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redwing4life · 5 months ago

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Home Cooked Meal

CHAPTER 4 | ASHES TO EMBERS

can be read as a stand alone :)

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbour!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut (finally) - dirty talk, pet names, oral f and m receiving, fingering, tit play, praise kink, hand kink?, ball play, hair pulling, unprotected PinV sex, aftercare, reader and bucky have dinner, swearing, fluff, let me know if i missed anything!

SUMMARY: You surprise Bucky with a home cooked meal after his shift, and it’s the best damn thing he’s had in years. The pasta was pretty good too.

WORD COUNT: 10550 (ngl i rechecked this three times cuz i didn’t think i wrote this much but turns out i did in fact write over 10k words im sorry lmao)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER // NEXT CHAPTER

Call me when you get home x

Your text still sits on Bucky’s lock screen, read but not opened, as he gets changed out of his work clothes.

It’s fair to say that the message intrigued him when he first read it half an hour ago, just before he left the firehouse. His legs sped up your building stairwell faster than normal, desperate to find out why you’re awaiting his call.

Knowing you would have said so if you were in immediate danger, Bucky sifts through the multitude of possibilities that await him on the other side of the ring tone; none of which ease the butterflies in his stomach.

He walks to his kitchen, phone in hand, to get a glass of orange juice. Pulling up your contact page, he presses ‘call’ and grabs the carton of juice from the fridge door.

You answer after just one ring, eager to hear his voice.

“Hey, Barnes!” God, Bucky loves your voice.

“Doll.” His voice is soft, tone rising at the end with curiosity. “You asked me to call, what’s up?”

The firefighter swoons at the adorable giggle you let out, the sound distant from the mic as though you’ve tried to hide it. “I was worried you didn’t see my text.” You admit.

Bucky pictures you biting your lip anxiously, an accurate prediction for your current state.

“What are you doing right now?”

Glancing down at the yet-to-be-filled glass in front of him, Bucky leans a hand against the kitchen island. “Just about to get a drink, what are-“

“Don’t!” You cut in. “Don’t get a drink, I need you to come over.”

“What, now? What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, James. Just come knock, okay? I’ll see you in a minute!”

And with that, the call cuts off with a dull beep; Bucky brings the phone down from his ear and stares at it in confusion. You’re being weird, never having hung up on him like that before.

Alpine meows from above the fridge, drawing her owner’s attention away from the phone, only to tilt her head at him.

Even Alps is confused.

Deciding to just do what you told, Bucky slips his phone into the pocket of his dark jeans, returns the orange juice to the fridge and sets off for the front door. He finds himself checking over his appearance in the entry way mirror, eyes scanning over his outfit before he smooths out his hair.

Although he won’t admit it, Bucky’s spent a lot more time in front of that mirror lately; checking his collar isn’t twisted, his hair isn’t too messy and there’s nothing stuck in his teeth. The need to look good, to look good for you, hasn’t gone unnoticed by his colleagues.

He considers using the spare key you gave him and letting himself into your apartment but shakes the thought away.

She asked you to knock, Bucky. Not break in.

With one final nod in the mirror, Bucky leaves his apartment, stepping into the hallway he’s spent so many mornings and nights in with you.

Old jazz music greets his ears when he approaches your door, the soft melody sneaking through the cracks of the door frame. Bucky smiles to himself at the thought of you dancing in your kitchen, heart warming when he notices your humming.

Knocking thrice, the firefighter steps back and nervously stuffs his hands into his pockets. You always make him nervous, those darn butterflies stirring in his stomach whenever he’s about to see you. And when he does see you. Actually, they’re there even when he imagines seeing you.

He takes a breath when he hears you shuffling up to the door, but nothing could prepare him for the sight when it swings open.

Rusty red fabric flows from your neckline to the middle of your thighs, small flowers dotted over the slightly orange colour. Two thin straps perched on your shoulders leave plenty of skin on show as your usual sun-pendant necklace sits between the v-neck of your dress. Which, by the way, perfectly presents the soft swell of your breasts.

It takes everything Bucky has to not drool at his breathtaking neighbour, but it takes even more to not dive on you and finally taste those pink lips.

Your skin is ablaze beneath his eyes and you revel in his reaction, the exact response you wanted when you pulled on the dress two hours ago.

“We’re matching.” You grin, taking a moment to enjoy Bucky’s red henley.

“It’s almost like we planned it.” A chuckle escapes him, eyes trailing up from your thighs to meet yours.

“Speaking of plans,” You reach out to pull Bucky closer, tugging his forearms until he pulls his hands out of his pockets, “I have a surprise for you.”

Is it letting me look at you in that dress all evening? Your neighbour thinks - hopes - as you lead him into your apartment.

Closing the door behind him, you take his hand in yours once more to guide him to your little kitchen/diner area. If you weren’t looking ahead, you’d see Bucky’s cheeks flushed pink at your touch. Seeing your hand encompassed with his own will never fail to drive him crazy.

When he eventually looks up from your joined hands, he’s stunned to a halt. You turn back to him when you feel him plant his feet and your features twist into a nervous expression.

“I- Doll, what is all this?” The firefighters eyes are wide at your ‘surprise’.

Your small dining table is set up for two; cream place mats lay beneath charcoal gray pasta dishes with wine glasses sitting at their corners. There’s even a little vase with pink and yellow tulips in between the two spaces.

“Well, remember that time when you told me you haven’t had a proper home cooked meal in years?” You watch Bucky closely as you speak, waiting for some sign of approval.

“You mean this morning?” He turns to you in wonder, thinking back to your conversation as he gave you a lift to the cafe. “I don’t know what to say, doll.”

You roll back on your heels, hands scrunching your dress at your sides. “Is it okay? I know it’s a little cheesy and it’s last minute but I thought it would be a nice surprise for you after working all day. I mean, it’s not exactly at your home but it’s pretty cl-“

Bucky takes two long strides towards you and brings his hands to cup your cheeks; your words die on your tongue when he looks down at you with tender eyes.

“It’s perfect, Y/n.” He smiles, stroking his thumb over your cheek bone. “You could feed me Alpine’s food and i’d still bow at your feet, sweets.”

Now you’re the one blushing. You heart skips when Bucky’s eyes drop to your lips with hunger in his gaze.

“Always so good to me, aren’t ya?” His words tempt a whimper from deep within you, a submissive whine held back by the last of your restraint.

“Well-“

The oven beeps, its sharp tone darting between your bodies and making you step back from Bucky’s hold.

“Uhh” Your mind is all over the place as the firefighter watches you with amusement, “I- I should, I mean- the pasta must be-“

“Go, doll.” Bucky shakes his head laughing quietly.

Your dress sways as you spin away to the stove, stirring various pots and tidying up the counters. Your neighbour watches you in awe, unashamedly enjoying the view; you just look so goddamn sexy in that cute little dress while you cook for him. He wishes he could come home to this every night.

“You need a hand with anything, doll?” Bucky’s voice sounds from behind you.

“Actually, yeah!” You glance over your shoulder. “Come here.”

If you keep bossing him about, Bucky’s gonna struggle not to tear that sweet little sundress right off you.

Settling in at your side, Bucky cocks his head. “What d’ya need?”

You scoop some of the creamy tomato sauce onto a spoon and bring it to Bucky’s lips. “Try this for me.”

With bated breath, you watch his full lips wrap around the end of the spoon, his eyes bearing into yours as he drags the sauce into his mouth.

Bucky has no business looking as dirty as he does in this moment; you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows before his tongue juts out to catch a few missed drops. And just when you thought your panties would survive the sight, a moan ripples from his throat and you clench around nothing at the sound.

“Good?” You murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice when you cross your legs.

He notices.

“Delicious,” Bucky takes the spoon from your hand and stretches across you to place it back in the pan, his right hand brushing against the small of your back, “you did great, sweets.”

Fuck. Me.

You regather your composure and ask Bucky to get the wine from the fridge. He pours you both a glass, setting them back on the dining table gently before returning the bottle to its home.

“Hey, could you bring the bowls over, please?” You call over your shoulder.

You plate up the sauce coated pasta while Bucky places the dirty pans in the sink, both working around each other like a fine tuned machine.

Before you can do it yourself, Bucky is picking up the bowls and laying them on the place mats, winking at you as he does so. He pulls your chair out for you, nodding for you to join him.

“For you, Madame.” He jokes, allowing you to sit down while tucking you in.

You watch him round the table and take his own seat. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

Bucky grins at you. The orange glow of sunset shines through your windows, catching your features with grace. Your eyes shine beneath the light and Bucky can’t help but find you angelic.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I don’t know if I said that earlier but, god, you look stunning tonight.”

Dropping your head, you play with the hem of your dress shyly. Your hair falls into your face, forcing you to push it behind your ears, though Bucky wishes he was close enough to do it himself.

With rose tinted cheeks, you look up at Bucky through your lashes. “You say that to all your neighbours, Barnes?” You raise a brow with your teasing voice.

Bucky throws his head back and laughs heartily, a sound you’ve come to adore.

“Only the ones who cook for me.” He winks.

“Doesn’t Ms Scott bring you pies every couple weeks?”

“And I tell her she looks ravishing every time.”

