#eight x reader

[frankiethedarkangel]

Request for a male drider that is obsessed with eating their human partner out

Your drider boyfriend is obsessed with your pussy.

He can never get enough of you. Whether it’s tasting you or fucking you, he’s undeniably obsessed. He loves your pussy on his mouth the most. Nipping at you, tongue fucking you. Anything to get you to squirm.

The venom in his bite isn’t a poison, it’s an aphrodisiac he uses on you. He bites at your thighs making his way to your pussy. Each bite turning you on more and more.

Your drider boyfriend likes to use his webs to tie you up. Holding you still as he devours your pussy. Two of his arms are holding your thighs open. Another two are holding your waist, pulling your pussy into his mouth more.

From how much he eats you out, he knows every little move that makes you squirm. Tongue fucking your hole. Sucking on your clit. Lightly biting your clit with his fangs. Just to turn you on more from his aphrodisiac venom.

Monster Masterlist

[boatsailing]

Even the dawn doesn't want to be near bro

Also, EJ looks like an Owl

[nadvs]

watch and learn (part seven)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The next morning, you sleep in, recovering from the party. Your head is still foggy as you scroll through your phone in bed, thinking about last night.

You spent a lot of time with Blake. He was nice and charming and all you did was talk and share innocent touches. He’s nothing but green flags.

Yet your mind kept reminding you of Rafe. And it kept replaying the sight of him kissing another girl.

Something between you two shifted the other day, when you dropped by after his dad’s visit. You agreed that you were friends. And then did something that friends definitely don’t do.

Then, of course, he took a few days to be a jerk. But last night, he mustered up a sorry for you, flirting with you again.

It’s almost like he’s leaving breadcrumbs, making you think he has feelings, with the possessiveness and the compliments and the looks he gives you. But time and time and time again, Rafe proves to you that he’s a douchebag who’s not looking for anything more than sex.

And neither are you, you remind yourself. Not with Rafe. He would break your heart if given the chance. And you’re not giving him the chance.

You see a text from Rafe from a couple of hours ago: you up?

You reply: i am now.

You open Instagram to see that Blake posted a story a few minutes ago. It’s a photo of a sign on the side of a building. He’s at a paintball range with his frat brothers. It must be another bonding event.

The text on the photo reads: let’s goooo red team.

You reply to the story: putting all my money on the red team.

He responds: I’ll win for you :)

Rafe has never played paintball before, but it couldn’t have come at a better time. His gun is loaded with blue pellets and he has Blake in his sights before the starting bell even rings.

This will be the best way to release his anger over the fact that he’s losing you. Well, other than getting naked with you and fucking until he can’t think straight. But you weren’t answering your phone this morning. So, this’ll do.

The field is vast under the cloudy sky, cluttered full of obstacles and barriers and embankments. When the game starts, Rafe has one goal and one goal only.

He hates how you were smiling at Blake last night. He hates how you touched his shoulder. How you laughed. How close you were.

Mere minutes into the game, he’s behind a colorfully splattered wall and finally finds Blake in his crosshairs. His finger presses down on the trigger over and over and over again, each pop loud and echoing, coating the front of Blake’s vest with bright blue drops of paint.

“Jesus, Rafe, I think you got him, man!” one of his teammates shouts with a laugh.

Even though one of his buddies on the red team nails Rafe in his arm a couple of times near the end of the round, the game ends in a blue team victory.

As the boys make their way back into the building, Blake shoves Rafe’s shoulder.

“The fuck was that, Cameron?” Blake asks, pointing to his vest, sheathed in blue. His smile is wide, but his tone is sharp. He’s trying to hide it, but he seems actually pissed off. Good.

“My bad, man,” Rafe half-chuckles, lifting his helmet off his head. “Got lost in the game. I love to win.”

The high from winning this stupid game is so intensely gratifying that Rafe wants to keep beating Blake in everything. Including in getting your attention.

When Rafe checks his phone as they leave the range, he sees you finally responded. He’s craving you now, but he’ll see you in a few hours at tonight’s party. And he wants Blake to see you with him.

He was stupid to think he could stay away from you. He’s going to see you as many times as you let him before your touches with Blake have more meaning behind them.

The “anything but clothes” party is slated to start at the Sigma Chi house in a few minutes. You and Liv decide to show up right on time to hang out with the guys and drink before the liquor runs out.

You made a stop at a party store off-campus to buy rolls of caution tape together, deciding to wrap the bright yellow nylon into haphazard tube tops and mini skirts, stuck together with clear packing tape. You’re careful so that the sticky tape is only on the caution tape, not directly touching any skin at all.

When you enter the house, you follow the noise in the kitchen. A group of frat boys are in the dining room, setting up the keg and putting out cups.

Blake and Rafe are standing with four other guys, talking as they set up.

Rafe should’ve put more effort into what he wore. He has a towel around his hips and when you walk in wearing next to nothing, he regrets it immediately. A boner would be way too fucking obvious.

Blake greets you with a side-hug and Rafe cracks his knuckles under the table.

“Hey, how was paintball?” you ask. “Did you win?”

“Lost and I’m wounded.” Blake’s wearing a plastic bag over his chest and another around his hips. He puts his hand over his sternum, the bag crinkling beneath his fingers.

“What the hell happened?” you laugh, placing your hand on his. He pretends to wince in pain when you touch him, making you laugh again. The sight makes Rafe scowl.

“Rafe went all Scarface on him,” Sam says. You look to Rafe, and at the same time, glass shatters in the kitchen behind you.

“Shit!” a guy shouts.

“So glad tomorrow’s thing is outside,” Blake mumbles. “This place is a mess and it’s only gonna get worse.”

“What’s tomorrow?” you ask.

“Family day,” Sam says. “We’re having a barbecue.”

“Do you guys have something going on every weekend?” Liv asks.

“Pretty much,” Blake in a bragging tone.

“And when do you study?” you say.

“During the week, fun police,” Blake mumbles with a playful smile. You hate the label and think back to a conversation you had with him over text about nicknames.

“Don’t call me that, babe,” you respond. Blake told you before that he loathes being called babe.

Rafe doesn’t know you’re saying it ironically. And he’s trying not to lose his mind. He looks down at his beer and takes another sip.

A moment passes and he doesn’t notice that Blake is trying to get his attention until he realizes seven pairs of eyes are on him.

“What?” Rafe asks.

“Who are you bringing tomorrow?” Blake repeats.

“I’m not coming.” Rafe can’t imagine even mentioning the event to anyone in his family.

“What? Why not?” Blake says. “I need to meet who raised you to be so fucking competitive.”

Rafe looks away the same way he did when you confronted his dad for yelling at him. It’s not exactly annoyance in his expression, like you’re used to seeing. It’s discomfort. Embarrassment.

You don’t want anyone to grill him. Not about his family. You can still hear the way his father snapped at him, asked what he was crying for.

“Sounds like you’re just mad that you’re such an easy target,” you say to Blake, primarily to take everyone’s eyes off of Rafe.

You earn a few jeers, heads turning back in your direction. Rafe’s eyes find yours and you glance at him to see a softened expression, the hard lines in his face suddenly gone.

“I’d like to see you try to play paintball,” Blake says.

“Yeah, you’re really selling it,” you respond sarcastically, snapping your gaze back to meet his.

“What other events do you guys have planned?” Liv asks.

As Blake goes into the schedule for the rest of the year - including a community service drive, a Sadie Hawkins formal, and a camping trip - Rafe can’t keep his eyes off of you.

He can’t forget how you stood up to his father, a total stranger, and told him to calm down. He can’t forget how happy your silly little gift made him.

Maybe you were just flirting with Blake, but he wonders if you purposely took the attention off of him, knowing what you know about his family.

You two are friends that have great sex, he knows that, but he’s staring at you like you’re more. You can be irritating and a tight-ass, but you’re kind and thoughtful, too.

Rafe looks away. These thoughts make him uneasy all over. He’s not a feelings kind of guy. And Blake is so obviously your type and Rafe is nothing like him.

He’s not stupid. Anything more than sex between you two would be ridiculous.

The house fills up with partygoers quickly, air thickening, music loud and conversations even louder.

Later on in the night, Rafe’s buzzed and standing by the keg, watching you dance with your friend. The way you roll your hips reminds him of how you move when you’re on top of him and he needs to force himself to look away before he gets hard. Again.

Eventually, he notices you head towards the back of the house alone and he takes the opportunity to talk to you.

When you leave the bathroom and head down the dark hallway back towards the party, you notice Rafe leaning by the wall, a beer bottle in his hand. There’s only a handful of people around, engaging in quiet, private conversation as the music throbs around you.

“Hey,” he says. He wishes he thought of something more clever to say, but he’s pretty close to being drunk.

It’s kind of sweet that he’s waiting here for you. But then you remind yourself he’s just horny.

“Hey,” you say, eyes flitting down his athletic body and to the navy blue towel sitting at his hips. “Pretty lazy of you to use a towel.”

“Nah, it’s smart,” he quips. “That tape is perfect for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you say.

“You can read, can’t you?” Rafe simply says, his hand ghosting over the bold CAUTION on your chest. You look down at the way his long fingers just barely brush over your breasts, imagining the way they were massaging you earlier this week.

The reminder sends a swirl of warm passion in your core. You want him again. And again. And again.

“Are you trying to say I’m dangerous? I’m not the one attacking people during an innocent game of paintball.”

“I got hit, too, okay?” Rafe complains. He brings his right arm forward, showing you his flexed bicep.

“I don’t see anything,” you laugh.

“These red marks are turning into bruises,” he says, pointing to his skin. “I’ll need you to take care of me.”

“I think you’re just being a fuckboy,” you respond.

Rafe’s smirk is playful and inviting and you realize you’re only inches away from each other, eyes connected and smiles mirrored.

You want to see him naked again. Neither of you had any pointers last time you hooked up, but that doesn’t mean you’re done learning, right?

“I’ve never gotten a ‘you up?’ text at ten in the morning,” you say. Admittedly, you were a little dejected that he didn’t reply to your message earlier today.

“You woke up late,” Rafe says, eyebrows quirking up for a second. “When’d you even get home?”

In reality, he wants to know if you were with Blake. He didn’t see you at last night’s party after he made out with a girl just to unsuccessfully make you jealous. Maybe you messed around with Blake and stayed up late with him.

“I don’t remember,” you admit with a defeated laugh. “I think I need to cool it on the partying. You frat boys never stop. I can’t believe how many things you guys have going on.”

Rafe breathes a sardonic chuckle, looking down, and you’re immediately reminded of tomorrow’s event.

Just like that, the air between you shifts. You’re both thinking of the same thing. You’re painfully aware of it.

Silence settles between you and you nervously scratch your arm.

“I wouldn’t want to bring him, either,” you finally say. Rafe’s eyes meet yours. He instantly knows you’re talking about his father.

Now he’s sure you weren’t just carrying on conversation with Blake earlier. You purposely took the attention off of him. Because you’re friends. Friends help each other.

“Yeah,” is all Rafe can say.

“Did you…” you say softly. “Do you not have anyone else you’d want to come?”

Rafe thinks of his life back home. His father, who never shies away from expressing his disappointment. His step-mother, who he has no relationship with. Sarah, who’s the clear favorite. Wheezie, who Rafe actually likes and sort of misses, but wouldn’t be able to visit on her own.

“No,” he admits. “It’s… I don’t have that kind of family.”

“Must be why you’re into this whole frat thing,” you say. You can’t stop yourself from trying to understand his complexities.

Rafe didn’t think about it that way. But the sense of camaraderie he has with his frat brothers, except for one in particular, does give him a sense of belonging he’s been chasing forever. He didn’t even realize it until you said it.

But that’s what you do. You make him think and feel things he hasn’t before and it’s so uncomfortable and exciting at the same time.

“You’re…” Rafe tugs at his earlobe. “You’re a really nice person.”

“What?” You laugh in disbelief. Is he being sweet to you outside of the bedroom?

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he says. “When he asked me why I’m not going tomorrow, you changed the subject.”

He can’t say Blake’s name.

“Guilty,” you say. You settle into eye contact that’s unlike anything you two have shared before. Rafe huffs, wanting to force away the tension sitting in his chest.

“I think you’re into this whole frat thing, too, by the way,” he says. He leans even closer to you, blue eyes focused on your lips.

“Not at all,” you joke, shaking your head. “I hate you guys.”

“Really,” Rafe mutters, his tone low. “Even me?”

