while he rams you as if you were some bitch. His hands are saddling your hips. His cock is forcing in and out of you, bringing you to your third orgasm. 

“Clark, please!” you whine, your body nearly collapsing from pleasure.

He places a hand on your back, lowering your head to the ground but continuing to fuck you through your climax. He gives no care to your taut muscle’s protests and helpless sobs.

You can feel him swelling larger yet he keeps going, changing the pace, deepening into you.

“Please Clark!” you cry, as another orgasm takes you over still his cock slides in and out despite your body’s protest. 

He answers with a grunt, unable to stop.

You can’t even breathe properly anymore, losing count of your orgasms as he fucks you until everything begins to hurt.

It lasts until the sun begins to rise. Your voice is nearly gone from moaning like a whore throughout the changing moon above you.

By that time, your legs are over his shoulders and he is on his knees. Finally, he comes inside you with a loud shout that rips through the sky.

He spoons you in his arms as you finally lie down. You’re spent, feeling his naked chest, sticky with sweat against your back.

“Not so bad for a fifth date, after all.” he whispers as he nibbles your ear.