You giggle and tell Bucky to dig in, though you could happily sit and talk all night. While you both stop every now and then for a forkful of food, conversation bounces between you as it always does.

Tonight isn’t much different to a typical evening with the firefighter next door; usually you share some snacks and beers, cozying up on the couch as you watch tv. It’s become ritual for you to send Bucky a video of you playing the piano each evening, his phone playing the video on loop as he sleeps. It’s strange, but the music creeps into his dreams and keeps them peaceful, keeps him away from that burning building.

It’s been a few weeks since the night he was sent home early. Both you and Bucky felt a shift that night; waking up in his arms left you craving more, though you’ve yet to tell him as much. You left him sleeping peacefully that morning when you left for work with only a couple hours of sleep under your belt.

Bucky hated waking up to find the other side of his bed empty, no longer feeling your heat. The note you left him eased the disappointment slightly, your neat handwriting promising to come back in your breaks. Neither of you have addressed how right it felt to sleep beside each other that night, despite spending all of your free time together with unspoken words hanging over you.

Instead, you dance around each other like two ghosts doomed to never touch. The bond between you is stronger than any you’ve ever had, the magnetic lure undeniable for you both.

Your glasses have been emptied and refilled twice now - dinner long since been finished - and you’re starting to feel the buzz; those butterflies in your stomach have turned into a swarm of confidence, your brain taking a backseat from its usual overthinking.

“You expect me to believe that you broke down the door before Sam could? The same guy who beat you at your physical a few weeks back?” You tease the brunette, a challenging brow raised at his rather unimpressed face.

“What are you trying to say there, doll?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches when you tilt your head slightly, eyes shining with amusement beneath the exposed hanging light bulbs.

“Nothing to worry your cute little head about.” You watch Bucky relax into his chair slightly as you reach for your glass with a smirk. “Just that I doubt Sam has any difficulty kicking a door down, not with the way he’s built.”

The scoff to end all scoffs ripples from your neighbours throat; his bright blue orbs glare into you and his features twist into a scowl. Oh if looks could kill…

Bucky’s tone is flat, “Didn’t know you were such an admirer of Wilson’s build, Y/n.”

The lack of a pet name sends your confidence wavering, but not enough to keep you from having a little fun.

“Well, you know,” You bring the glass to your lips, “he’s hardly difficult to miss.”

Watching the deep ruby liquid pass over your lips, Bucky fights to hide the fury that’s flooding his veins, forced to look away from your smug grin.

He knows, he knows, that you’re lying through your teeth, trying to get a rise out of his usually impenetrable facade, and yet he can’t help but feel jealous.

Bucky’s painfully aware that he has no right to feel so possessive, not when he lays no claim to you. But the twist of his stomach is proof that he doesn’t much care.

“Maybe I should just give you his number and you can cook him a meal next time.” Bucky grumbles.

“Oh, that’s alright, I already have his number.”

You’ve never seen Bucky’s head snap up as quickly as it just did, his gaze pinning you to your spot.

“You what?”

Gently, you place your glass back on the table. “Yeah, Steve gave him my number last week so he could get in touch.”

The fire in those blue eyes burns brighter with each word, his body so still that his chest is barely moving when he breathes. In fact, you’re not even sure if he is breathing. Hell, he’s not even sure if he’s breathing.

“Is that right?” Bucky’s gruff voice is laced with possessiveness, the low tone travelling straight to your panties till you swear you feel yourself throb. You wonder briefly if you have a jealousy kink and the sweet arousal dripping from your cunt only confirms your suspicions.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, “In fact, i’m going out for coffee with him next week.”

“Huh.”

Bucky’s chair screeches against the hardwood floor as he pushes himself back. You follow his movements with amused eyes when he stands up and grabs your plates before storming to the kitchen. You twist in your chair, watching him place the dishes in the sink and flick on the tap.

“James, what are you doing?” You ask.

“What does it look like i’m doing?” Oh he’s grumpy, grumpy.

Bucky’s shoulders are tense beneath his tight henley, his sleeves now rolled up as he starts scrubbing at the plates. It’s quiet while he concentrates on his work, only accompanied by the music still flowing from your speaker.

From the corner of his eye, the firefighter sees you rise from your chair, ears honed in on the sound of your feet pattering towards him.

It’s now hard for Bucky to focus on anything but your breath on his neck, goosebumps littered across his skin like a rash. You stand right behind him, tracing your fingers up from the small of his back; Bucky’s muscles tense momentarily before melting at your touch, just like always.

“Ask me why i’m seeing Sam next week.” You order, hands still roaming the taut fabric on Bucky’s back. The command makes him pause and clench his eyes shut. Why are you making him talk about this when it’s tearing him apart?

The brunette turns in your hold but you don’t release him, instead settling your hands on his waist.

“Why are you seeing him, doll?” Bucky sounds despondent, brows furrowed in confusion as he looks down at you.

“He asked me to teach his nephews to play the piano, Buck. I’m meeting him and the boys on Wednesday, Sarah too.”

A shocked ‘What’ tumbles from his lips as the information sinks in, his frown slowly falling away as he processes your words.

“Yeah…” You grin, though it’s more like a smirk, content with yourself proving he was jealous.

In a desperate attempt to save his ego, Bucky rolls his eyes playfully. “I knew you weren’t really attracted to that dumbass.”

You scoff and pat his chest lightly. “Sure you did, Barnes. Now scoot, you wash ‘em, i’ll dry ‘em.”

With his hands on his hips, he stays still as you nudge your way to his side, stretching to the window sill where your dish towels lay. Bucky’s never been in this position before, it’s always him who’s teasing you; this is new territory for him and it irks him that you riled him up so easily.

Once he shakes his head clear, the firefighter returns to face the sink and starts washing the dishes again. You wait patiently while he works, humming along to whichever song is playing.

“You like the old stuff, huh doll?” Bucky grins warmly at the slight sway of your hips, your radiance beaming like a lantern.

You giggle sheepishly and bite your lip, unknowingly sending Bucky spiralling. “I thought it was fitting for tonight, really leaning into the whole ‘housewife’ role.”

He raises a brow, “Does that make me your doting husband then, sweets?”

Realising what you said, your cheeks heat up instantly and your eyes widen. You attempt to backtrack but your words stumble over one another as though you’re a little school girl.

Bucky, however, is basking in the familiarity of control; your rosy cheeks never fail to bring a smile to his face, and boy is he beaming right now.

“I meant- It’s- You know what I meant, James.” You shoot daggers at him, though the idea of being married to your neighbour sends your heart into overdrive.

That swoon-worthy laugh greets your ears with haste, Bucky’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his chest reverberates with its force. It’s impossible to bite back the grin that’s fighting its way onto your lips.

Small tendrils of chestnut hair tumble from behind his ears, begging to be pushed back, but the buzz from the wine has dulled and you can’t find the confidence to do it, no matter how much Bucky’s eyes are pleading you to.

“You know, it’s sweet of you to teach the boys how to play.” He looks at you in adoration, the image of you spending time with Sam’s nephews triggering a warmth to spread in his chest.

A breathy laugh escapes you as your gaze falls to the kitchen counter. You blush at the compliment and slowly start drying the dishes again.

“Do you spend much time with them?” You ask with a brief glance his way.

Bucky shrugs, “Yeah, Sarah is always throwing barbecues for the squad. They’re good kids, and I bet they’ll love you!”

“Oh God, I hope so. I’ve never taught before and i’m scared they’ll hate me and i’ll destroy their dreams and-” You ramble away without noticing the frown tugging at your neighbours brows.

“Teach me.”

Huh?

“What?” You freeze.

“You said you’ve never taught before,” Bucky steps closer to you, his cologne swarming around you like a warm hug, “so practise on me. Teach me something.”

You almost laugh at his words, mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that he’s joking. But Bucky doesn’t move, his blue eyes study your own, body so still that you fail to conjure a laugh. He’s not joking.

Hesitation is written across your features, drawing a single shake of Bucky’s head. “Come on, sweets. Please? For me?” He pleads.

“Okay.”

It’s scary how quickly you succumb to Bucky’s wishes; you fear you’d do awful things if only he asked and you’d even do it with a smile. You’re so doomed.

With a triumphant grin, Bucky plucks the dish cloth and plate from your grasp and carefully places them on the sink’s edge, before taking your hand in his and guiding you to your piano.

Nerves prickling beneath your skin, you trail behind him and silently revel in his touch. It’s hard to not stare at his perfect body as you stumble around furniture, the sharp muscles of his shoulders rippling as he tugs you with him. Flicking off the speaker on the way, you fall onto the small piano stool beside Bucky, and with such little room, your left thigh is pressed up against his. The solid curve of his muscles prod into your flesh and yet despite the fluttering it causes in your stomach, you’re far more focused on his hands.

From the bulge of his toned biceps to the trail of prominent veins in his forearms, your eyes drag down Bucky’s arms till you pause at the sight of his large hands. They lay spread across the span of his thighs, his right pinky finger mere atoms away from your exposed skin where your dress has ridden up. You find yourself craving the sparks that alight with his touch, so you adjust your position to make sure your leg brushes against his hand.

It certainly hasn’t gone amiss to the firefighter that you’ve taken a liking to his hands. Sure, he’s caught you staring at them before, but the hunger in your gaze right now is greater than ever.