“Especially you.”

“You don’t remember what you said last time we fucked? When I asked if I could put it in?”

Your skin burns as you think back to the way he asked you if you were ready before burying into you.

“You must be thinking about another girl,” you say. He won’t even entertain the thought.

“You said please,” he rasps.

“Well, at least I have manners,” you reply, looking him in the eye as anticipation curls in your stomach, refusing to shy away.

“You gonna beg me for it again?”

“I did not beg,” you respond.

You want to tease him even more, tell him you thought you were experts now, so what’s the point of hooking up anymore? But you don’t need it to be instructional to have sex with him. He doesn’t seem to need it, either.

“Don’t tell me you’re still shy about liking it.” His smirk is taunting. This cracks you, a smile spreading on your face again, your eyes trailing down his bare chest.

“Maybe,” you tease. It’s a lie. You’re not shy at all anymore. The sense of shame you felt around sex before is gone. At least with Rafe, it has.

“How can you be shy when you’re wearing that?” Rafe asks. “Showing fucking everything.”

“You’re one to talk,” you say, nose crinkling. The way you cock your head as you gaze at his body, your lashes fluttering as you blink, makes his gut warm and his groin tighten. Wow. He really doesn’t even need to touch you to get hard.

“And don’t act like you don’t like my outfit,” you say, meeting his eyes again. You shock yourself with your forwardness. He looks pleasantly surprised, too.

You hear your name being shouted. Liv rushes towards you, hands pressed over her chest.

“My tape broke,” she laughs. “I almost flashed everyone.”

“Really?” you gasp. Rafe is annoyed that you got interrupted, but he finds that he really likes what caring for somebody looks like on you. Your eyes deepen. Your brows lower. Your guard is down. You’re stunning.

“We should’ve brought extra tape,” Liv says.

“We can borrow a shirt,” you suggest. “Let’s find Blake.”

Rafe is seething. Blake. Of fucking course.

You offer Rafe a tight smile before taking your friend’s hand and walking in front of her to shield her.

When you find Blake, he leads you and Liv upstairs to his room, scrambling through his dresser to find a shirt for Liv.

“I’m not gonna get kicked out for wearing clothes, am I? It’s against the rules,” Liv says.

“No, only ‘cause you’re friends with fun police over here,” Blake replies, smiling over his shoulder as he hands a black shirt to Liv. “Special privileges.”

“I told you not to call me that,” you say with a laugh. Liv pulls the shirt over her head.

“Thanks!” she calls as she walks out of the room, a grin on her face. You know she’s purposely leaving you alone with Blake.

You meet Blake’s eyes, standing in the middle of his quiet, private room.

“Study fort’s gone,” you notice, looking down at his bare floor.

“Oh. Yeah,” he says stiffly. It’s awkward between you and you’re not sure why. “You look…”

Blake doesn’t finish his sentence. You knew he was a bit on the shy side, but he’s actually nervous.

You would normally find it endearing. But because of the intoxicating way Rafe was talking to you downstairs, how he’s so unafraid of telling you how attracted he is to you, you feel tense around Blake for the first time.

Still, intrigue coarses through you. You like him. You want him to flirt with you and to touch you and to finally kiss you. But he’s still.

Rafe spots your friend in the crowd with a t-shirt on. And you’re not next to her. He pushes through people to stand beside Liv and ask her where you are.

“Upstairs with Blake,” Liv simply responds. Rafe glances up the staircase, lips twisting as he nods. He stalks away, storming through the house with no real idea of where to go.

He paces around for a few minutes. He wants to rush upstairs and hurt Blake. Badly. Without a paintball gun this time. The thought of you being up there in his room, of his hands on you, of him on top of you… It’s too much. He’s grinding his teeth so hard that it hurts.

Rafe has had enough. He heads back towards the front of the house, not sure what the hell he’ll do if he walks in on Blake on top of you, but before he can go upstairs, he sees you in the crowd, chatting with your friend.

“I left you alone up there for a reason,” Liv says quietly when you approach her.

“Oh, I’m aware,” you laugh. “But the vibe was weird, so I left. I think we were both nervous.”

After Blake couldn’t finish his sentence, you thanked him for helping your friend and split.

“Do you not like him?” Liv asks.

You do. But you think you like someone else, too. And it’s terrifying.

Rafe weaves through the crowds, approaching you, his fingers gently wrapping around your wrist. You watch him duck to speak into your ear.

“Leave with me,” he says so only you can hear him over the music. You look at Liv, who has a sly, knowing expression on her face.

“I can’t abandon my friend just to hook up with you,” you say to him. A painful pang of rejection twists inside him.

“But do you want to?” Rafe asks. He needs to be sure. What if your next words are that you’re with Blake now?

Your pulse is racing. The promise of another night with Rafe is electrifying.

“Yes,” you admit. He smiles to himself, pulling back to look at Liv.

“You gonna be okay if she leaves?” Rafe says, tilting his head towards you.

“Of course, if she wants to,” Liv replies with an amused laugh.

Rafe pulls you towards him, out of the crowd. And for once, he’s actually glad to see Blake, who’s standing by the keg with a few friends.

He wraps his arm around your waist, mumbling to you that he’s going to rip that stupid tape off of you, as he glares at Blake, who’s staring at you two with a disconcerted grimace.

He leads you out of the rowdy house, grip tight on you as if he could lose you again.

The second you’re in Rafe’s dorm room, his hands are on your ass, fingers dipping under the tape. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, kissing him heatedly as you stand by his bed.

You can smell his cologne and his shampoo as his tongue runs over yours.

“You know everyone was looking at you tonight, right?” he says between kisses.

“No,” you scoff. While he’s helped you gain some confidence, you can’t imagine thinking of yourself as the most desired girl in a room.

“I told you not to do that,” he says against your lips. You feel the nylon around your ass lift off your skin as he tugs it away, pulling apart the material, tape unsticking.

“Do what?” you mutter. He grips your ass, feeling the fabric of your underwear on his palms. You lower a hand to undo the knot keeping up the towel on him.

“You pretend like you’re not beautiful and it pisses me off,” he says. Beautiful. He said hot before. But not beautiful. He never used that word with you. “How hard do I have to fuck you for you to get it?”

“Rafe,” you gasp with a giggle.

“How hard?” he asks. “Until you can’t talk?”

His towel drops and he kisses your neck, tugging at the tape bound around your chest. You shift to wrap your hand around his length over his boxers, aching for the feeling of him inside of you.

Rafe loves that you touch him like this now, without any hesitation. He rips the tape off of your chest, his fingers burning.

While you wore panties just in case, you’re glad you went without a bra simply because of the way Rafe breathes when he looks down to see your bare chest.

He fondles your tits with eager, rough movements, squeezing as he clenches his jaw.

“Every guy was staring at you, but only I get to do this.” His lips are against your neck, breath hot.

You tense for a second. He shouldn’t say shit like this. His words are possessive and tender and way too fucking heavy.

But you push yourself out of your head, focusing on how you feel physically, forgetting the emotions that have slowly been tacking themselves onto you like the crumpled tape on the floor.

You dip your hand into his boxers, wrapping your hand around his girth. Rafe inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut as you stroke him slowly. You drag your hand to his tip, feeling the warm precum and spreading it with your thumb.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“You like that?” you whisper with a smile. It’s exciting talking like this. You were always quiet when hooking up with a guy, but Rafe has pushed you completely out of your shell.

“Get on my bed,” he says gruffly, pressing your hips back. You lie down, watching his cock spring out of his boxers when he tugs them off.

Rafe almost asks to skip the condom, but it feels too intimate. Too serious. And he’s sure you’d say no.

You pull your panties off as he rolls on the latex and gets on his knees, sinking onto the mattress, hands gripping your ankles. He shifts and rests your ankles on his broad shoulders, his hands skimming down your legs.

He drags a thumb over your wet clit, gazing down at you with yearning as he spreads your slick arousal over you. You moan at the sensation, realizing just how sensitive you are from how long it’s been and how much you missed him.

“You’re fucking soaked,” Rafe rasps. “Who got you like this, baby?”

“You did,” you reply. The words coming out of your mouth are so fucking soothing. He can’t think about anyone else doing this to you. Only him.

Rafe pulls his hand off of you to grip your thigh and holds his cock at its base with his other hand, tapping it over your middle. You look at him, eyes meeting in an exquisite, mutual longing.

“Say please,” he teases.

“You say please,” you reply, smirking. Rafe shakes his head in disbelief and awe and desire, his hair falling over his forehead.

He can’t wait. He guides himself into you, slipping in so easily, feeling just how drenched and tight and warm you are. He groans as you take him in with a deep breath, tilting to feel the curve of his cock.

“That’s so fucking nice,” he whispers, watching himself push into you. “Your pussy is so fucking nice.”

His fingers dig into your thigh as he pulls back and pushes in again. You throw your head back as he shoves himself into you, filling you completely, the pressure hard and incredible.

Rafe’s thumb is on your clit again, rubbing in circles as he thrusts, making you tremble. Your mouth is agape, your hands above your head as he pleasures you.

It’s such a phenomenal view to him. Pleasure written on your face, your tits bouncing, your chest heaving, your body jolting.

You feel your stomach tighten, the rising sensation making you moan. Rafe starts to go harder, rubbing faster, a smile curling on his lips as he watches you.

“I…” you breathe. “Fuck, I…”

“Can’t talk?” he rasps, amused. You bite your bottom lip and moan a giggle, willing yourself to look at him before he has to tell you to.

His gaze is piercing into you as you feel yourself dissolve into ecstasy, your body going numb before it heats with the most amazing feeling you’ve ever had.

Rafe feels you clenching around his cock and he leans over to get as deep into you as possible, your legs bending as his shoulders push you forward.

After you come down from your orgasm, he places his hand on your cheek, dipping his thumb into your mouth.

You stare at him as he drives into you and you wrap your lips around his thumb, tasting yourself. Rafe might just go crazy. You take him so much better than he’s ever had before.

He tightens and you watch the euphoria wash over his face, his brows furrowing and his lips parting. You love that you can do this to him, that a man so commanding and dominant and brash crumbles like this when he’s inside you.

He cums in hard pulses, hips bucking with every jerk, seeing stars. When he slowly pulls out, you close your eyes, sighing in pleasure.

Your palms rest over your eyes, feeling high off the feeling as you feel him shift off the mattress. When you catch your breath, you open your eyes to see Rafe offering you a towel.

“You have fun?” he asks. You can tell he’s trying to do the whole aftercare thing, but because it’s not genuine, you’d rather not play along.

It’s clear he wants you to leave with the way he’s holding out the towel, surely wishing you’d cover up and go. You’re not surprised. You sit up, taking the towel and wrapping it around your body.

“C-minus,” you say.

“What?”

“Kidding,” you laugh. You stand to leave and decide to let him deal with the mess of caution tape on his floor, desperate to be alone so you can pull yourself together.

You go so suddenly that Rafe watches his door shut with confusion. He thought you’d wipe yourself down with the towel he gave you, maybe sit a while with him.

He oddly wanted you to stay a little bit. He liked joking around with you earlier tonight. It was fun.

But you were so eager to go. Probably because Rafe is the kind of guy you fuck and forget, and Blake is the kind of guy you make love to and stick around for.

He knows that he’s in a competition he’ll eventually lose because he can’t offer you a relationship. You said yourself he’d be the worst boyfriend ever the night he told you not to cuddle him.

But he’ll happily take these nights with you for as long as possible. And he’ll keep fighting for as many as he can.

When you make it to your dorm, you sit on your bed, breathless. Just when you think the sex can’t get any better with Rafe, it does.

He almost disappointed you with his lack of emotion afterwards, but you’re glad you didn’t give him the power to. He’ll always let you down in that department. As long as you keep any feelings for him at bay, you know you’ll be fine.

After you feel a bit calmer, you check your phone to see five texts.

Liv: didn’t get a chance to tell you but rafe is down BAD for you

Liv: when i told him you were upstairs with blake he looked like he was about to kill someone

Liv: hope you have fun lol :)

Liv: i sure am… i made out with sam after you left… oops

Then you see a block of text in the next notification.

Blake: Gotta be honest. I wanted to kiss you when we were in my room but you make me really nervous haha. Can I take you on a date? A real one. Not just a study date lol. All good if you’re not into it. Let me know.

(part eight)

author’s note: thank you anon for this iconic idea!!