The corner of Bucky’s lip turns up into a smirk as he reaches for your hands once more, lifting them to rest on the ivory keys of your piano.

“Wanna hear you play me something before you give me a lesson.” He admits, his words more of a demand than a question.

When you fail to respond, still caught up in scanning the crevices of his calloused hands, Bucky nudges your shoulder.

You shake your head with a dazed frown, “Huh?”

A playful chuckle falls from his pink lips, “I said play me something, sweets, before you start teachin’ me.”

You giggle sheepishly, sighing an ‘Oh’ before you gather your thoughts. Bucky returns his hands to his lap - a movement you struggle to ignore - giving you free rein of the instrument.

Running through some songs you could teach him, you settle for one of your favourites, or more accurately, one of Bucky’s favourites. The cool surface of the keys is harsh beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the Bucky-induced-heat flushing through your veins, hands stretching into place as you prepare the opening chords.

Rhythmic tones swarm around the two of you as you begin playing, masterfully dancing across the keys like it’s a second language. Your graceful motions always bring Bucky to a halt as you entrap him in your art.

He recognises the song straight away, lips turning up at the sweet melody. You didn’t even have to ask to know what he wanted to hear, you just knew. Bucky’s head feels light at the sight before him. A knowing grin has settled on your soft lips, your body ever so lightly swaying to the music, clearly getting lost the sounds.

It’s impossible not to feel the adoring stare of your neighbour, no matter how hard you try to ignore it. Warmth is pooling in the depths of your heart where it feels like you’re bleeding out, your love for Bucky forcing out the blood till the only thing circulating through your veins is him. No longer able to cope with the feelings swarming within you, your fingers abruptly stop mid song before you turn to look up at the firefighter.

“Okay, your go.” You state, but when Bucky raises a bemused brow your way, you continue to instruct him. “Come on. You’re gonna do the left hand, I’ll do the right.”

“Yes Ma’am!” Bucky chimes with a mock salute, earning him a glare.

It takes a few tries to move his fingers into the correct positions, both because he’s apparently wholeheartedly incapable of doing what you say but also because you may or may not zone out every time the veins of his hands stick out as he moves. But it’s still entirely his fault though. Entirely. ‘Maybe like 98% his fault. That’s seems fair.’ You think.

“There you go!” You cheer when the firefighter successfully plays the right notes in tandem.

“Would you look at that, not so useless after all.” Bucky winks at you and you blush lightly.

Glancing at him hopefully, you ask him to play the first chord you taught him.

“Oh, umm-“ He stutters, fingers flailing about and pressing random keys in search of the right pattern.

“Here, let me…” You chuckle sweetly at how utterly lost he looks and move to help him.

Leaning forward, you drag Bucky’s fingers over the ridges of ivorite, slowly placing them on the correct keys. You feel his lust-filled eyes trained on your face while you work, though it’s getting harder and harder to focus under his stare.

A frown tugs at your brows when your mind goes blank as to where Bucky needs to put his left hand, his still-wandering gaze burning into you and spreading to your cunt faster than you care to admit.

Of course, Bucky notices your breath quickening, chest stumbling up and down with shaky pants. His proximity is intoxicating and the will to fight it is slowly slipping past you, fingers itching to trace up Bucky’s thick arms to his neck so you can finally pull his lips to yours.

Bucky reads every inch of your skin like he’s studying for an exam. From the clench of your jaw to your eyes fluttering shut, he knows that he’s winning this tussle for control.

“Bucky…” You breathe, the wavering sigh rolling from your tongue like a stray secret.

“Yes, doll?” Bucky smirks with glinting eyes and you bite back a whimper.

Opening your eyes, you keep them trained on where yours rest on his. “I can’t focus with you looking at me like that.”

Bucky knows exactly what you mean but he can’t help but toy with you. “Like what?” He cocks his head with faux innocence that fools no one.

You turn to look up at the firefighter, eyes meeting his half lidded ones, the blue of his eyes barely visible behind his lust-blown pupils but the blue you can see is so impossible dark that you wonder if they were ever light in the first place.

Taking a breath, you wet your lips so briefly that Bucky nearly misses it. Nearly. “Like you want to kiss me.” You say, barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” Bucky sighs, leaning in closer, “I want to do much more than that.”

Your body is alight with need. Craving his touch, a breach of the barrier between you, you practically whine your reply. “Then why are you just staring?”

“Well, I wanna remember you like this; sweet, angelic, so perfect in your little sundress.“

With the back of his hand, Bucky nudges the hem of your dress higher till his whole hand is spread against your thigh. You quash the aching desire to glance at where your bodies meet and lock your eyes on Bucky’s, whose lips are turned into a knowing smirk.

“Gotta savour it while I can.” He says as he pushes his palm further to your inner thigh, his pinky finger mere inches from your heat.

“Why?” You ask, heart racing.

It dawns on you that you may actually pass out when the firefighter leans in close to you, nose pushing your hair aside to expose the soft skin of your neck which now sits defenceless to his advances. The heat of his breath is electrifying, lips nearing your pulse point eagerly.

Bucky’s lips ghost over your skin as he explains, “Cause once I’ve had my way with you, you’re gonna be a hot fucking mess, sweets.”

A breathy moan tumbles from the depths of you chest at the crude insinuations of his words; your eyes flutter shut, an unintentional reaction that you’re grateful for as it hides the way your pupils roll to the back of your head.

Through the dark span of your eyelids, you picture exactly how Bucky will make you a hot fucking mess. Spread legs with his tongue delving through your folds, back arched as he pounds into your pussy with vigour, his hands guiding your hips back to meet his as he fucks you from behind. The images bear too much for you yet you can’t stop picturing the salacious scenes, not when your neighbour is pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

“James…” You sigh, voice carrying the weight of a thousand pleas.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

Nodding your head desperately, you whine, unable to form any words beneath his sinful tongue.

“Words, doll.” Bucky says, lips hovering over your ear. He’s struggling to hold back but can’t let himself touch you the way he wants to until he hears you spell it out for him.

Turning your head slowly, you peer at Bucky with half-lidded eyes and a slack-jaw. “I want you, James. Please.”

That’s all it takes to disintegrate the final remnants of the firefighter’s self-control before his full lips meet your own with a hunger that’s been brewing for months.

Bucky’s lips glide across yours, slotting between your own so easily it’s got you believing this is not your first kiss. It’s soft and sweet but so goddamn sensual that you can’t help but moan into his mouth, the now open gap giving him the perfect chance to slide his tongue inside.

You bring your hands up Bucky’s body and rest them on his neck, fingers tentatively feeding through the hair at the nape of his neck while you jostle for control of the kiss.

Forced to pull back for breath, you take a peek only to find those strikingly blue eyes already on yours.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky whispers, “you don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“Probably not as long as I have.” You scoff.

“Then let me make up for lost time.”

“Wait, what do y-“

Within moments, Bucky is lifting your legs over the bench and is knelt between them, his large hands teasing the hem of your dress as he keeps your thighs spread apart.

Your mouth is agape with surprise while you grab onto the piano behind you for stability, a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins. And as if he can read your anxious thoughts, Bucky looks up at you with the most sincere expression across his soft features.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, despite the deep desire shining in his eyes. He wants you more than anything, but he needs to know you want him too.

It’s an easy answer and you’re shaking your head faster than you care to admit, but the memory of Bucky’s prior words flash through your mind and you still just as quick.

“No.”

Watching intently as he runs a hand from your ankle up to your knee, the firefighter rolls his bottom lip between his teeth when your breath hitches.

“Then promise me you’ll tell me if that changes?” Bucky asks.

You reach down and run your fingers through his chestnut locks, tucking the few loose strands behind his ear.

“I promise.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweets.”

A hearty laugh reverberates through you, but you’re quickly silenced by Bucky’s lips on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He kisses his way up to your heat, slowly pushing your dress higher and higher till the only thing between you and his mouth is the crimson lace panties covering your mound.

A sound you can only describe as a growl ripples through the room and you glance down at your neighbour to find him practically drooling at the sight of you. But then his eyes are on yours, his hungry, half-lidded eyes, and he’s tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Your breathing becomes laboured at his touch, your body, your mind, all of you at his mercy.

“Bucky, please…”

“Ah ah ah-“ The firefighter tuts, “-since when do you call me Bucky?”

You frown, back arching slightly in search of some friction on your core, too aroused to process his words properly.

“Look at me, Y/n.”

The stern nature of his tone lures your eyes to his once more. “What?” You ask, confused.

“I haven’t spent months goin’ crazy listening to you use my name only to have you call me Bucky when I’m finally between your legs.”

The throb of your pussy spurs you on and you tilt your head teasingly. “Touch me, James.” You say, and he obeys.

Bucky glides his hands up to your hips and drags your panties lower and lower, his lips chasing the lace till there’s no where left to kiss but your slick folds.

He hovers over your heat with bated breath before forcing himself to close his eyes and ask if you’re still okay with this.

“More than okay, James.” You answer truthfully.

“Good, cause I’m fucking starvin’.”

You feel his mouth on your pussy before you’ve even processed his words, tongue delving between your folds like he really is starving and you didn’t just feed him the best dinner he’s had in years. Though something tells him that title is about to be beaten the second you cum all over his face.

Your mouth curves into an ‘o’, the most pornographic of moans escaping you at the sinful sounds of Bucky’s mouth on your cunt. Drowning in increasingly intense waves of pleasure, your senses are dialled up to the max; with every flick of his tongue and suck on your clit, you find yourself falling deeper in your arousal. It becomes impossible to listen to anything Bucky’s telling you.

“Y’taste so sweet, doll.”

“Doing so good for me, aren’t ya? My good girl.”

“Let me hear you, doll, need to hear how good you feel.”

Whether it’s praises or orders, there’s no chance in hell of you understanding a word that falls from his lips, though Bucky doesn’t mind. The clench of your soft thighs around his head tells him all he needs to know - that even if your heads not fulling comprehending him, your body is. And the sheer amount of slick glistening across your cunt is enough for him to know that you’re ready for more.

The sensation of Bucky’s finger tracing along your pussy lips sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your hips lifting off the stool.

“James- oh fuck-“

Words die on your tongue when Bucky eases a finger inside you. White hot pleasure builds at your core, burning the last remnants of your self control, its embers coaxing a near-scream out of you.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweets. That’s- shit you’re so tight, pussy’s squeezing me and it’s just one finger.”

You mewl and squirm beneath him.

“How you gonna handle two of ‘em, doll?”

Bucky’s mesmerised at the sight of his finger gliding in and out of you, drenched in your sweet juices, too beautiful of a sight for him to give up by eating you out. But when you groan at the suggestion of two fingers, he drags his gaze upwards and is greeted with a view that’s evening better.

You, draped against the piano, head tilted back and brows drawn together while uneven sighs tumble from your swollen lips. God, you look heavenly, Bucky thinks. He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud, but it makes little difference seeing as you’re rather preoccupied with the thought of Bucky fucking another finger inside you.

“James?” You call, reaching down to cover your left hand around the one at your sex, the other tugging on his hair.

“Yeah? Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?” He panics, thinking you’ve grabbed his hand to stop him.

Instead, you look him in the eye and say “Are you gunna fuck another finger inside of me or what?”

An awe-inspired grin spreads across Bucky’s face at your question. He keeps his blue orbs on yours while he presses a kiss to your clit and pushes himself higher till he’s inches from your face.

He rests a hand against the piano, caging you in and says, “Anything for my girl.” before a second digit joins his first.

The stretch knocks the wind out of your chest but Bucky hardly gives you any time to adjust, his fingers pumping in and out of you even faster than before. His palm slaps against your bundle of nerves with every thrust, the force riding to your chest where your tits bounce in rhythm.

“So damn beautiful…” The firefighter says.

You look up at him through your lashes and pull his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. With clashing teeth, the wet slapping sounds only feeds into the moment and Bucky’s suddenly very aware of the tightness in his jeans.

With each passing second, the cord in your stomach is getting so close to snapping that your mouth isn’t even moving against Bucky’s anymore.

“Fuck, James, I’m- I-“

“Shh, I know.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You gonna cum all over my fingers, doll? Gonna let me see you fall apart?”

You nod feverishly.

“Good girl, now let go for me.”

That’s all it takes for the damn to break loose and the fiercest orgasm of your life to rack through your body. It reaches every part of you, all the cracks and crevices you never thought could be touched, yet here you are, feeling every inch of yourself set on fire.

“That’s it, doll, that’s it.” Bucky comforts you while you lay victim to the aftershocks of his work, slowing the thrust of his fingers till your breathing evens and he moves to gently circling your sensitive clit.

“Holy shit…” You sigh, a satisfied and totally fucked-out grin playing across your lips.

Noticing how your hazy your eyes still are, Bucky smiles to himself while pressing loving kisses on your forehead.

“You did real good for me, sweetheart.” He listens to you hum beneath him as he moves to kiss your temple. “Y’look so pretty when you cum, you know that? Even prettier than I imagined.”

You twist in your seat to face your neighbour. “You’ve imagined this too?”

“Every night, doll.”

“Huh…”

Though Bucky’s eyes remain fixed on yours, it’s obvious that his mind has slipped away; he’s now clouded by memories of his x-rated dreams, ones that have ended with him pumping his embarrassingly hard length into his fist one too many times, and his cock twitches in his ever-tightening pants. You notice the movement at his crotch and, emboldened by his confession and the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you decide to take back some control.

“What have you pictured doing to me, James?” Your tone is so sweet, so innocent, that it takes a moment for your words to register in his brain. But when it does, boy, does a fresh wave of blood rush to his cock.

“You sure you wanna know? Cuz it ain’t all sweet and innocent.” He warns.

You say nothing and let your actions do all the talking; you slide a hand down to meet his left, the one still nestled between your sticky thighs, and tug it away from your cunt. With your eyes locked on his, you raise Bucky’s cum coated fingers to your mouth, slowly wrapping your lips around them and sucking your sweetness away. Making sure to give the firefighter a show, you swirl your tongue around his fingers before taking them as deep as you can, a knowing look in your eyes when you notice Bucky clenching his jaw.

After releasing his fingers from your swollen red lips, you press a kiss to the palm of his hand. “Tell me.”

What you can only describe as a growl rises from the back of Bucky’s throat and before you know it, you’re being carried to your bedroom, legs bound tightly around his waist while your arms wrap loosely around his neck.

He sits down on the edge of the bed; hands resting on your hips and edging lower to your ass, his fingers grip the supple flesh to keep you in place.

His force on your hips is pushing you down on his ample bulge, sparking a flash of pleasure straight up your spine that escapes you with a moan. Bucky chuckles softly with a sinful grin as you tilt your head back at the feeling.

“You wanna know what I’ve imagined us doing, doll?” The firefighter grabs your chin to bring your attention back to him. He runs the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, tugging on it and letting it bounce back into place.

“I’ve pictured us just like this.” He drops his hand to your neck, tracing the curve of your collar bone till it meets the strap of your sundress. “You, naked and beautiful as ever, riding my cock like I know you can.”

You gasp lightly when he tugs your strap till it’s tumbling off your shoulder.

“And you’re telling me just how full you are, how stretched your little pussy is around me, choking my cock like a damn vice.”

Bucky’s filthy words send your hips into motion without warning; you grind your bare cunt over his crotch, the tent in his pants settling between your slick folds till his shaft is enveloped with your warmth.

“Does that sound good, doll? To have my cock buried inside you when you bounce on it? Fuck, I bet your cunt is dripping for me again,”

“It never stopped, James.” You whimper, your sensitive clit sending jolts up your frame as Bucky guides your hips over his.

“That’s right, you’re never gonna use anything else to cum ever again. You got me now, doll. I’m all you need. Me, my cock, I’m gonna ruin everyone else for you.”

You don’t even notice that Bucky’s hands are on the zip at your back, slowly pulling it down till the fabric are your chest goes slack, and with the straps already draped over your shoulders, the flowing material cascades around you, tumbling to your hips and leaving you defenseless to Bucky’s insatiable blue eyes.

“Fuck me, sweets, you’re- god- you’re perfect.” He leans in and kisses your collarbone. “So,” kiss, “So,” kiss, “perfect.”

Your eyes flutter shut, lost in the feeling of his touch, and Bucky smirks when he sees you. He teases a hand up your soft skin till it sits just beneath your tit, daring to reach up and play with you in the ways he’s always dreamt of.

“Is this okay?” He asks, earning an even more passionate grind of your hips as you push your chest closer to his open mouth.

He chuckles, “Needy, aren’t ya, sweets?”

You whine.

“Hmm, lucky for you, this is exactly what I imagined doing to you, what I’ve dreamt of for months…”

His lips wrap around your hardened nipple with haste, the warmth of his mouth a welcome sensation. He sucks at the sensitive nub, this tongue reaching out to soothe you afterwards. You throw your head back and moan loudly.

The sound of bucky loudly licking and sucking on your tits is driving you crazy, to the point where your hips are stuttering over his, practically drowning in the feeling till you have no control over your movements.

“God, I love your tits. Wanna act out every dream I’ve ever had of you. Fucking your tits, your throat, your cunt, anywhere you’ll let me, doll, please. I’ve needed you for so long.”

You blush at the word love, surpressing the hope that is stirring at the possibility that your tits aren’t the only thing he loves. Has he really wanted this as long as me? You wonder, picturing everything he just revealed he’s been wanting.

“M’So fuckin’ hard for you sweetheart, I know you can feel me. Dick’s throbbing, doll, it’s s’hard it hurts.”

You pull at his hair so he’s looking up at you again and capture his lips in yours.

“I wanna see you, Bucky…”

He groans and reaches for the hem of his shirt which he waists no time in tearing off. Your chest rises and falls heavier than before, eyes raking his physique just like you had that night he was leaving the shower at his place.

You trail a finger down his abs till it brushes the button of his jeans teasingly.

“All of you, James.” You look pointedly at his crotch. “May I?” You ask and when he nods, you climb off his lap and sink between his legs on the floor, you dress tumbling to the ground immediately.

Bucky’s abs tense as you work to undo the button, your hands tiny in comparison to his body. Next, you work the zipper up and over the bulge of his cock, the teeth desperate to come apart after being so constricted for so long. The two sides of denim snap away from the tent of his boxers, perfectly presenting where the firefighter so badly needs your touch.