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: Dry Humping w/ Spencer Reid

a/n: HEY HEY HEY!! so i am fully aware that spencer was a child during college, so this is an alternative universe where he's of the college age 💀 this is basically season one spencer cause i wanna eat him!!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

You didn't like how the other girls in the circle were looking at him. Their lustful eyes eating up a very nervous Spencer, the man playing with his fingers anxiously.

It was obvious that he wasn't used to being in places like this; where everyone was drunk, high or both, couples and randoms making out and practically fucking in every dark corner of the room. You never thought that you'd see The Spencer Reid, your college campus' genius, sitting in a spin the bottle circle in a random frat house.

You had no idea who convinced the poor boy that doing this was a good idea, but you would be damned if any other one of these girls were to get their hands on him. You liked him first — not just liked him — you claimed him. Everyone in your group knew that you liked him, so the fact that they had the fucking gall to look at him that way knowing you were there pissed you off.

"Alright, everybody!" A random bro shouted from on top of one of the dining room tables. "We were going to play Spin The Bottle, but I figured it'd be better if we play Seven Minutes in Heaven, seeing as though we have a special guest here with us tonight."

You knew exactly who he was talking about, and as your eyes lifted to look at Spencer, his gaze was already settled on you, but once he saw you were looking at him, he looked away bashfully. His face flushed a pretty red and so did his ears, and you could practically see the blood threatening to spill from his cuticles as he picked at them.

Your eyes narrowed at the jock angrily, every part of your body yelling at you to tend to Spencer.

But you swallowed it down.

A large group of people gathered around, and then the first spin of the night began. People were gleefully coming and going from the closet, a few of the couples manipulating the bottle so that it landed on them.

"Oh, shit!" One of the frat bros called out loudly. You looked curiously to see all eyes locked on you and Spencer, the tip pointing at you and the end pointing at him.

You must admit, you were a bit… known… around school. You wouldn't say you were popular, now that was a bit childish, but you definitely had connections in a couple different places.

The poor man looked almost frantic, looking at you then looking back down, almost as if saying you didn't have to. Oh, but you did.

"Seven minutes, pretty boy. C'mon." You said as you got up. His eyes were as big as saucers, his mouth gaping akin to like a fish would. You straightened your tight dress, reaching out a well manicured hand.

"If you want this to be over sooner then get up." You whispered sternly. He scrambled to interlock your fingers, and you lead him to the closet that was already significantly hot from the amount of bodies that had been in there already.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to." You reassured. "No, no… I-I want to, it's just…" He babbled, wringing his hands. "It's just what?" You pushed, stepping closer to him. He gulped, backing up slightly and knocking into the shelves behind him.

"I just don't know how." He didn't know how to make you feel good, how to pleasure you. He was embarrassed to admit to the girl that he liked, who was also totally out of his league, that he was a virgin.

"Why did you come here, then?" You questioned with a slight smirk. "Because… because you were here and I wanted to uh- maybe- I don't know-" You cupped his face, stroking his cheeks.

"Kiss me then, Spence."

"Wh- what?!" He stuttered.

"I said," You spoke, your lips brushing against his, "Kiss me." He gulped, looking down at your lips back up to your eyes, then back down to your lips again.

"Okay." He breathed.

He leaned forward, albeit hesitantly, and pressed your lips together. It started out slow, but with a lot of coaxing from you, he got comfortable. Your lips moved in tandem as the room heated up. You had no idea what had come over you when you placed both of his hands on your ass.

"Touch me." You breathed heavily. Your breasts pressed tauntingly into his chest, his cock hardening embarrassingly fast. "Are you sure?" You nodded. "Please."

He tested the waters with a light squeeze before shoving your hips together. His body stuttered as a loud whine fell from his mouth. You could feel his bulge against your plush body and Spencer wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole.

"Sorry, sorry." His apologies were frantic, but your nerves burned with need. "I'm fine with you grinding on me, baby." You reassured. "In fact, I like it." Normally, you wouldn't say you carried a dominating energy with you, but it was like you wanted to swallow the poor boy whole.

"Oh, God." He whimpered, but nonetheless joined your lips back together. You slipped your plush thigh through his legs, pressing it on his cock.

His hips jutted out, and you swallowed his cry. His grips on your ass turned deathly as he humped your leg like a bitch in heat.

"That feel good?" You cooed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

He nodded fastly, his lips pressed together and his eyes closed. He was lost in the feeling of the friction, perspiration beading on his hairline. You practially eat the sight of his deep red face up.

"You're mine. Alright, pretty boy?" You asked ferociously. You wrentched his head back, sinking your teeth into the sensitive skin of his neck. He nodded. "Say it." He yelped when you nipped at his adams apple.

"I'm yours, fuck- all yours!"

Your stomach twisted with a pleasant warm feeling, which only increased rapidly which you felt his thrusts grow sloppy.

"You gonna cum, honey?" You asked through your marking. "Yes, yes, yes…" He babbled. "Good. Cum all over me." He let out one last loud moan before you felt the warmth of spend seep out and onto the hem of your dress.

There was a knock on the door.

"Okay, lovebirds. Time's up!"

You smirked at the fact that Spencer was shaking like a leaf in your hold.

"After this, we are so going to my dorm." You claimed. "Yes! Yeah, yeah… yes, please." He all but shouted.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Okay so thought would Astarion just be uber happy if tav is just clinging to him and is like let me stay here where it is safe for just a little longer pleaseee

I think I'm feeling the energy. And it's an actual drabble instead of a novel! Cw: In-game references, spoilers, but this is just some fluffy fluff fluff.

~

When Astarion made the decision to seduce you, it had been based in cold rationality. In the short time he had known you, you had proven to be intelligent, capable, attractive enough for sex to not feel like a total burden, and extremely hard to kill. Using a falsified relationship to wrap you around his finger was the easy choice for survival. And it did work, with varying results.

Because you provided many, many complications. Like the unfortunate reality that Astarion quickly had grown sincerely fond of you. Not only were you impressively competent, you were fun. Hilariously bitchy in a way that never failed to make him laugh. But you were still kind, kind in a meaningful way that Astarion was simply not used to.

It had felt like a shock when you were so adamant about his right to be his own person. When you didn't make him bite that drow cretin he was struck with the realization that you actually cared about him. What that thing had been offering in return would no doubt have been useful to your journey, but you didn't even give it a second thought. And Astarion wouldn't soon forget how you saying, "He said no," with so much conviction had sent a shiver up his spine.

Perhaps the whole event sent him into a tailspin that ended with him admitting his, in-hindsight, horrible plan, but it had been worth it in the end. Gods knows why, but you didn't abandon him when he revealed the truth. You just listened. You listened and opened up your mind for him to see just how much you cared for him. A care he perhaps didn't deserve, but one he would take. Even if he had no idea what the two of you were doing anymore.

But he did know that something shifted in your relationship after that, the birth of a new kind of trust. Apparently, Astarion hadn't been the only one holding back.

Because seemingly overnight, you got a lot more touchy. A facet of yourself that he really had not seen coming. Not sexually, no. You had been nothing but a dream when it came to understanding the hang-ups he had with that particular topic. But you did suddenly decide that you loved holding hands. You loved hugging him, for no reason at all. The two of you went from the occasional night together before parting ways to simply sharing a tent. And gods were you a cuddler. Every morning he would wake up with you wrapped around him, peaceful and at ease as you slept in his arms.

And... it was nice. Really, really nice. Astarion had always assumed that he would loathe being with someone who was so tactile. But it turned out when every little touch wasn't leading to mediocre and/or horrifying sex they were actually quite enjoyable. It felt good to have you so close, to know that you felt safe and comfortable with him of all people. Nice enough for Astarion to slowly get addicted to it. He wasn't quite sure when his favorite past time became reading while you laid on top of him, but he knew it claimed to top spot with startlingly speed.

Even now, with Cazador still looming, the tadpoles still squirming behind your eyes, worries and responsibilities abound, Astarion felt completely at peace. He was laying flat on his back on his bed roll, a book in one hand and the other carefully petting your hair as you dozed off; your body completely draped over him. He'd have to wake you sooner than later. Baldur's Gate was only a day's journey away now, and if you wanted to make it there before nightfall then everyone would have to get moving. He could already hear the sound of the others shuffling about.

He snapped his book shut, setting it to the side before he gently shook you, "It's time to rise and shine darling, Baldur's Gate won't be saving itself."

You mumbled as you buried your face into his chest, your words slurred, "Don't wanna. Too early."

That was another change with this newfound phase of trust. Astarion had become the only person who knew your little secret of not being a morning person. In the first few moments of wakefulness, you were at your clingiest, your whiniest, surprisingly your most honest, and arguably your most adorable state of the day. A fact that you actively hid from the rest of the group out of sheer embarrassment, but Astarion thought it was cute.

Not to mention that it made him feel special, oddly enough. That he was the only one who was allowed to see you like this; who could take care of you like this.

Astarion laughed at your response, "Tell that to the sun sweetheart. It's high-time we got going."

Despite his own words, he wasn't really doing much to move the process along. If anything he was hindering it when he wrapped his arms around you, only helping to make you more comfortable instead of less.

But then again, maybe he wasn't quite ready to let you go yet either.

You shook your head against him, your hands tightening on the fabric of his shirt, "Le'mme stay, just a little longer."

"That's easy for you to say when you're not the one to get Lae'zel's wrath," Astarion lightly argued, still making no moves to actually hurry this process along. But it was true, Lae'zel always blamed your lateness on him, her favoritism towards you blatantly obvious. The bitch. But at least she was a bitch with good taste, "I would prefer not to be murdered by a gith for being tardy."

But you were already back to being half-asleep, your internal filter completely disintegrated as you mumbled, "Feels safe here, with you. Don't wanna let it go yet. Please?"

Gods, how the in the nine hells was Astarion supposed to say no to that? He didn't. Instead the grip he had on you only tightened, the happy little sigh you let out at the movement striking him straight through the heart. He felt so... happy in that moment, through nothing more than the simplicity of holding you. Because you trusted him. You felt safe with him, which might as well have been a love confession in Astarion's world. It felt so good to have this, an intimacy that he'd been denied for centuries.

Astarion settled back, letting his own eyes close as he smiled. The others would get the two of you eventually, but until then he wasn't going anywhere. No, the two of you would be staying right here.

[ghostofwriting]

riding the edge (smau): eight

R.C x Reader

Synopsis: Rafe Cameron is a "bad boy" motorcycle creator known for his thrilling rides and shameless thirst traps, which attract a massive following. Y/N is a thoughtful and passionate Bookstagram influencer who thrives on sharing deep literary insights and reviewing the top trending books.

part nine

[deathbyday]

-'⁠🫧*⁠.⁠✧ mouthwashing ✧.⁠*⁠🫧'⁠ -

P8

EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT.

Daisuke x implied F!Reader

TW: hallucinating, weapons, death, puke, cannibalism

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Written By: DeathByDay

(Also written on Mobile)

0 HOURS UNTIL JUDGEMENT

Seeing your loved one’s face sliced by the hands of yourself made you sick. You felt saliva gargle in your throat, triggering you to puke on the ground, droplets falling onto your jumper.

You were lucky enough to turn your body, leaning down before letting out the gruesome sound, followed by the liquid. You gasped, staring at the scene in shock. Tears flooded your eyes, rolling down your cheeks and onto the pile of puke.

Your breathing quickened, the tears swallowing your vision. Everything was blurry. You regretted what you had done, but it was necessary. He needed to go, otherwise he would’ve just suffered. Just like Curly.

Your eyes widen more, remembering the man in bandages who laid in the medical room. You instantly gained the strength to stand, ignoring the calls of Swansea behind you.

You ran to the room, your legs shaking as you walked inside. You lifted your hand, hiding the poor black haired woman from your view, settling your eyes on Curly. There he sat, his eye right on you.

Stepping over Anya, you placed your free hand on the side of the medical bed, staring down on him. You looked crazy. Sweat pooling over your forehead, hair matted and sticking out of place. Not to mention the tears, eyes widened and all.

You didn’t say anything, instead lifting the bandaged man in your arms. Although he was only flesh and bones, his body weight was still fairly heavy. You struggled to carry him, grunting as you stepped out of the room.

You needed to get Curly out of there and fast. You couldn’t let Jimmy get to him, knowing what he was capable of. You were too dumb to realize it before. It only took a friend and lover to figure everything out.