He helps you kick off his jeans till the only thing between you is his boxers. You trace a finger up and down his shaft through the cotton, enjoying the sticky patch of pre cum leaking through the top.

“Have you ever imagined me sucking your cock, James?” You ask with half lidded eyes before kissing his covered shaft. “Cause I have.”

Bucky whimpers - whimpers - at your words, his hips snapping up to your face uncontrollably.

You begin to drag down his boxers, trailing kisses down down down, your lips greeting his tip when his cock flicks up against them before your eyes even get chance to glance at him.

Your eyes flutter shut at the salty taste on your lips, revelling in the breathy moans from your neighbour.

“Fuck- pl-please honey, I need your- argh- mouth around me!”

You make eye contact with him from your place on the floor and ask if he’s sure.

“More than anything.”

And with that, you take his thick length into your mouth, lips sealing around his angry pink cock head briefly when your trace your tongue over his slit, before gliding lower down his cock.

You take as much of him as you can, but you need time to warm up having never taken a cock as large as his before.

“You’re so big, baby.” You say as you pull off his shaft with a pop, “Biggest I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

A frustrated groan arises from the firefighter and you feel his hand on the back of your head, gently pushing you to his dick once more.

“Suck my cock, doll, just like we’ve both imagined, nice and deep, please.”

You take the base of his cock in your hands and guide his tip back to your lips.

“Atta girl,” Bucky encourages as you take him deeper and deeper.

He feels you relaxing your throat to take more of him and his balls clench at the feeling.

“Argh fuck, fuck, fuck. Good girl, oh my god, yes!”

His praises and curses cheer you on and you manage as much of him as you can, only an inch or so remaining that’s simply too thick to fit in your mouth. Lord knows how he’ll fit in your pussy, but you’re sure he’ll figure it out.

You bob your head on his length over and over till you’re in desperate need of air. You let your hands work your spit and his precum up and down his hard cock while you catch your breath and watch his beautiful face contort into one of extreme pleasure.

Your chest fills with pride at Bucky’s facial expressions; making him feel good is somehow more rewarding than anything you’ve done in your life and you find yourself content at the thought of spending the rest of your days pleasing him.

Bucky is oblivious to the gratified smile toying your lips and wholly unprepared for your next movement.

“Oh god- oh fuck, doll-” He groans, his breathing staggered and eyes clenched shut when you take his balls in your mouth, the skin sloppily wet from your work on his cock, and now enjoying the warmth of your mouth.

“Oh honey, do that again, felt so go- argh!” He’s interrupted by you tending to his sack once more, your tongue swirling around them and lightly sucking.

You moan around his pretty, swollen balls, the vibrations drawing a sigh of pleasure from your neighbour. The trimmed hair at the base of Bucky’s member is tickling your nose while you fight to taste every part of him.

With a final sharp suck, you release his balls with a small plop, plant a wet kiss on each and flatten you tongue to lick a bold stripe up his length. The tip of your muscle presses into the vein on the underside of his dick and Bucky thrusts upward, his hips bucking as he desperately searches for more.

As you ready yourself to glide his cock down your throat once more, you feel Bucky’s hand on your cheek, pulling you off him.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” You ask with a concerned frown, nervous that you’ve done something wrong to have Bucky stopping you. You wrap your hand around his forearm, the one outstretched to hold your hair, while the other remains enclosed around his cock.

“Nothin’ bad, sweets, it’s just that- fuck-“

You absentmindedly stroke your thumb over his girth, a motion you intend to be comforting but in reality, it just makes him throb even harder in your hands.

“-I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep using your pretty mouth like that.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

He laughs lightly and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Cause as hot as you’d look swallowing my load, I’d much rather cum inside that sweet pussy for our first time.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth before pecking a doting kiss to his forearm and letting Bucky pull you to your feet. His eyes follow yours till he’s looking up at you from his seated position, his hands falling to your hips with an awestruck face.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” His voice is barely above a whisper. You blush crimson.

“Get on the bed, doll.” He orders. “Lay on your back.”

You do as he says and once you’ve settled, he crawls on top of you. It’s quiet for a moment as Bucky stares lovingly down at you, burning the image into his memory to remind him he has everything he needs.

“I should have found the guts to do this months ago…” You murmur, pushing the fallen tendrils of chestnut hair behind his ear. He looks so goddamn perfect; the golden glow filtering through your window catching every feature you’ve spent so long dreaming about, and now he’s here, really here, and you can’t help but stroke his cheek with revere.

“We have now, doll. That’s enough for me.” Bucky whispers. “Are you comfortable?”

You nod, truthfully, both in terms of your position but also for what’s coming. But then his elbows bend out and he’s lowering himself onto you.

“How about now?”

There’s a gleam in his eye and a playful smirk on his lips as he watches your chest heave, your body taking more of his weight now.

“No!” You giggle.

“No? Is this better?” Bucky teases, briefly laying his whole weight over you until you paw at his shoulders to push him off.

“James! You’re squishing me!”

The melody of your carefree laughter has Bucky melting and he pushes himself up onto his hands once more. His lip is tucked between his teeth, enjoying the view as he becomes increasingly aware of his cock now just one slip away from your pussy lips.

Quickly coming to your own awareness of Bucky’s rock hard length pressing into you, you sober up.

“Darling?” You tug on his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb.

Bucky’s brows pinch closer slightly.

“I need you inside me.”

His soft lips are crashing against yours within moments, his hand fighting between the nonexistent space between your bare bodies to grasp his cock and guide his tip to your bundle of nerves.

The sudden taste of how good Bucky can make you feel forces a sharp breath from you. It’s so much yet not enough, all at the same time.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, okay? Let me take care of you how you deserve.”

After a meek nod with your hands finding refuge in Bucky’s soft locks, he trails his cock head down your pink folds till it catches on the dip of your entrance.

Bucky tempts a whimper from you as he slides inside of you, your walls stretching to accommodate his larger than average member.

“Fuck, doll, you’re so tight for me.” The firefighter moans, resisting the urge to snap his hips and bottom out completely.

You’ve yet to make a sound, the sting in your pussy not yet dissipating, and when you glance down at where your bodies meet, you realise you’re barely taking half of him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky’s reassuring voice is ghosting over your ear, “you’re taking me so well, sweets. You need me to go slower?”

You clench your eyes shut briefly, “No, keep going, you’re just so…”

“So what?”

Bucky watches a deep red creep up your neck before returning his gaze to your eyes, that now dance across the room avoiding him.

A gentle grasp on your chin draws you to face the breathtaking man above you and you clench around his dick.

“What happened to the little minx who was practically beggin’ me to fuck her, huh? Don’t get all shy on me now, dollface. I’m so what?”

His words have you spilling yours without second thought. “You’re so fucking thick, James, cock’s splittin’ me in half.”

He groans and snaps his hips fully into yours, making you scream out, “Jamie!!!”

His scalp burns when you pull on his hair harder than before, your moans filling the room like a broken record. Bucky should be focused on the furrow of your brow, your laboured breaths, the way your cunt is choking him, anything about how perfect this feels, but all he can focus on is how with one thrust, you called him ‘Jamie’. And you didn’t just say it, you screamed it.

“Shit, honey, say it again.”

“Ja-Jamie…” You whine and feel Bucky draw his hips back before pounding into you once more.

“Again.” Your neighbour growls.

“Oh my god, fuck- I”

“Again.”

It takes everything you have to open your eyes and look at him. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

“That’s my girl.”

Bucky drives his length into you till his tip is hitting your cervix, the pleasure wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air out of you. You fight to breathe as Bucky drills into you, over and over, softly grunting with every thrust.

“Never felt anything as good as your cunt before, doll. Wanna spend the rest of my life buried inside you.”

You pull his lips to yours and, back arching from the mattress, dive your tongue into his mouth with vigour. He lets you explore his mouth while fucking you deep and fast, the headboard of your bed slamming against the wall and probably driving your neighbour crazy. Oh wait, he is your neighbour, and it is driving him crazy, but in the best way imaginable.

“So goddamn tight, sweets, y’pussy was made for me,” He swallows your whimpers happily, “don’t you think? You feel how good i’m filling you up, honey? Sliding in an’ out so easy, you’re so fucking wet for my dick.”

“Harder, Jamie.”

Goddamn.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll do whatever you want.”

You lose yourself in his thrusts; the sting has long turned into the most pleasure you’ve ever felt, and that’s saying something after the orgasm he lulled from you only a few minutes ago.

“Fuckin’ me s-so good, Jamie.”

“Ah- just like that, baby.”

“I’m getting close, James, need you to go faster.”

Your pleas send Bucky’s cock pulsing and he does exactly as you wish. He fucks you faster, fighting off the desperate urge to cum inside your sweet cunt.

“Jamie…” You sigh.

He grins up at you from his place at your tits, his tongue reaching out to tease your nipples. You push his head down till he takes your sensitive bud in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue over it while he gropes its twin.

The tight coil in your stomach is twisting to its limit and you find yourself dangerously close to cumming around Bucky’s hard, thick length.

“I’m so- oh fuck- i’m so close, James.”

He lifts his head and eyes you with lust blown pupils.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll? God, I can feel you clenching around me, you wanna cream all over my cock? Huh?” He smirks at your pornographic moans. “Bet I’ll look so good covered in your cum, sweets, maybe I’ll let you clean me up, put that mouth to good use.”

“I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum,” You chant several times breathlessly.

“Let go for me, sweet girl, make a mess o’my cock. Cum, doll.”

Your body shudders as your hips grind up into Bucky’s, your walls tightening before he feels you gush around him. Practically screaming in pleasure, you bite down on Bucky’s shoulder to quiet yourself, though the pain travels straight to his member, still fucking into you with force.

“Fuck, James, you’re so perfect, never came so hard in my life- shit-“

He’s groaning into your ear, his balls slamming against you and filling the room with salacious wet slaps.

“You’re so wet and- fuck- I can’t- I can’t hold back much longer.”

You tug on the hair at the nape of his neck and lick up the side of his throat, tongue catching the salty beads of sweat in its path. Reaching his earlobe, you suck on it lightly and whisper into his ear.

“Want you to cum inside me, Jamie. Fill me up, please, I need your cum.”

“Argh, fuck!!” Your words send Bucky over the edge and his hips stutter while he finally lets go.

“Oh god, yes!” Bucky grunts. “Take my cum, doll, fuckin’ take it.”

Your tongue seeks his neck once more, pressing open mouthed kisses as his cock shoots streams of white seed into you, the spurts seemingly never ending.

“Fillin’ my cunt so much, Jamie- fuck- you feel so good!”

As his cock softens, his thrusts slow to a more bearable pace, both of you so sensitive from your orgasms. Catching your breath takes a minute or two, but in the meantime, you coax satisfied sighs from your firefighter by running your hands up and down his back; the light sheen of sweat greets your fingertips as you touch him tenderly.

With no words being shared, you focus solely on Bucky’s breathing, the rise and fall of his back beneath your hands and the weight of his body on yours. It should be uncomfortable, but you’ve never felt so at home in a place, let alone with a person, in your life.

“That was…” Bucky murmurs into your neck.

You finish his sentence, “Pretty damn good.” Laughter ripples through the muscles of his back.

“Yeah,” He agrees and pulls back slightly to look at you, “you feeling okay?”

“If by okay you mean ‘completely and utterly fucked out’ then yeah, I’m great.”

You grin cheekily before pushing his hair behind his ear yet again, an act you find yourself praying that you’ll get to do for the rest of your life.

“How are you feeling?” You ask sincerely.

Those blue orbs flick between your own, laced with an emotion you hope to be love. “Like I want to be with you like this forever.” Bucky admits. “That and completely and utterly fucked out.”

You laugh heartily, bringing a beaming smile to Bucky’s swollen red lips.

“Let me clean you up, doll.” He offers before pushing himself off you, much to your dismay. He disappears to your bathroom for a minute before returning with a damp cloth in hand.

“Can you spread your legs for me, sweets?”

He bites a chuckle at how quickly you obey him and gets to work, wiping away your shared cum from your pussy and goosebump-ridden thighs. The towel is warm and soft on your skin, lulling you to sleep, though you fight to keep your eyes on your neighbour.

“You’re so beautiful, James.” You say, reaching to place your hand on his that sits beside you hip, where he’s leaning his weight.

He smiles sheepishly and focuses on the job at hand. Once you’re clean, Bucky carries you to the bathroom so you can do your business, waiting patiently outside after putting his boxers back on and grabbing his henley for you to wear.

When you step out of the bathroom, Bucky’s holding his he let out in front of you. “You looked a bit cold so I thought you might want a shirt?”

You smile, “Your shirt?”

“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck, muscles flexing at the movement, “You don’t have to, I just thou-“

He stops talking when you pull the henley from his grasp and tug it over your head. It swallows you whole and the sleeves tumble past your hands, but Bucky thinks it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

Grabbing his hand, you pull him back to your room and back into bed, tugging the sheets over you both where you nestle into his chest.

“You’re staying, right?” You ask with the most puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

“Of course, doll.”

Smiling to yourself, you curl up against the firefighter. “Woulda cooked you a meal months ago if I knew that’s all it took for you to finally fuck me.”

a/n: filth. pure filth. so sorry that it took me a lifetime to post this - life got lifey and it took me ages to get this right. it’s my second time writing any sort of smut so i hope it was good for y’all. thanks for all the support, it means the world to me. love you guys, red ❤️

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yandere-daydreams · 2 months ago

Text

Title: Love and Care.

Pairing: Yandere!Clark Kent x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 4.0k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @distortedhumor.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Prolonged Captivity + Kidnapping, Spanking, Psychological/Physical Abuse, Slight Infantilization, and Delusional Behavior.

You were going to freeze to death.

That was – if you didn’t die of dehydration, first. You really weren’t sure which was supposed to work faster; thirst or exposure, the acidic dryness crawling up the back of your throat or the slow, numbing chill spreading up from your toes, your fingertips. You didn’t have to worry about hunger – even if you could feel something sharp and hollow gnawing at the pit of your stomach. You remembered reading somewhere that it took longer than a month for someone to starve to death, even if it was hard to believe that when it felt like you were on the verge of collapsing into yourself.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t been prepared. Admittedly, it’d been an impulsive thing to do, the half-baked result of a door left unlocked and the daunting awareness that you had at least twelve hours before you so much as heard from Clark again, if not the full twenty-four. You didn’t have shoes more durable than house-slippers and the delicate, lovingly polished, Mary Jane heels he liked to see you in, but you’d put on your thickest dress, stuffed a bottle of water and a few slices of homemade bread into knapsack, and started walking into the lifeless, rolling plains that surrounded the rustic farmhouse he kept you in. You didn’t run – he always seemed to know if your heart rate spiked– but you had all day to walk until you found a road, or a phone booth, or anything else that could at least remind you that other people existed. You figured you’d come across something eventually, even if you couldn’t find the help you were looking for.

Except, you’d underestimated just how cold the countryside could get in autumn, and you hadn’t thought to ration your meager supplies until after they’d already run out, and as far as you could tell, he’d found the most vacant, lifeless, desolate corner of the world to trap you within. The hem of your skirt was caked with mud and dust, your knapsack had been left behind entirely after you realized there was no point in carrying and empty bag, and one of your heels had broken off about two miles back – leaving you reduced to a slow, hobbling limp. Your body was exhausted beyond exhaustion, but you couldn’t imagine a world where you stopped walking. The only thing worse than knowing you were going to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere would be knowing that you’d just laid down and accepted it, and if you’d been willing to do that, you wouldn’t have run away at—

Your foot caught on a dense patch of undergrowth, and too tired to catch yourself, you crumpled – your knees hitting the earth with enough force to make you whimper. The last of your perseverance crashed and shattered as soon as you hit the ground, and before you could so much as try to stand up, you fell apart completely. You felt the tears before you realized you were crying – just one, at first, then another, then more than you could ever hope to count. You threw your head forward, sniffling miserably as you collapsed onto your side. You were going to die out here, but…

But, that was probably for the best, wasn’t it? It was either die out here, or die in that lonely farmhouse when Clark finally lost his temper or the roof collapsed or the ‘villains’ he was also so worried about finally did their job and put you out of your fucking misery. With a full-fledged sob, you curled into yourself and clenched your eyes shut, and—

And of course, less than a full second later, you felt a pair of muscle-bound arms your crumpled form, sweeping you off the ground and dragging you into a broad chest. You were too weak to meaningfully resist, but still, you tried to writhe and nudge yourself out of his iron-clad hold to little success. He was already talking, too. Great. On the ranked list of things you might’ve wanted to hear immediately after accepting your own mortality, your kidnapper’s nervous babbling didn’t crack the top hundred.

As if that had ever stopped him before.

“—and I thought you’d gotten hurt, and your pulse sounded so far away, and— and I don’t know what I would’ve done if it’d taken me any longer to find you.” You tuned in mid-rambling, trying to swallow your agitation. He was bent over you, his face buried in your hair, giving his voice an unsteady, muffled quality. For the world’s strongest man, he was quick to fall apart whenever he thought you so much as might be in danger. You couldn’t really judge him for that, though. You fell apart whenever he wasn’t around, too, and you didn’t care about him at all. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? There’s a hospital about fifty miles away, I can—”

“I’m fine,” you cut in, your hands shoving at his forearm where it was barred over your waist. With an airy sigh, he repositioned you – letting you fall into a proper bridal-carry rather a fully-body tackle. You noticed, for the first time, that his feet weren’t touching the ground. He was levitating, a nervous habit that that back into too often to keep track of. He must’ve genuinely thought you were in danger. More importantly, he must’ve known there was no one around to see him doing something so obviously superhuman. “Just a little cold. I‘m sorry for worrying you.”

Another sigh, this one more genuine than the last. For the first time, he drew back, and you were able to see him properly. He must’ve come straight from Metropolis; he was still wearing the suit you’d seen him in that morning, his hair slightly disheveled and his glasses shoved haphazardly into his shirt pocket. You tried to breathe, not to be thankful for how quickly his inhuman warmth was ebbing away the harsher edges of your hypothermia, and for the most part, you succeeded. You felt his lips brush against your cheek, then the corner of your jaw – Clark as affectionate as he was paranoid. “Poor thing,” he muttered, haphazardly shrugging off the jacket of his suit and draping it over your shoulders. “We’ll have to get you warmed up once we get home.”