As you walked, you stared ahead of you, feeling Curly’s eye watch your every move. “It’s going to be okay.” You repeat to yourself, eyes darting around the hallway. You couldn’t let the brunette man know where you were.

Suddenly, you paused. You glanced down at Curly before grinning, relief washing over your features. “W-..Wait here.” You muttered, setting him down. His body laid flat on the hard metal ground, pain itching his body.

You ran back into the medical room, lowering your body to the bed before pulling out a briefcase. Your memory was a bit faded, but you could still recall the code to get inside.

You accidentally stumbled upon Anya in the medical room one day, who slid a briefcase into a little compartment in the bed. You wouldn’t let her leave until she would tell you the code, complaining that you may need it for safety.

In an instant, you rolled the correct numbers on the lock, hearing a click of the case before it slightly opened the latch. You fully open it to see the same gun that the woman had told you about.

After grabbing the weapon and making sure it was loaded, you ran back towards Curly, seeing him in the same position as before. Your grin softened, shoving the gun into your back pocket before picking up the man once again.

Making your way through the halls, you ended up finding the brunette you really didn’t want to see in the halls beside utility. He held Swansea’s axe in his hand, glaring at you from the other side of the hallway.

You couldn’t take out the gun without dropping Curly first. And you certainly didn’t want to risk his life. So, you stood still, frozen in fear and hesitation. You were almost to the Cryostasis pods. Why did he have to come out now..?

You opened your mouth to speak, but Jimmy cut you off with a chuckle. “Are you that fucking stupid?” His voice was quiet, but you could still hear him clearly. His tone was harsh, almost as an attempt to make you scared.

And it worked a little too well. Almost immediately, you forgot all your fears and held Curly up with one arm, his unbalanced legs barely touching the ground. Your arm wrapped over his chest, holding his upper body.

You grab the gun out of your back pocket, pointing it at the brunette. Yet, he didn’t drop his act. In fact, he got closer, taking light steps towards your figure.

“Go away!” You shout, backing away from the manYou choked back a sob, not ready to kill another person in the span of under a day. “I said go away!” You scream once again. Curly watched the scene in front of him, not know what to think.

Your poor, pathetic self couldn’t shoot the damn guy, yet that same guy was ready to axe your head off with no hesitation. If he could, he would’ve just taken that gun from your hand and shoot him himself.

But, that was only if he still had arms. He could’ve protected you, helping you get away from this whole thing. But that’s not how this story goes. Before his mind could go any further, your voice pulled him out.

“Please, just go!” You shout at the man who now stood a few feet away from you. Suddenly, you felt a slight breeze hit your shoulder. You choked back a sob, taking your eyes off Jimmy and adverting them to the side, wondering what hit you.

You heard an older man’s voice in your right ear, being muffled for a moment before shouting at you. You recognized that voice as Swansea’s.

“Shoot that bastard!” He would cry. “C’mon, just do it!” As he plead with you, your mind suddenly went blank. You couldn’t focus on anything but his voice.

Your breathing became faster, the weapon shaking in your hand, your palm getting sweaty from the pressure. You stepped back once more, finally hitting the metal wall behind you. As the voice of Swansea would continue, you finally pulled the trigger.

Jimmy fell back, the bullet landing in between his eyes. You stood there, staring at him as blood oozed out of his head. You fought the urge to puke once again, glancing down at Curly.

The voice of Swansea finally stopped, your mind becoming fuzzy. Your vision became a blur.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” You whisper, lowering yourself to the ground, knees to the floor. You cradled his head to your chest, wrapping your arms around his fleshed body. Relief washed through your veins, realizing the man who rose up for hell was finally gone.

He was on the ground, a bullet in his head. He was dead. You were free, but not for long. You didn’t have any food left, not even mouthwash. You sighed, taking one last glance at Curly before lifting him up into your arms.

You step around the body of Jimmy, not bearing a single eye down towards him. You turn to walk into the utility room, ready to end this nightmare. You groan, struggling to open the Cryostasis pod’s door. After a few seconds, you finally got it open.

You widen it with your foot before setting the wounded man in the compartment, leaning forward to do so. You unwrap your arms from him, staring into his one eye as you shut the door. You then turn to the small screen to the side, hesitating before pressing the freeze button.

You heard muffled cries from Curly, causing you to lift your head to him. You watch as the window becomes blurry, his figure fading from your vision. The cries suddenly stop, making you aware that he was gone.

Your hands formed fists before you left the utility room, guilt spreading in your blood like jelly. Your legs shook as you walked back into the lounge area, the air heavy.

The people you cared about were gone. You murdered one of them, the other gone on their own. The monster who started this paid for it, but the guilt couldn’t just be washed away with water.

Tears flooded for eyes for what seems to be the tenth time that day as you dropped to the ground, curling in on yourself. You wrap your arms around yourself, forehead hitting the floor.

Opening your mouth, you screamed. It was raspy, full of emotion. It hurt, but you couldn’t stop. You felt that familiar touch on your shoulder, causing you to scream louder, this time with words.

“No, don’t touch me!” You cried, attempting to shake the hand off. But it wouldn’t let go. You continued to cry, your body trembling from the weight of the hand. “Stop it, go away!” But it wouldn’t. It felt so real.. like someone was really behind you.

The weight of the hand became heavier as if it was trying to cause you pain. You shook your head, tightly shutting your eyes. “It’s okay.” Someone spoke in your ear, attempting to ease your mind.

You recognized that voice as soon as your ears registered it. You opened your eyes, glancing towards the side where the voice came from. There, you saw it. A brunette haired man who had an axe through his face. The same brunette who held a special connection to you.

You stared in shock for a few moments, trying to process what was happening. “Daisuke..?” You whisper, releasing your tight hold on yourself. Your fingers swept the metal ground, cold as ice. Your boyfriend only grinned, causing you to instantly embrace him.

As soon as you did so, he disappeared. Your eyes widened, staring at your hands in disbelief as they sat in your lap. You turned your head back towards the real Daisuke’s body, seeing it still lie on the floor.

“No..” You muttered, your body turning around before you crawl towards him. After a few moments, you sat in front of him, staring at his axe’d face. This time, you were too exhausted to puke or even cry.

You just stared, your breath at a normal pace for the first time in ages. You felt your body become weaker due to starvation. You haven’t drunken the mouthwash for a while now, making your stomach rumble, begging for something.

You glanced over his figure, disgust flowing through your body. You knew what you were about to do. He was dead. He wouldn’t feel it. He’d probably want you to eat him if it meant for your survival. You took a deep breath in before leaning over his forearm.

You held it in your hands, fingers grazing his skin. You opened your mouth before lowering your teeth, biting into his flesh. You softly groaned, closing your eyes. You tried to imagine his skin as meat. After all, it technically is.

But it wouldn’t work. You pulled on his skin, taking a small chunk of it off. You chew, ignoring the way your stomach twisted. After a few seconds you finally swallow, the taste of metal sitting on your tongue.

You lifted your head, staring at the corner of the ceiling. Red liquid spilt out of your mouth, dribbling down your chin. You let out a soft giggle, a bit embarrassed as if the crew was actually beside you, watching you eat Daisuke’s skin.

“I-..I’m sorry.” You chuckle, leaning your upper body on your boyfriend. Your forehead rests on his chest, wishing that his heartbeat was still there. “I don’t know what I just did, but ‘m sorry..” You stumble on your words like a drunk person.

“I’m so, so.. sorry, my sweet b-..” Cutting yourself off, you let out a small whine. You weren’t yourself. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Your brows turn upwards, tears falling down your cheeks, replacing the dried ones. They drop onto Daisuke’s clothed chest as you snuffle, tightening your grip on his arm. “What the fuck did I do..?!”

Cries spill out from your mouth, gradually getting louder as time passes on. Your body slowly shuts down, feeling the coldness of Daisuke’s arm in the grasp of your fingers. Blood spills out of your mouth, dripping onto his chest.

Your cries slowly calm, feeling the deprivation of sleep take a toll on you. One hand let go of his arm, wrapping your own around his torso. Your breath settled, eyes finally shutting after fighting to stay open for too long.

“I’m sorry..”

______

Those were the last words uttered from your mouth. The beating of your heart slowly withered away, skin decaying as you stayed in your spot beside Daisuke, barely moving.

There was no point in trying to survive anymore. There was no point in trying to escape the aching pain that laid upon you. You had given up. You knew it would end up with you dying in the end, but you never thought it would happen like this.

Your stomach continued to twist in knots as if it were begging you to eat something. But you couldn’t. You were too weak at this point. Licking your chapped lips, you stared at Daisuke.

You imagined he was still there, smiling beside you with his arms wrapped around your waist. But his touch was cold. One that was one warm and loving, now turned rough and cold.

Each day you opened your eyes, it got harder to do so. Day, after day, after day, you were just hoping you suddenly fell limp, heart finally stopping it’s rhythm. After staring at your boyfriend’s body for a few minutes, your eyes felt heavy.

You didn’t fight back this time. As soon as you shut them, the pain stopped. It was like it was never there to begin with. Your heartbeat slowed, your fingers gently curling around your palm.

You felt free for the first time in ages. Free at last, your lover beside you. The only person who understood you. Your body fell limp, letting out one last breath.

If someone were to tell you this is how you would die as you were boarding the space freighter, you would’ve chuckled before they finished their sentence.

You’ve heard many horror stories about people dying in space. Either due to suicidal thoughts or because of their idiotic behavior. You didn’t know which category you fell into, though.

It wasn’t like that mattered anyway. You were free. You were gone from the shitty hellhole called Tulpar.

Maybe in another life, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe you were living in a mansion with a loving husband. But, not in this universe.

Sometimes, stories don’t have an happy ending. Sometimes you just have to accept your fate, and that’s okay. You did what you could, and that’s what matters.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

authors note

thank you all for supporting this story throughout the past month or two. it means so much knowing i’ve gotten many people to see my work.

this fanfic has come to an end. but, there may be a few one shots aside this, showing more of interactions between the reader and the crew.

but again, thank you all. i appreciate each and every one of you. goodbye for now<3

[biteofcherry]

Echo that thunders

Bucky Barnes x female reader

summary: The life you and Bucky built has crumbled. Or so you think. But maybe some ruins can be reconstructed, if true love is given a chance?

warnings: angst; lots of feels; hurt/comfort; divorced couple; mention of past infidelity; marital problems; both Reader and Bucky are self-blaming and self-punishing idiots; and obviously are still deeply in love; they need therapy and I encourage that; reconciling intimacy (yes, I mean sex with feelings and tears); Alpine is almost squeezed to death with love (truly affectionately);

word count: 6k

Author's Note: This is my entry for Eight Types of Love challenge from @the-slumberparty. I took a twist on pragma: exes with feelings.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Every week the hollow in your chest would ache and you’d try to cram it with sweetness of fleeting moments: catching the pure joy and love on your little boy’s face, mulling your sorrow with pastries that you’d eat alone, then quiet your longing with laughter and shouts of your friends. 

You made it look like it was easy, like you didn’t die a little every damn Friday when you drove your son to his father’s place. 

Maybe you’d feel better if it was the mother missing her baby boy for the weekend, but the wounds opened not for the few days of empty nest, but because seeing Bucky ripped you to pieces. 

You wouldn’t avoid it, though. He loved your son so much, was so happy to spend every possible day with him and you would never take that away from either of them. 

Even if it hurt. 

Truth be told, you wouldn’t let anyone take that away from you, either. Because the pain of seeing Bucky was also sprinkled with that fluttering, bittersweet feeling. Love that you still harbored. 

You didn’t think it was possible to ever stop loving Bucky. 

As you proved, it was possible to divorce him, but it didn’t sever the hold he had on your heart and soul. 

So you welcomed the ache in your chest as an invisible iron fist clenched its cold claws around your heart, when Bucky smiled and waved at you from the sidewalk in front of his building. You knew he waved at your little boy, who was already bouncing in his seat, but you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your lips in return.

“Hi, rascals!” Bucky greeted you, the same way he’s been greeting the both of you ever since your son was born. 

He waited for you to round the car after you parked it, loosely wrapping an arm around your middle and giving you that awkward half-hug. 

You assumed it was as awkward for him as it was for you, though for different reasons.

Bucky was simply nice, trying his hardest to maintain a good rapport with you for the sake of your son, while he had to be repulsed by you inwardly. For you, the hug was difficult, because you always craved to bury yourself within his arms and feel that protective, loving hold. 

“Hi,” you smiled and ducked under his arm, before he noticed that pathetic longing shining in your eyes. 

You went to retrieve a small bag and backpack with Stevie’s clothes and belongings, while Bucky unbuckled your son from the car seat and scooped the boy up in his arms. Joyous squeal “Daddy!” melted you all over again, reminding you how ecstatic the boy was every time Bucky returned home - no matter if he’s been gone a few days on a mission, or just an hour running errands. 

When you turned to them, the sight of them grinning at each other froze you on the spot. You were aware that Stevie shared some of Bucky’s mimics, but it was that moment when your boy pressed his cheek to Bucky’s and they both looked your way with lopsided grins that shattered your heart into pieces. 

You squashed the flare of sorrow inside, saving it for later when you’re alone with a pint of ice cream. 

Bucky had suggested a couple of times that he could come pick Stevie up from your place, but you were too scared of seeing Bucky back in the apartment where you all used to live together. Where the love and happiness were supposed to be forever. 

You were scared he’d come inside and see that you still had a few photographs of him on the shelves. 

You reasoned that it was for the sake of your son, so that he felt his dad’s presence at all times, but you couldn’t fully let go of Bucky yourself. 

“Hey,” Bucky took the bag from your hands, but left you holding Stevie’s backpack. “Can you come upstairs for a second? I wanted to talk something over.”

He always invited you under the pretext of talking over some details regarding Stevie, but ended up dealing with it in two sentences and then coaxing you into a neutral small talk that left you all the more missing him. 

Yet you couldn’t force yourself to say no. 

“Sure.” You nodded, squeezing the strap of the small, red backpack in your trembling fingers. 

Bucky’s apartment, which he got after you filed for divorce, was small, but clean and spacious enough for a four year old and a cat.   

Alpine stuck her head from behind a wall when you entered. She made a tiny meowing sound and walked forward, but the second Bucky put your son on his feet the cat bolted away. Stevie of course followed, running after the furball with glee.

“So I know there’s still plenty of time to plan summer vacation-” Bucky started, leading you toward the counter separating the kitchen from the living room- “but Sam invited us to Louisiana, to spend a few weeks at his sister’s place.”

“Oh.” It was instinctive, that very first thought about your baby boy being away for weeks. In a different state, nonetheless. 

However, you promised yourself to not be an overprotective, controlling mother. And you trusted Bucky with your son at all times. 

“That sounds fun.” You relaxed your shoulders and smiled. “I’m sure Stevie will love it. Especially if you take him on a boat.”

He was in a marine fascination phase. At least once every few weeks you had to go to the aquarium and turn on Discovery channel instead of morning cartoons. 

“Maybe I’ll manage to re-do his bedroom, while he’s away with you,” cogs in your brain started turning. “It’d be a fun surprise when he gets back.” 

“Won’t you need help with that?” Bucky asked, perking up. “We could do that on the weekend when he’s with your parents? You know I’d be happy to help. We can rope Sam into it, too.”

He sounded so eager. For a fleeting moment you enjoyed the warmth at the thought of the two of you doing something for your son together, but you quickly reminded yourself that Bucky would do absolutely anything for Stevie, including dealing with your presence.    

“Umm, sure,” you swallowed nervously, “if you’re not on a mission.”

You regretted saying it, seeing a flash of guilt on Bucky’s face. 

It was a sore subject and bringing it up hurt you both. 

You always admired Bucky for what he did, how much he risked to save others. It didn’t change the fact, however, that saving the world meant neglecting you at times. He tried his best, you knew he did. Still, it hurt when you spent some nights and celebrations alone. 

“We’ve made some changes on the rooster.” Bucky didn’t look at you as he talked, instead focusing on taking out ingredients from the fridge. “It’s doable to book some dates as non-active.”

“That’s good!” You tried to sound genuinely happy for him, while inside you felt a wave of rage that the accommodation wasn’t made when you needed it in the past. “All of you deserve rest and to, you know, live your private lives, too.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky’s shoulders drove up in tension even as he nodded. 

You stayed quiet for a long moment, the sound of your son’s giggles coming from the bedroom where he chased Alpine filled the space, but didn’t ease the sudden heaviness. 

“I better-” you started at the same time that Bucky began:

“Do you want to-”

Both of you paused, but before either motioned at the other to finish, you were interrupted by a pitiful meow and soft paddle of your four year old’s feet.

You both turned and watched your son wobble as he carried Alpine. Though carried was a bit of a stretch to describe two tiny arms tightly wrapped around the upper half of the cat’s body, with its head barely sticking out and two front legs sticking upwards while the rest of the furry body dangled down. 

You quickly covered your mouth to stifle the burst of laughter, but Bucky behind you couldn’t help the snort. 

“Buddy.” He moved around the counter and crouched in front of Stevie. “Alpine knows you love her lots and want to play with her, but this is a bit uncomfortable for her.”

You thought the cat is an actual saint for not having yet scratched Stevie for all the love she was getting from him. 

“Hey!” You chimed in, reaching for the small backpack. “You forgot about the present you have for Alpine.”

“Mousey!” Stevie dropped the cat almost instantly and ran towards you. 

“A present, huh?” Bucky placated Alpine, scratching her behind the ear while she rubbed against his leg. 

“Made it with mommy!” Your son beamed proudly after you fished out the small toy from his backpack. “For artses-” which was his version of saying art classes. “But mommy said it’s perfect for Apine.”

It was a bright blue, slightly askew, crocheted mouse. With a very, very long tail. You thought it would be perfect for Stevie to hold the end of the tail and slide the mouse across the floor, so Alpine could chase it.

“It really is,” Bucky nodded, noticing that the soft toy had caught Alpine’s attention. “Why don’t you run around with it, play nicely with Alpine, while I make us spaghetti?”

Stevie didn’t have to be told twice. Alpine seemed eager for this kind of play, as well. Chasing a new toy surely was more preferable than being squeezed to death. 

Bucky straightened. His tall, broad figure filled your vision. He was much closer now, with no counter separating you. He looked after your son fondly, then his soft gaze switched to you. Not for a second did the affection fade in his eyes as he looked at you. 

“Thank you,” he almost whispered, touching your shoulder gently.

You wanted to blurt out that there was nothing to thank for, but you understood what he meant. The same way you were grateful for his concern whenever you had a cold and he took Stevie so you could rest (bringing you some chicken broth on his way), or that he picked you up when your car died. The small gestures each of you displayed, that betrayed care neither of you seemed to be able to lose. 

Bucky’s hand slowly slid down your arm and because you were so lost in the blue of his eyes and the tenderness of the moment, you forgot to brace yourself for the small sting that his touch brought when he passed your forearm.

You winced. 

Unfortunately, Bucky noticed.

Instantly, he stilled. His hand remained on your forearm, but his touch eased. His gaze flicked from your face to the spot covered by your sleeve and up to your face again. 

“What is it?” Worry pinched his features. “Are you injured?”

He moved even closer, angling his head so he could maintain eye contact with you, even though he towered over you. He gently took your wrist into his metal hand and carefully rolled your sleeve up. 

“It’s nothing. It’s-” 

Words died on your tongue when Bucky’s gaze hardened, a muscle in his jaw twitching, as his gaze landed on the injured spot. 

There were no visible bruises. Not to you, anyway. You mostly felt the tenderness of that area than saw any marks. But Bucky’s senses were enhanced and he definitely could see the difference in the smallest changes of your skin, the barest hint of different pigmentation. 

And, much to your dismay, you could never lie to him. 

“Who did that?” Bucky kept calm, but you sensed the concern bursting into protective rage inside of him. 

“Someone, who is no longer in the picture.” You replied, tilting your chin up. “I may have not expected it happening, but once it did, I wouldn’t chance it repeating.”

The whole attempt at dating was so uncomfortable for you, but seeing some pap pictures of Bucky with an unknown female had made you impulsively agree to the fifth invite from a guy from accountants. 

It was irrational and irresponsible - as some of your past mistakes. There was nothing that suggested Bucky and that woman were connected in any way beside the work area. They weren’t even alone in that place. It’s just that he had his hand on her back and she was giving him a flirtatious smile. 

Well, your jealous brain told you it’s flirtatious. The same brain that forgot to remind you that it was no longer your business if and whom Bucky was dating.

So you went on the stupid date yourself, feeling all kinds of wrong during it. Then got a glimpse of what shit you almost got yourself into, when you wanted to end your date short and the guy called you a tease. His hold on your forearm when you tried to leave was forceful enough to leave a painful reminder. 

“I’d still like to know the name.” Bucky’s gaze shone a dark glint; plates in his metal arm moved in a reflection of muscles tensing. 

“No need.” Placing your free hand on his chest to soothe him was a habit, you didn’t even realize you were doing it. “I promise you, he won’t ever find himself near Stevie.”      

Bucky frowned at that. Suddenly, he was letting go of your arm and cupping the side of your face instead.

“Baby,” it slipped out of his mouth as mindlessly and naturally as you touched him. 

“I know you’d never let anyone hurt our son. But no harm should come your way, either. The guy deserves having his fingers dislocated.”

Bucky wasn’t a violent person. His past, which was beyond his control, painted a certain picture that some people still believed in. But you knew how soft-hearted and kind he really was. He used force and combat in missions, but his teammates knew he would be the first one to show mercy and pull back his punches. 

However, he was protective. And when he entered that mode, he could be very scary. 

Your fingers on his chest clenched slightly, gripping the fabric of his soft, blue henley; as if you were trying to stop him from marching away and finding whoever posed as a threat.

You felt the steady thud of Bucky’s heartbeat beneath your palm, the rhythm of his breath. You sensed the moment his muscles slightly relaxed.

“How about-” hands cupping your face slowly slid down and away, but Bucky didn’t put any distance between you- “you stay for dinner and we’ll talk more about it later?” 

There was nothing to talk about, really. Or maybe there was, but it shouldn’t be Bucky giving you the talk. His concern only messed with your head and your heart, leaving you with incomparable longing and aching solitude when you went back home. 

You opened your mouth to refuse his proposal, but your son suddenly found himself nearby and torpedoed your resilience.

“You gonna stay mommy?” He looked up at you with big, hopeful eyes. 

Bucky and you made sure to be together for important events like Stevie’s birthday, or kindergarten recitals, or even for the 4th of July. But day to day everything happened separately. You didn’t share meals, or walks, or trips the way you used to when you were married. 

You were aware of the impact it had on your son, but one can’t be divorced and still spend every day with each other. 

However, you couldn’t find the strength at the moment to crush your son’s unexpected spark of joy at the prospect of something so simple like spending the afternoon with both of his parents. 

You couldn’t deny your deep, wallowing desire to spend some more time in Bucky’s presence, either. As self-harming as it could be. 

“Um-” you swallowed nervously as you looked down at your little boy. “Yeah- yes, I’ll stay. You know I always liked your daddy’s cooking.” 

Your heart nearly burst when Stevie launched himself forward, wrapping his small arms around yours and Bucky’s legs. Then he was running away, with even more bounce to his skip than before. 

To your relief, Bucky easily switched the topic to casual conversation as you joined him in the kitchen to help prepare dinner. He told you a few latest, funny stories; gushed about a new book series he started reading; asked about your dad’s knee surgery. 

Falling into this comfortable pattern of domesticity with him was too easy. Like you haven’t been living separately for the past year, nursing deeply hidden resentment (which you expected from Bucky) and heartbreak. You knew it would hit you harder when you got back home, step into that silent, empty bedroom, which once upon a time was your nest of safety, laughter and love. 

All of which you blew up. 

You didn’t protest too strongly when Bucky fed your son an extra portion of ice cream after dinner, you were too distracted with your own ache that was spreading its nasty vines over you. 

You played with the melting scoops in your own bowl as Bucky picked up a half-asleep Stevie and carried him to the bedroom. Alpine trotter right after them. From the occasional pictures that Bucky sent you when Stevie was staying at his place, you knew that the cat would jump onto the bed next to your boy and fall asleep with him. 

When Bucky returned and sat beside you on the couch, his presence almost toppled you into a sobbing fit. 

Once upon a time, you’d cuddle on the sofa in your living room and talk for hours, or watch shows, or make out. Even sitting in silence, while Bucky read a book and you browsed social media, was comforting and easy. 

There was nothing easy about it now. Because that desperate need to crawl into his arms and have him chase the sorrows away couldn’t be sated.  

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Bucky’s quiet voice surprised you.

You blinked as you looked at him, slightly confused with what he was talking about.