Despite yourself, you stiffened. It was over - you knew that. He caught you, and even if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been able to go on much longer. You knew that.

And yet, you held yourself that much tighter as you asked, “…do we have to go home right away?”

Clark’s smile softened; his expression slackening is a patronizingly sympathetic sort of way. He didn’t need to answer, not really, but you still cringed when he inevitably did. “Of course, dear.” And then, with another kiss to your forehead. “How else can I keep you safe?”

You might’ve been nicer than him, after all. Rather than respond, you bowed your head and tucked yourself against his chest, shutting your eyes and blocking him out entirely. Clark only hummed in acknowledgement, flying that much higher and taking you home.

It took an embarrassingly short time to reach the farmhouse – less than a full minute, if that. It wasn’t what you deserved, but it was what you needed: a reminder that you were trying to run away from someone who didn’t have to run at all to keep up with you. Trying to escape on your own was pointless. You’d either have to find another way to get away from him or give up entirely.

Despite your constant squirming, Clark only put you down once you were inside (meaning, once the front door was locked and deadbolted with you securely trapped behind it), and you stumbled to your feet, still on the verge of collapsing. He let you struggle through all of two steps before taking you by the hand and, with that award-winning smile, guiding you through the farmhouse. “A warm bath should do the trick. Some tea, too – or coffee, to keep your blood flowing.” His eyes flickered down to the mud-caked hem of your dress, your ruined shoes. “It’s a pity. I know that’s one of your favorites.” He paused, squeezed your hand. “We’ll have to pick out another together. Maybe tomorrow, before I leave for work.”

You bit the side of your tongue, nodding along absently and letting him ramble. When you passed the staircase leading to the second floor, to your bedroom, you started to move towards it, but Clark only continued further into the house.

“Uh, Clark?” You dragged your feet as he pulled you into the kitchen. “I— Um, tea sounds nice, but I’d really like to change, first, and—”

“In a few minutes.” Another infuriating smile, another squeeze to your hand. “Do you remember what happens when you break one of our rules?”

You felt something in your throat tighten. You’d managed to forget, but it came back quickly enough. “I do, but— I was out there for a few hours, and I can’t really feel my—”

“We’ll take care of that in a few minutes, love.” He was already moving towards the kitchen table, your hand still trapped in his. “We should get this over with now.”

Trying to argue would’ve been useless. You did your best to grit your teeth, to brace yourself, but your vision still blurred as he finally released you, settling into one of the simple wooden chairs. You crossed your arms over your chest, but it did little to put a barrier between you and his prying gaze. “Do you want to undress yourself? Or, do you need my help?”

Shaking your head, you fumbled with the buttons lining the back of your dress. Usually, you could manage on your own, but your hands were still numb, and you were fighting back tears, and Clark only watched you struggle for a few seconds before motioning for you to come closer. Soon enough, cotton and lace pooled uselessly at your feet, leaving you all-but entirely exposed in front of him. You didn’t need to be told to take off your shoes, kicking them into the depressing pile of fabric that used to be your favorite dress, but when it came to your panties, you hesitated, glancing toward Clark with a pleading look. “All of it,” he confirmed, with a tone bordering on apologetic. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

As if that would make you feel any better.

You sucked in a deep breath, then eased your panties down to your ankles. You’d been wearing one of your nicer pairs – white and silken, with a lace trim around the edges and a ribbon bow that was just slightly too big to be entirely inconspicuous. They were one of Clark’s favorites, even if you doubted you’d ever hear him admit something crude out loud. You could only hope you’d never see them again.

You kept your eyes on the floor as he took you by the waist and with as much effort as it might’ve taken to move a doll from one shelf to another, lifted you up and laid you over his lap. His thighs bit into your stomach as a hand found its way to the small of your back, rubbing slow circles into the base of your spine. “We’re only going to do fifteen, alright?” It wasn’t really a question, so you didn’t bother pretending you were going to answer. Clark didn’t seem to need you to. “And you know I’m doing this because I love you, right?”

That, you couldn’t get out of so easily.

“I know,” you mumbled, because that was what would upset him the least. “That doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.”

He didn’t make a sound. You wondered if he’d heard you at all, at least until the flat of his palm came down on the plush of your ass and immediately, it was impossible to think about anything at all.

It was a small mercy that he didn’t make you count. It was something he’d tried early on, the first couple of times you‘d thrown a chair through a window or stolen his phone or hoarded weapons underneath the mattress of your shared bed, but you’d never really been able to hold yourself together long enough for anything like that. You broke down too quickly, too easily – fuck, you were breaking down right now and he’d only hit you once. You could already feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, a knot welling up in the back of your throat that only seemed to let little, pitiful whimpers and miserable sobs slip by. You tried to steel yourself, to bite back any signs of weakness, but that only meant you’d forgotten to brace yourself for the second strike – just as bad as the first, centered more towards the back of your thigh than your ass. He was trying to spread the pain, to make sure any marks he left wouldn’t be permanent. He was trying to be gentle.

It was scarier than it should’ve been – knowing that he really did care about you. You couldn’t call it ‘love’, not really, not if you still wanted to be able to live with yourself, but he had to care about you, at least enough to pay some amount of mind to your well-being, at least enough for you to be sure he didn’t hate you (although, some days, you could still be convinced otherwise). He didn’t love you, but he thought he did, and the fact that he could earnestly believe he loved you and still treat you like this made you very, very afraid of what could happen if he ever changed his mind.

By the third strike, you were crying unabashedly, and by the sixth, your hands were clamped around his thigh, your nails biting into his skin in less of an attempt to hurt him and more of a desperate scramble for any kind of stability he had to offer. It was all force, no friction – a bruising, throbbing type of pain quickly spreading outward from every part of your body unfortunate enough to be under his palm. You couldn’t seem to talk, but Clark didn’t have an issue, pausing after every blow to rub circles into your bruised skin and mutter to himself. You couldn’t imagine he still thought he was talking to you. “I just worry about how you’d manage things, out there, all on your own,” he explained, his tone cloyingly sweet. Like he was talking to a child, too naïve to know any better. Like he could still expect you to believe there was anything in the world more dangerous than him. “You know I’ll always keep you safe, but I can’t be everywhere at once. It’s easier for both of us if you just—” A pause, an airy chuckle. “—if you just stay out of trouble.”

You’d lived in the city for years and never gotten into trouble, not before meeting him. Saying that felt pointless, though, especially when he was already moving onto the seventh.

Fifteen was a terrible number. If there’d been twenty or more, you might’ve been able to go numb by the time he finished, and ten or less would’ve given you a chance to preserve at least some of your dignity. At fifteen, though, the pain was still intense enough to be blistering, and you couldn’t seem to choke down your own keening sobs as Clark brought down his hand for the final blow – using just a little more force than he really had to, making sure the lesson would stick for the next couple of days, if not the next couple of weeks. He was strict, like that, despite how tender-hearted he pretended to be. If he wasn’t, you would’ve acted out more often.

You had to believe you’d act out more often.

You were still limp and crying when his arm wrapped around your waist and with a raspy, adoring sound, he sat you up – letting you straddle one of his thighs. Whatever relief you might’ve felt at the end of your punishment was immediately overshadowed by the pale, reddish tint spread visibly across his face, the feeling of something too large and too stiff pressing into your leg where it fell between his. Clark didn’t acknowledge it, though, and you were happy to follow his lead, melting into his hands as he cupped your face, basking in his happily provided comfort. There was a shallow exhale as he tilted your head back, pressing another lingering kiss into your forehead, before dipping lower – falling immediately to your neck. You let his lips make contact with your throat before sniffling and shifting in his lap. “Hurts, Clark,” you murmured, doing your best to make your voice that of something small and in need. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but… can we go upstairs, first?”

That was enough to snap him out of it. “Right. Of course.” There was one last peck to your collarbone before he pulled you into his arms, any thought of letting you walk on your own prematurely dismissed. You tried to go blank as he trailed through the farmhouse, not to focus on anything but the pain and your exhaustion, but your gaze seemed to catch on everything you didn’t want to see – the bowl of dough still rising on the kitchen counter, the torn dress-shirt you’d planned on mending today, a dozen tiny things that all drove their own little needles into the pit of your stomach. In Clark’s defense, the housewife shtick hadn’t been his idea, but you couldn’t say he was entirely blameless, either. When you were left trapped and alone, given nothing to do and no way to occupy your time, there was only so long you could last before resorting to household chores. It was just a happy coincidence that the byproducts of your captivity were practically identical to the kind of sugar-sweet, domestic behavior that’d always seemed to melt his heart, back when your relationship wasn’t so insidious.

At least the bathroom was warm. Still too unsteady to be trusted to walk on your own, you sat on the vanity while Clark ran a bath, staring at your hands absentmindedly as the steam started to ebb at the chill. When the tub was nearly full, he helped you into it, more than happy to make it seem like you couldn’t so much as move without his help – which, in his defense, you really couldn’t. As you sunk into the scorching water, you made a mental note not to let him touch you at all tomorrow. You doubted it would be enough to fix the damage tonight had done, but it’d be better than letting him coddle you half-to-death.