“I know you’re responsible and very strong. You’re more than capable of looking after yourself and don’t need my meddling in your intimate life.” He said, staring down at some spot and not meeting your eyes. 

The words intimate life sounded as if he almost choked on them.

“I know it’s too late to mend what I fucked up.” He sighed, bowing his head even lower.

Your heart ached, seeing him so resigned.

“James Buchanan Barnes, what the hell are you talking about?!” Instinct to rush to his aid kicked you from your stupor. 

The anger at yourself heightened as once again you saw first hand how much you hurt him. Bucky wasn’t flawless, but he didn’t deserve what you’ve put him through. To know that your actions added to his tendency to self-blame, only made you hate yourself more.

“It was me who fucked everything up.” You countered, setting the bowl on the coffee table with a loud thud. You shifted on the couch, turning your body so that you could face Bucky directly. 

“I broke what we had. I- I broke your heart and you never deserved such awful treatment!”

Neither of you deserved all that pain, but it was on you to take the responsibility for it.  

“I’m not gonna lie, the divorce hurt more than falling off that damn train…” Bucky’s voice quivered with emotion; his fingers shook slightly as he wiped his palms on his thighs.

“Divorce?” You paused, slightly stunned. “I mean, I know it was hard. For both of us. But I knew I needed to set you free after what I’ve done.” 

It was Bucky’s turn to frown, his muscles pinching in a quizzical look as if he didn't understand what you were aiming at, at all. 

“Bucky, I cheated on you!” You hissed loudly, but minding your voice enough to not wake your son.

There it was. The heaviest of truths which triggered the whole domino effect and which both of you avoided naming directly.

But Bucky deserved it - you admitting your faults. There was enough on his shoulders and you couldn’t stand the thought of him taking this burden onto him as well, when it was yours to pay for.

Bucky’s face cleared of confusion, however his frown deepened. 

“What I know is that you were hurt, alone and inebriated. A state some douchebag took advantage of.” There was an undertone of anger in his tone, but not directed at you.

You shook your head in exasperation. 

Leave it to Bucky Barnes to be an understanding, chivalrous knight. It was a wonderful trait, but shouldn’t apply on all occasions, to all people. It definitely should be directed at you. As much as you’d love to follow that reasoning, you had enough self-awareness and responsibility to not go easy on yourself.  

“Being drunk doesn’t excuse what I did.” You stated.

“It wouldn’t, if that was your aim.” Bucky argued. “But tell me, did you go to that bar because you were looking for a hookup? To get back at me?” He rushed with his counter arguments. 

When you tried to turn your head slightly to avoid his gaze, he squeezed your chin between his fingers and gently guided you to look back at him. 

It was hard. To face him when the memories of that awful evening replayed in your head, bringing back a wave of shame and regret. You vomited three days in a row after that night; and only the first half of the first day was due to the alcohol. All the rest was stress and guilt. 

“No, you didn’t.” Bucky continued when you remained silent. 

“You went there, because it was our anniversary and I wasn’t home. I was on a mission. Again,” he sighed regretfully, aware of how his absence weighed down on you. “You went to the bar which we often went to on our dates, before we got married. Probably cursing my ass for absence on another important day and drinking the pain away.”

That was true. Your parents took Stevie for the whole weekend, starting Friday. It was supposed to be a carefree, romantic time for you and Bucky. Even if he would need to just be lazy in bed for an entire day, to recharge after a mission, you still would be together. 

While Bucky returned from one mission, he jumped onto another one right away. He called you to say that he’d be later than he first anticipated, but in the craze of it forgot what date exactly was it. 

You were understanding. Or, well, you tried to be. There was a whole monologue you gave yourself as you paced the floor of your apartment, convincing yourself that your husband was saving someone. So that someone else could return to their family. 

But you still felt bitter and angry that your husband didn’t return to you for something that was supposed to be important to the both of you.

When you went out to that bar, which wasn’t that far from your place, your plan was to have a drink or two and wallow in self-pity. Perhaps to be passive-aggressive, take a picture of yourself all dolled up and send it to Bucky with happy anniversary wishes.

That was it.

Then that man joined you. For a conversation, at first. Two drinks turned into four. Then five. To be honest, at some point his face got a little blurry. He had dark hair, like Bucky. Had his arm wrapped around your middle the way Bucky often did. 

At some point your drunk brain was certain it was Bucky fucking you, not some stranger you just met at the bar.

“I could’ve chosen to stay at home.” You argued, clenching your fingers into fists so hard that your fingernails needled your skin. 

“I could have drunk a bottle or two of wine alone in the safety of our home and sent you angry, slurred messages. Or wait for your return and throw something heavy at your head.” There were so many choices to be made that night. 

“Instead, I made a mess of our lives…” the words fell out of your lips in a broken whisper, your eyes filling with tears.

“And I forgave you.” Bucky said softly as he released your chin. 

“Hell, I don’t even think I was angry with you.” He huffed, running a hand through his hair in a nervous manner. “Oh, I was pissed and hurt!” He gave you a pointed look when you opened your mouth to protest. “I even tracked that man and… well, let’s not talk about things that thankfully didn’t happen once I saw him.” 

“Most of all, I was angry with myself,” Bucky suddenly deflated.

“Why?” You frowned, barely stopping yourself from reaching out to caress his cheek.

“Because I let it happen.” Bucky sighed and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “It was my constant absence that started those clouds over our heads. I was so focused on redeeming myself that I took on more missions than I should.”

A part of you wanted to contradict him, to convince him that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. But there was also a part of you that was still resenting him for doing that, for constantly choosing others over you.

“I think I also wanted to feel needed, which is why I joined teams even though they could’ve handled things without my presence.” He shifted again, sitting across the couch with one leg bent, so he could face you fully. 

He was more hesitant as he reached out for you again. Though you didn’t flinch away, he still dropped his hand as he revealed his own guilt:

“I forgot that you needed me, too.”

You still did. But you wouldn’t dare to tell him that.

“What you do is important. You save lives.” You said quietly, but there wasn’t as much heat to it as you’d like to present.

“I didn’t save us.” Bucky’s words opened the gate to the feelings you tried to stifle for many months.

You almost lifted your fist to angrily rub away the tears threatening to spill, but Bucky reached for you faster. His warm palms rested on your fists; he squeezed them gently.

“Baby, I remember when you mentioned therapy.” He admitted, wincing at the memory of signals which he ignored. “You tried to say it so casually, I know you were afraid of telling me directly that you needed me to save our marriage. I dismissed it.” 

“You hate therapy. I didn’t want to force you into it.” There wouldn’t be any point in attending any sessions, if Bucky would stay guarded.

You understood his hesitance, too. The mandatory therapy he went to a few years back was hard for him, not only because of the topics he had to deal with, but he didn’t feel emotionally safe or comfortable with the appointed professional.

“I disliked my assigned therapist.” Bucky pointed out, with a slight eye roll. “There are hundreds of therapists in this city. I’m sure there’s at least one that I could connect with.” Suddenly, he shook his head. “Or hell with how much I like a therapist, it should be about me connecting with you!”  

He let go of your hands and cupped your face instead.

“I wonder-” he leaned forward, closing the distance between you. “I’ve been wondering, if I didn’t fuck up by signing those divorce papers so easily.”

He did it without much questioning. Which only strengthened your notion that he was repulsed by you and couldn’t wait to be as far from you as possible. You didn’t blame him.

“I understood that. After what I’ve done.” You whispered. 

A single tear rolled down your cheek, stopping on Bucky’s thumb. 

“I couldn’t look you in the eye, because I was so ashamed. I wanted to give you a chance to find someone worthy of you.” More tears flowed.

Bucky tenderly wiped them away.

“I don’t think I’m worth a single hair on your pretty head.” He said, resting his forehead against yours. “I signed those papers, because I thought you were going to find happiness with someone else. That you wanted to build a life with someone else.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” You would shake your head, if Bucky wasn’t holding you in place.

If his hold didn’t feel so overwhelmingly wonderful.

“Why not?” Bucky asked, incredulously. “You’re the most amazing, kind, smart, beautiful-” 

“Because I’m in love with you.” You blurted out.

Your eyes widened when you realized what you said. Scorching shame mixed with a sudden wave of cold fear as Bucky slowly pulled away and stared at you in shock. 

He was still cupping your face, though.

“Say that again, baby?” Bucky’s tone was a whisper, like he was afraid he’d burst some magical bubble if he moved or spoke louder. “Please,” he squeezed your cheeks slightly.

Maybe the best choice would be to take those words back. Or to start listing all the arguments to why it didn’t matter. But you couldn’t lie to Bucky. You never could. Especially not when he was looking at you with those beautiful blue eyes, filled with hope.

“I love you, Bucky,” you confessed. “I never stopped loving you.”

Tears streaming down your face were warm, but they felt much colder when compared to the warmth of Bucky’s lips on yours. 

He kissed you with reverence and despair, like the first gulp of breath after drowning in murky waters for much too long. There was nothing but his closeness, beckoning you like a flare in the darkness. You followed the coaxing of his lips, the unspoken vows he sealed with his mouth. 

You weren’t even fully aware of your body moving, yielding to Bucky’s smooth maneuvers. Until the full weight of him rested on top of you. 

He provided both that shield of safety and heavy temptation that had your legs spreading to accommodate him.

“I never stopped, either.” Bucky croaked out as he broke the kiss; his lips still brushed against yours as he spoke.

“I love you so much. So much, baby.” It crushed your heart to see his own cheeks glistening with tears. “Please, can we try again? Let me mend it. Please.” He begged.

Bucky sounded so helpless and so hopeful at the same time. If your heart was set in cold stone, it would still shatter for him like a fragile glass. 

“I should be the one mending it,” you pressed your fingertips to his cheek.

“Us. We’re going to do this together,” he briefly closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. 

“Always together,” you agreed and tipped your lips upwards, tempting Bucky into another kiss. 

Months of distance surely added fuel to the fire of need, but Bucky’s touch always had the power to ignite your desire. Him being on top of you, the kiss deepening, his hand traveling down your side - your body responded instantly. 

You wrapped your arms around him; one hand combing through his hair, the other mapping his broad back. Your legs were already spread to accommodate his hips between yours, but as Bucky continued to kiss and touch you, your knees drew up higher and your hips rolled against him.

Bucky’s responding grinding was most welcome, but he suddenly froze. 

“Baby,” he groaned, almost in pain. “I don’t want to ruin the moment, but if you keep doing that I’m going to lose it.”

“Need you,” you whined. 

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and slipped your other hand beneath his blue henley. You bit your bottom lip as you looked at him and rocked your hips into his once again.

“Need to feel you!” 

For months you were deprived of any intimate touch, somehow not in the mood to even give yourself a release with your pitiful toys. To even think of anyone beside Bucky ever touching you like that made you nauseous. And you missed it so much!

Missed the way Bucky played your body. The way he felt inside of you. 

“Bucky, please!” There was urgency in your tone that made Bucky snap to attention.

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, as if assessing that you were as sure as you sounded. A glint brightened his steel blue eyes and he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip in the most sensual way. That had your clit pulsing wildly. 

“You always beg so prettily,” he murmured against your skin as began chaining kisses along your jawline. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Bucky braced his weight on his metal arm as he used his other hand to pull up the layers of your tulle skirt. You shivered, nipples pebbling, as his touch shifted to the inside of your thigh and wandered upwards. 

He pressed the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, finding your panties already damp. It wasn’t a novelty how quickly your body responded to Bucky’s ministrations, but it seemed that longing for him sped up the process. 

Bucky swallowed your moan in a messy kiss as he pressed harder on your nub. While you loved the way he sometimes drew this pleasure out, how long he could spend just fingering and licking you, it wasn’t what you needed at the moment. 

You dropped both of your hands to his hips then slid them between your bodies to fumble with Bucky’s zipper.

“Fuck!” He cursed, dropping more of his weight onto you when you freed his cock out and wrapped your fingers around him. 

“I’m afraid I won’t last long this time,” he groaned, tugging the fabric of your panties aside. “I’ll make it up to you, baby, I promise. But, fuck, it’s been so long since I felt you-”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded fervently, not really listening to him. 

All your focus was on that throbbing need that spiked even higher as you guided the tip of Bucky’s cock inside you. 

It was everything - the stretch of his girth spearing through your neglected pussy, his scent and warmth, his mouth sucking on your neck, his moan at the feel of your tight walls gripping him - that had your body seizing in the most rushed climax. Already, while he was barely halfway in. 

You dug your fingernails into Bucky’s hips as your legs shook; your upper half curling up, face buried in the crook of Bucky’s neck to muffle your cries of pleasure. Your walls clenched so hard it was almost painful, then fluttered in a crescendo of aftershocks. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you babbled, falling onto your back and squirming as the orgasm continued to tingle in every part of your body.

“Sorry?” Bucky choked on breath. “My girl cumming for me so fast is an ego boost beyond any other,” he chuckled. 

He always had the ability to make you fall apart rather quickly, but that was a new record. Provided by suppressed sexual tension and emotional connection you were deprived of for so long. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Bucky cooed as he continued to slide into your fluttering cunt, “I’ll give you more.” 

He shifted his hand, so that his thumb brushed over your swollen clit. He moved with no rush, but each of his thrusts was deep, nearly painfully so. As if Bucky sought more of that connection; needed it as fiercely as you. 

As promised, he made you cum again. Then shuddered within your embrace as he followed you over the edge. And though your heart was thundering in your chest from the exertion, it was the first time you felt complete and at peace since a very long time. 

You welcomed Bucky’s full weight as you laid spent, your hands drawing soothing patterns on his back. His cock was still nestled inside of you; neither of you wanted to lose that intimate connection too soon. You rested, listening to each other’s breathing and soaking in the comfort of being together. 

When Bucky fucked you again a while later, it was more languid and sensual. He made breathless vows of love, curling his metal fingers around your throat and squeezing just enough to spill more of your warm tears. He confessed his need for you in his life as he increased his pace, tilting your ass with his other hand, so he could spill deeper inside of you. 

In the morning, as he woke up early with the intention of going to the bakery and getting fresh treats for your family breakfast, there was so much brightness in Bucky’s eyes. So much love and happiness, like on the day your son was born.

As you looked at your own reflection in the mirror in his bathroom, you saw the same spark in your own eyes. 

[manias-wordcount]

Sound the Alarm (Soshiro Hoshina)

Kinktober 2024 Day Two: Interrupted

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

The second the alarm starts to blare, he freezes.

A loud, shrill sound that could be heard all over the compound. In all the rooms, corridors, offices and bedrooms. And it’s a sound that the two of you know all too well. A call to arms. A call to return to your stations and prepare your gear. A call to battle. A call that should never be ignored. But… that’s exactly what he’s doing right now. 

Ignoring it.

“Fuck…” You hear Soshiro mutter just above you. It’s hard to hear him over the alarm, but the frustration seeping into his voice only seems to add volume to his words as he clenches his jaw and frowns deeply. You’re eyeing him carefully, chest heaving up and down as you wait for him to make his next move. Whatever it was going to be. But that’s the thing. He doesn’t make his next move. He just doesn’t.

“Vice Cap-Captain Hoshina…”

Instead, he stays inside of you. Cock half-buried inside you pussy and ready to slam into you once more. Because he seems too busy thinking about fucking you to care about the Kaiju attack he’s about to be called to deal with.

“Shit…” He curses again. His arm muscles ripple and tense above you as he holds you still. His grip is tight, but not unbearably so. Still, you can see very clearly how frustrated he is. Usually, he doesn’t hold back. Usually, there’s no regard for anyone or anything. Not even things like your voice growing too loud or him taking up far too much of your time than he really should matter all that much to him. But this is the one time he really can’t make any excuses. This is the one time where he truly has to pick someone else over having his fill of you. At least, that’s how you thought he’d see things. “...I’ll be quick. I promise.”

You whimper at that. He said that to you the last time. He says that to you all the time. It just hasn’t truly mattered until this moment. Right now, you're the only nurse working the Nurse’s Station during most of the night shifts. Something Soshiro managed to make happen by pulling rank and plenty of strings. But you were okay with it. Because almost every time you found yourself working at night and alone, you could always count on him to be there for a visit. Sometimes, it was just to keep you company for an hour or two. Be someone you could talk to during the boring hours. Be a source of entertainment when there was no one around and nothing to watch. Just someone to help make time go by faster.

And sometimes, it was just to strip you down and fold you in half on one of the cots and fuck you so hard that you swear you couldn't breathe. Just like he was doing earlier. But now, he’s slowly starting back up again. Slowly pushing his cock back into your pussy and pulling back out with what starts out as a lazy pace. 

It’s more than enough to feel pleasurable. In fact, you can’t even recall a time when Soshiro’s dick has made you feel anything other good before. From this position, you can see the twitch of his thick, full cock when he drags out and then pushes back inside of your inner walls and continues to stretch you out so that he fits inside of you perfectly. You can hear his low grunts and moans as his dark-colored eyes stare down at you almost carnally- like you’re his and his alone for the taking, even though he hasn’t bothered to ask you properly yet. And you feel the ache in your lower body as he forces your knees to your ears and squeezes the meat of your thighs like you’ll disappear the second he stops fucking you.

But at the same time, he’s going slowly and steadily enough that you’re still able to form coherent sentences and think complex thoughts- including thoughts about the relatively obnoxious but incredibly important alarms that keep shouting into the room through the intercom system. He’s going slow and steadily enough that you’re still able to remind him that his duty is to his country, and not the pretty little nurse he took a liking to a couple months ago.

“The other nurses- ah! The other nurses, Soshiro!” You start to explain to him. But all too quickly, he catches on that you’re about to protest his being here. Because he’s extremely quick to speed up his strokes and angle them in a way that he knows will have you babbling and drooling and feeling a little too good in no time at all. But as much as you want him right now- as much as you want him to make you cream over his cock and give one of those orgasms he promised you after you spent the morning teasing him in front of his subordinates- you can’t get caught by the other nurses fucking the Vice Captain while you’re supposed to be on duty. And you certainly can’t get caught being the reason why he’s not rushing to put on his battle suit and running out to rally the troops and save lives. You just can’t. “They’ll be here, Soshiro! They’ll- they’ll get here soon!”

His jaw clenches once more as he weighs the outcomes, but his pace never slows down. Not even for a second. In fact, your reminder seems to have only invigorated him even further judging by the smirk now growing on his face.

“I’ll be quick.” He promises to you again as he slams his dick down inside of you with a pace that’s as sloppy as it is rough. “Fuck, you just feel so good.”

You squealed as you felt him hit a spot inside of you that really does feel too good for you to handle. And he gives a few pleased words of praise as he tells you just how badly he’s been wanting to do this ‘ever since you gave him that hard-on this morning’ and how he ‘couldn’t stand the thought of leaving your precious cunt without his cum painting your walls white.’ But luckily, you haven’t lost yourself completely in the whirlwind of pleasure that he’s giving you. Because you haven’t forgotten what that alarm means. You haven’t forgotten that there are lives at stake whenever that alarm starts to blare.

“And you have to go!” You cry out to him in between half-moans and whines. He lets out a low sound from the back of his throat. Something akin to an animalistic growl that might have scared you if you didn’t know that the man you were currently with was all bark and no bite when it came to you. But that didn’t stop the shivers going down your spine at the fiercely attractive and desperate behavior. Though even so, you had to press on. “What if they need you?” 

They always need you.

The words were left unsaid, but they still lingered in the room like a poltergeist one just couldn't ignore. And even if he tried to ignore it, other things were vying for his attention. Because in an almost fate-like moment, a voice interrupts the two of you from over the radio. You can barely hear it from your position and the alarm still going off, but Soshiro’s radio is tucked right up by his ear so he’s able to make out the words of whoever was shouting over the line almost perfectly. So much so that for a moment, his hips started to slow down and falter. Until finally, they stopped altogether. 

And you’ll never know what was said to him over the radio that day. Because the somber look that crept onto his face as he slowly pulled his dick out of you and eased you into a more comfortable position on the cot you were both on was the only indication that things were far more serious than he anticipated. 

Still, he was kind enough to help you dress yourself as he muttered orders into the receiving end of the radio. And he was sweet enough to leave you with a long, hard lingering kiss on the lips as a promise to pick things back up where they left off. Exactly where he left off. 

But still, life’s cruel. And in your opinion, he’s cruel too. 

Because in the end, he did make you wait many long, hard, brutal hours for any sign of him coming out of this battle alive. Because he did make you worry and check on just about every body that was recovered and brought into your station during and after the mission with the hopes that you wouldn’t see the same man who was just making you feel like the luckiest girl in the world end up as the coldest corpse in the room. But most of all? It’s because he made you fall in love with him.

Despite his dangerous line of work making sure that his future is never promised to him. Despite only ever being the nightshift girl he sneaks around with. Despite the fact that there are so many bad reasons to get involved with a man like him. Despite absolutely everything telling you no...

...you still decide to ignore the alarms.

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Eight ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Eight Warnings: profanity, smut (nsfw content) oral (f recieving) How to find the other chapters in my pinned post.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Eight]

“Lucifer,” you hissed, swooping down towards a balcony jutting out into the red sky. Lucifer grinned at you awkwardly, and your eyes flicked to his rolled up sleeves as your wings retracted into your back. 

“[name],” he said, and his voice seemed to be bursting with an eagerness for something you couldn’t place. His eyes scanned the sky, before reaching out to grab your arm and pull you in. You stumbled into his chest, feeling his arm circle around you in an embrace. You pulled back and stared into his golden eyes. “Every time you leave the year feels even longer.”

Your eyes fell onto his bow, and you fiddled with it for a moment before glancing back up at him. You leaned in.

The second your lips met his hand was on your waist, gripping it tightly and pulling you in, kissing you hungrily as if he was dying in the desert and you were an oasis. You felt his teeth nip at your bottom lip and you pulled away, heart pounding. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, flush and out of breath. You watched him struggle to keep the smile off of his face. “Just missed you.”

You tilted your head to the side, eyes flicking down to his lips. He seemed to sense what you were about to do seconds before your hand went for his collar, pulling him in for another, hungrier kiss. 

You pulled away. “Missed you too.”

♱♱♱

You pulled a ring out of your satchel, dropping it into his hand. You watched his fingers closing around it. 

You did this, every year- you’d bring something of your own to give to him, a keepsake. 

Sitting back on the bed, you kicked your feet, watching him hide the ring away in a drawer. A drawer who’s top surface had been dominated by a cursed amount of ducks. They were multiplying. Of course, they were. 

“You really are building an army, huh?” 

Lucifer glanced at you, a smile spreading across his face. You slouched,  wondering if you should tell him about Adam’s plan to get the wait between exterminations, reduced, but in the end pressed your lips shut. If it wasn’t going to happen there wasn’t any point in mentioning it anyways, or not with much urgency at least.

“How’s your year been?” You glanced up at Lucifer. With a flick of your hand, you beckoned him over, something which he complied to eagerly. You flushed at the look that he gave you.

“It’s been fine,” you murmured. “Other than Adam won’t take the hint, and an exorcist screamed at me the next morning after falling asleep drunk on my couch-“ you raised your eyebrow at the fact that he had decided to sit down on the floor looking up at you- “it’s been quite uneventful. Oh. And I started growing these new flowers.”

Upon hearing Adam’s name, you could feel him tense up against your leg. “So he still hasn’t backed off, huh?”

“No. Why, you worried I’m gonna say yes to him?” You smirked, and he looked up at you, grinning nervously. You flicked his forehead playfully. 

“Well, I uh- never mind, then,” he rambled nervously, hand on the back of his neck. You smiled softly, and he managed a smile back, although a bit crooked. Then something in his expression changed. 

“Well, I won’t,” You reassured him, eyes trained outside the window, not noticing him clench and unclench his fists, or lick his lips. 

“I should hope not,” he said, sounding slightly breathless. You leaned back, deciding to pretend as if you didn’t notice a change in his tone. But you did. 

His eyes flicked up and down your body, once, then slower next time. You felt his hand slide onto your thigh. “What are you doing?” You murmured, and it took all you had to keep your voice level and not rise to a squeak.

“[name],” he said, and his voice shook lightly. 

“Yes?”

You didn’t need to hear him say what he was thinking next. You already knew it. 

His hand slid in between your legs, fingers ghosting across your inner thigh. You shivered, watching his adam’s apple move as he gulped. 

“Can I…?” His voice was low.

Your muscles tensed, all your breath escaping you as he pressed his lips against the side of your thigh, eyes looking up at you, pleading. 

“Please-“

“Yes.” 

You felt him tense against you, before a smirk spread across his face, and fuck it’s hot, and now your skirt was riding up your legs and your heart was pounding a million beats a minute. 

His lips trailed their way up your thigh again, warm against your skin, leaving a trail of small bruises and bites slowly darkening against your skin. You whimpered, weaving your fingers through his hair, which made him flinch, his hand on the other side of your thigh tightening, nails digging into skin. 

He hooked a finger around the waistband of your underwear, dragging it down painfully slow. You gulped, shaking as he positioned himself in between your legs. 

“I haven’t done this in a while,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “So,” he let out a short breath. “Might be a bit rusty.”

You hummed understandingly, running your fingers through his hair gently, until you felt his hot, wet tongue on your entrance. You flinched at the sudden contact, jerking your hips but his hands slid up and pinned you down. 

“Hush,” he muttered, mouth pressed against your core, the vibration from his low voice sending waves into your body. You clamped your hand over your mouth as his tongue drew circles across your clit, and you felt your muscles involuntary clench and your legs draw together.

Lucifer grunted, pressing his palms on the inner side of your legs and pushing you legs apart again, hands gripping your thighs in place as he flicked his tongue, causing you to spasm again and whimper. You were dripping- you could feel it, your own arousal mixing with his saliva, coating your skin. 

He looked up, hair mussed, and his nails momentarily dug into your skin. “Take your hand off of your mouth,” he hissed, and you did so, gulping. “I want to hear you.”

And with that he delved in again, one hand abandoning your thigh and pushing apart your folds, thrusting his tongue in, and you bucked your hips again feeling the pleasure shoot through you. A light moan escaped your lips as he inserted a finger.

“My name,” he muttered, as you clawed at his hair for something to ground you. The vibrations trembled against you again, making you whimper.

“Lucifer,” you gasped, as his finger curled inside you. He began to pump it in and out, painfully slow, taking his time as he continued giving you the same attention with his tongue. 

“Again.”

“Lucifer,” you moaned, although it sounded like a plea as you threw your head back as his palm dug against your hip to make you stop squirming. Another finger in, coiling inside you with a deft flick as you let out another moan from the shooting pleasure, gasping for air. You bucked your hips towards him again, silently begging for more stimulus, and he chuckled at your desperation. “Fuck.”

His tongue swirled over your clit again, quick as lighting, and if you weren’t in such a state you would have felt the initials he had traced: LM.

Tremors racked your body, until you felt a white-hot pleasure sear through you, as if every tense muscle in your body had unraveled at once. Lucifer immediately pushed himself up and onto you as you came, pinning you onto the bed and crashing his lips against yours. You could taste yourself on him, and he knew it- his other finger still touched you, seeing you through the orgasm. 

You felt him whisper sweet nothings, his breath on your lips as he pulled away for air before diving in again. And then it was over. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling Lucifer slump next to you and throw his arm across you. You turned, and noticed he wasn’t tired. He was grinning at you, waiting for you to say something. “Good?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words formed, so simply nodded. For a moment he looked worried, until you pushed yourself up, towards him, your words whispered for only him to ear.

“Again. Please.” 

♱♱♱

Another orgasm tore through your body, and you could barely even hear the moaned words that fell from your lips as you fell back on the bed, or hear Lucifer’s amused chuckle as he got up and pressed kisses down your collarbone and jaw, on top of the already-made collection of bite marks and bruises staining your skin. 

You shuddered as he lay back down next to you again, burying his face in your shoulder. You could feel his smirk against your skin. “Already tired?”

You inwardly rolled your eyes. You’d lost count of how many times he’d made you come- everything blurred together after a while. His arm circled across your waist, and then he pushed himself up so he could hover over you. 

“What?” You muttered, face burning. 

“It’s nice to see you like this.”

“Like what?”

“You know.” He leaned forward, whispering, his breath ghosting across the shell of your ear. “You’re always so put together. It’s nice to see you come undone so easily, because of me.” He pressed a light kiss to the shell of your ear, making you shiver. 

You pressed your hand against his chest. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He winked and kissed you again, quickly. “You can pay me back next time.”

You pulled him in for another quick kiss.

“I will,” you promised.

♱♱♱

A/N: Hi guys! Just noticed that the hyperlinks to the Masterlist and the links on the Masterlist to the teasers and chapters don’t work anymore. And I’m too tired to renew them, so, if you can’t find the rest of my chapters or can’t be bothered to comb through my blog, go to the first tag on this post, and it should have all the chapters and teasers since I’ve placed the exact same unique tag on them.

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog, @bakugounuggets, @ren-ren23, @mjhehe09,@angelicwillows, @rayyrayysanchez, @luleck, @dellugh-shposts, @rebecca-hvnstn, @l0v3lyx, @ravenswritingroom, @rattyrattyratty, @lovayle, @relatedsoda, @cimadreamer, @valckenaux

[kaedeharakaori]

𝑹𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 || 𝘍. 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴

On the first day of October, 1984, forty-three women around the world simultaneously gave birth. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and playboy adventurer, made it his personal mission to find and adopt as many of these children as possible.

He got eight of them, and one of them was a siren.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟﾟ ⋆

UPDATED EVERY TUESDAY, THURSDAY, and SATURDAY.

Additional announcements will be posted on @kaedeharakaori to avoid spamming.

CROSS-POSTED ON WATTPAD

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟﾟ ⋆

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Note: Click the chapter titles to access.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐓𝐖𝐎

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝐒𝐈𝐗

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

[blades-edge]

i want this man to do vile things to me. it’s not funny anymore.

i need him. all day. every day.

[rhonnie23]

Mood Change: Hyunjin

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH ANY OF MY WORK! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED❗️🔞

Pair: Boyfr!Hyunjin x Reader

Summary: Reader gets mad out of nowhere but Hyunjin is very patient & sweet about it when he figures out what wrong.

WARNINGS: Pointless argument, mentioning of menstrual period, read say she like once, Hyunjin is very sweet & patient boyfr, hurt/ comfort, fluff. Let me know if I missed anything!

SS:4

This the second version of Mother Nature’s Curse. This version is kind of based on true events of the past week for me. So getting this request was like omg😵‍💫 idk which one to do so I did both! Thank you to @kozumesphone for requesting this hope you love this version too🤍 request for skz fake texts only is still open for individual members only. Please reblog & let me know what you think. Happy Halloween 🎃 everyone

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚⋅ ⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚⋅ ⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚⋅

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚⋅ ⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚⋅ ⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚⋅ ⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚⋅

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚⋅ ⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚⋅ ⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚⋅

Taglis Open~

@megtheekpopslut @svtrighthereworld @ipurplebtsminyoongi @whoreforchanin @namjoonandchanswife

©rhonnie23ownallcopyrights

[paw-padss]

childe headcannons bc he NEEDS a solo post :p

super corny, like straight out a romcom corny. not to mention flirtatious like some sort of teen movie love interest

surfer boy vibes, like the hot lifegaurd you see at the beach. sandy but not literally and dare I say tan... am I allowed to say childe has a tan

i know I said childe was bad at baking during the valentines post but lets be realistic all his sibling experience definitely made him a good baker, or just good at all household activities in general. cooking, cleaning, like he can definitely do it all

he loves animals, mostly because they remind them of his siblings when he's away from home. I can just imagine him begging you to keep a pet in the house when y'all move in together.

and he loves ALL animals like not even just like cats and rabbits and the cute ones like he even thinks snakes and moths and other "unattractive" animals are cute. and the animals would definitely love him back

back to him being good at house work he's so acts of service like Imagine him making you a healthy lunch, cleaning the house when your tired, cooking you meals he just does it all

the one thing childe cannot do however is be smooth like I know I already said he's corny but I MUST emphasize it like its crazy how cliche and cringy he is, but you don't even hate it like its funny y'all laugh together because like what is childe if not very silly

is it crazy to say that I think Childe's lack of a childhood would definitely make him really affectionate in a relationship. like imagine PHYSICAL. TOUCH. CHILDE. constantly running around trying to find you so he can slide his arms around you, hold your hand, give you kisses, etc!!!

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏: Cockwarming w/ Sam Winchester

a/n: okay so yeah, what if i projected completely onto this fic? i am only a woman, and ovulation week is utter hell, so forgive me if i have to take it out on fictional characters 🙄

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

When you’re ovulating, Sam is ashamed to say that he can’t keep up with your needs sometimes.

There was a time when he was a spry young buck that could go round after exhausting round, but as he ages and the harder he works, more than two rounds are few and far in-between.

He knows when it’s time, because you get that ravenous look in your eye whenever he rambles about a case, or when you admire his hands when they trail down whatever ancient text he’s managed to get his hands on.

Now listen, he’s stared death in the face more than once in his life, but sometimes you’re so horny, he fears that you may actually eat him.

Like right now, you’re perched in his lap all but eating lips with the way you envelope them in yours, your tongue aggressively searching his mouth. Sam can feel the mixture of your shared spit bubbling at the corner of each other’s mouths. 

You’re pinned between the table and him, and you’ve tugged him so far into your body that he’s convinced you’re trying to mold the two of you together. It doesn’t help that you’re desperately grinding down into his lap in search of some friction.

He forces his lips away from yours and a pout instantly finds its way on your face, but you let him go, tucking a strand of rogue brown hair back behind his ear.

“Honey,” Sam begins, and his voice is hoarse. “What’s gotten into you?” His question ends in a chuckle, because he knows exactly what’s wrong with you. “I ate you out this morning. You can’t possibly tell me you need more.” 

“Sam.” You huff out. “I’m sorry. It’s just… you know – you just… looked so sexy here all concentrated and stuff and I just…” You grind down on him for emphasis. “‘Just need to have you, need your cock. Please, Sam.” You’re whimpering in his neck by now; a pleading, rutting mess of need.

There’s no choice in fighting it because he’s growing hard in his jeans that now all of a sudden feel way too fucking tight.

“Okay, okay. I got you sweetheart.” He murmurs, and the hot fan of his breath caresses the shell of your ear. You let out a sigh that couldn’t be mistaken as one anything other than relief. 

You’re kissing again.

Both of your hands are buried in the soft locks of his hair, pulling him possibly closer to you to the point where you’re arching into the table, the polished wood of it digging into your lower back. 

The pain doesn’t deter you, even as one of his fingers traces the waistband of your shorts. “I’m not wearing panties.” You breathe against his lips. “Don’t need any prep either, just need you.”

“Want to cockwarm me, baby? Want to sit here all day full of me?” Sam all but growls and you shiver. “Please.” It’s a whispered plea. “Get up and turn around.”

You scramble to follow, and the material of your shorts are baggy enough that you can pull the crotch part of it to the side. You hear Sam fumble with the belt and zipper of his pants before he finally frees himself from the confines of them.

“Sit down.”

One of your hand braces itself on the flat surface in front of you, the other pulling the material of your shorts to the side. Sam holds you steady on your hip, holding his cock up so you can sink down easily.

You gasp when the tip of dick breaches your entrance, the telltale burn of him being enough to muddle your already arousal strained mind. It doesn't hurt, just a mild discomfort until you bottom out completely.

His thighs are warm and sturdy under you, both of his palms squeeze your waist as you adjust to him, his forehead pressing against the back of your damp neck. You’re breathing heavily until you finally relax, and when you do, you swear you would have melted.

“Good?” Sam asked heavily.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @khxna @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

“Mhm.” Your agreement was a borderline moan, “So good.”

[ode2cheol]

MON ANGE !

“what does that even mean?” you giggled at jeonghan from his side.

ever since he had come back from paris he wouldn’t stop saying it, wouldn’t stop saying ‘mon ange’ to you.

you could only assume it meant something good, a term of endearment judging by his tone, but then again your boyfriend could just be fooling you, which honestly wouldn’t come as much of a surprise.

“if you wanna know so bad then you should learn french like me” he told you with a smug look.

“you know how to say a grand total of two words. i’d bet i already know more words than you do”

“well then in that case you should be able to work out what it means shouldn’t you, mon ange?” he grinned with closed eyes.

you rolled your eyes at him before picking up your phone and opening the translate site.

“what are you doing?” jeonghan looked at you confused, “what do you need this for?”

“well since you aren’t telling me i may as well just search it”

to your surprise, he didn’t make an effort to stop you, instead wanting you to find the meaning despite being adamant on not letting you know a minute ago.

after typing the word and the site detected and translated the language, you looked at jeonghan slowly, a lovesick grin glued on your face.

“you’re so cute” you told him with a ghost of a pout on your lips that jeonghan kissed while giggling at your reaction.

“so are you, my angel”