Surprisingly, Clark didn’t hover over you for very long. “I think I promised you something to drink,” he explained as he moved to the doorway, his smile suddenly sheepish. Like he had any right to be shy about what he’d done to you. “I’ll be back in a second – unless you think you’ll need a hand?”

You hesitated, but shook your head. “’m fine. I just need some time to think.”

“Not too long.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes prying into you for a second, then another before he turned away. “I think we should be careful about what gets into your pretty little head, for the next few days.”

And just like that, you were left alone. For the first time since he’d brought you home, you let yourself relax. The hot water momentarily dulled the pain, but without the agony to distract you, humiliation quickly took its place. You shouldn’t have let Clark take you back so easily – that only gave him more leeway to treat you like some naïve, fragile object he’d been tasked with looking after. You shouldn’t have taken your punishment so quietly, even if you doubted clawing at his legs and thrashing would’ve actually accomplished anything beyond salvaging your pride. You shouldn’t have run away at all, not if it meant triggering Clark’s paranoia, not if it reminded Clark that you’d still take any chance you saw to get away from him. You’d have to be smarter about it, if you ever to escape tried again.

(You did your best to ignore that, a few months about, the same sentiment would’ve been followed by ‘when you inevitably tried again’. You weren’t superhuman. You didn’t always have the strength to be so delusionaly optimistic.)

When Clark did return, he was blissfully quiet and careful to keep his distance, sitting on the edge of the tub while you haphazardly washed the dust out of your hair and scrubbed the mud from your skin. Even after the water had gone cold and you’d managed to struggle to your feet, his touch remained fleeting, ginger as he bundled you in a towel and lifted you into his arms – his sudden distance no excuse to treat you like a living, breathing, capable person, apparently.

You didn’t have the energy to be frustrated. Exhausted and beaten down, you closed your eyes and rested your head against his chest, only stirring slightly when you felt Clark lower you onto a quilt-padded bed. You started to sit up, but the feeling of a hand laying over your hip was enough to stop you. When you opened your eyes, you found Clark, still standing, still staring down at you with that dazed, lovesick smile. “It’s really amazing, how someone like me could ever end up with someone like you.” He dipped lower, his lips finding the side of your throat. There was no pretense of innocent affection, this time, just his mouth on the side of your neck, his teeth ghosting over your skin. His voice was stifled by proximity, but mournfully audible. “I love you. I’m always going to love you. You know that, right?”

“I... I do.” You sounded hoarse, weak – more so than you would’ve liked. Clark nipped playfully at your collarbone, nearly breaking the skin. “I know you’ve been waiting, but—”

“Guess I’m just that impatient, when it comes to you.” There was an airy chuckle, a glint to his smile, but neither were very comforting. Again, you made an attempt to flee, and again, he found a way to keep you where you were – his hands curling around your thighs as he eased your legs apart. There was a hollow thud of body against floorboardas he fell to his knees, as he pressed yet another open-mouthed kiss into the inside of your thigh. “I just can’t help it. You make it hard for me to think straight.”

Not that he was trying to. You opened your mouth, trying to think of something that could distract him, that could convince him you just couldn’t do this, but he’d latch onto your cunt before you could spit anything out – the flat of his tongue running over your entrance while his nose ground into your clit. With your ass still blistered from your punishment and your nerves still on-edge from the cold, that was all it took for you to bolt upward – your hands automatically finding their way to his hair in a desperate attempt to pry him off of you. Of course, he didn’t budge, and of course, when he did glance up, he did it with that lovestruck expression that you’d never been able to stand. That you never wanted to see again.

That you just couldn’t seem to wipe off of his fucking face.

“Clark,” you whined, his name fractured and mangled on your tongue. “Please, I— It hurts, and I’m so tired, and I just—” You cut yourself off, swallowing harshly and trying to catch your breath. “Please, don’t.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Your heart skipped a beat, hope swelling in your chest. He melted into your palm, grinning like an idiot. “You can relax. I promise, I’ll be gentle.”

And just like that, you felt something deep in your chest crack open and shatter.

The next time he bowed his head, burying himself between your thighs, you didn’t bother trying to stop him.

You didn’t do anything at all.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere dc #dc x reader #dc imagines #superman x reader #clark kent x reader #yandere superman #yandere x you #yandere clark kent

1K notes · View notes

hvseung · 3 months ago

Text

stuck (s. jy)

pairing: older ceo!jake x employee!reader (f)

genre: smut.

warnings: explicit smut, dominant jakey, profanity, cheating, oral (m receiving), minor mouth play, unprotected sex🥸, minors DNI !

wc: 4.4k

🎵now playing: slow down by chase atlantic

.｡.:*:.:**:.☆*.｡.:*:.:*.｡.:*:.:**:.☆*.｡.:*:.:*

As the clock ticked toward 6:00pm, the office was slowly beginning to clear out, the only noises heard being the soft whirring of computers and a few stragglers murmuring soft goodbyes as they packed their things. However, here you were, furiously wracking your brain on how you were going to manage to get through the piles of paperwork, which had been dumped on your desk during your shift, in the span of the next half an hour when all you could focus on was the night ahead of you. After a long and grueling week, a peaceful night with your boyfriend, Soobin, was just what you needed. You smiled to yourself, already imagining his easy laugh and the way he always reaches for your hand without even thinking. You loved your boyfriend, obviously…. “Fuck this” you thought as you gathered your belongings, eager to leave and push the rest of your work responsibilities to the back of your mind. That’s a Monday job.

You adjusted the strap on your purse as you stepped into the elevator, mind too preoccupied to notice the hand quickly jamming between the doors just before they could slide closed. They opened again with a soft chime and you were pulled out of your daydream by the sight of your boss, Mr Jake Sim, standing on the other side. His tall frame, clad in a perfectly tailored suit, was almost the caricature of corporate authority. Of course, he was still here. He was always the last to leave, the type who believed in leading by example, even if it meant setting an impossibly high bar. You’d grown to admire his work ethic, even if it made the rest of you look a little lazy by comparison. “Heading out?”

“Yes, just about to.” You replied, trying to mask the slight annoyance in your tone. The last thing you wanted was to get trapped in a conversation about quarterly reports when you were this close to freedom. You shifted awkwardly as he stepped in. The silence between the two of you was loud, the only noise being the hum of the elevator as it began its descent, the small space amplifying the tension between you. It wasn’t that you disliked Jake; it was just… you two had history and he had a way of making everyone feel like they were being judged. His presence was a stark reminder that, in the hierarchy of the corporate world, you were just another cog in the machine.

12…11…10…9… You glanced at your watch, willing the elevator to move faster. You were eager to get out of the building, away from the sterile fluorescent lights and the endless stream of emails that had plagued you all day. You thought about texting Soobin, who was probably waiting in the car park for you right now, to let him know that you were on your way down. 8…7… But as if in response to your thoughts, the elevator jolted to a sudden halt. The lights flickered before the emergency lighting kicked in, leaving a dim and eerie glow over the two of you.

“Did we just…?” You murmured, looking up at the ceiling.

Jake moved quickly, pressing the buttons on the panel, but received no response from them. He pulled his phone out before sighing, the first sign of irritation breaking through his composed exterior “No signal.”

“No… no no this can’t be happening-“ You groan, panic evident in your faltering tone.

Jake responded with a short nod, his expression unreadable. “It looks like we might be in here for a while.”

As the minutes dragged on, you tried not the think about how long you were going to be stuck like this, or how it was ruining your plans with Soobin and how you didn’t have signal to let him know. Instead, you focused on staying calm, hoping someone would come to your rescue soon. But with every passing second, the shiny metal walls of began to close in on you. The silence between you and Jake grew heavier… and it wasn’t just the discomfort of being trapped. There was an unspoken tension between the two of you that neither had fully addressed but were both painfully aware of.

A year ago, things had been different. You had been one of Jakes top performers, a rising star in the department. You were quick, innovative, and always willing to go the extra mile. Jake had recognized your potential early on, and he had taken you under his wing, mentoring you and giving you opportunities to shine. You had spent long hours working together on projects, strategizing late into the night. You had respected his keen business acumen, and he had appreciated your fresh perspective and dedication.

It was during those late nights that something had shifted between you both. At first, it was just a shared glance that lingered a little too long, or a casual touch—a hand on your back as he guided you into a meeting room, or the brush of fingers as you passed papers to each other. Neither of you acknowledged it but it was intoxicating, this mix of professional respect and undeniable attraction. Both of you knew it was dangerous. He was your boss, nearly a decade older, with a reputation to maintain. You were becoming a crucial member in the company, with too much at stake to risk your career over something that could never be. Yet, the attraction was there, undeniable and electric, simmering just beneath the surface of your interactions. Not to mention your relationship.

But everything changed six months ago. You had been working on a major client pitch—one that could secure a crucial contract for the company. You had poured everything into it, sacrificing weekends and late nights, and Jake had been there every step of the way, guiding you, challenging you to push harder. There was an unspoken understanding between both of you, a mutual trust. The late nights grew longer, and the tension between you more palpable. There were moments when you were alone in his office, when knees would bump and the conversation would drift away from work, and for just a second, you would both forget who they were supposed to be. The lines blurred, and the unspoken attraction nearly spilled over into something neither could take back.

Then, just days before the presentation, he had unexpectedly pulled her from the project. No explanation, no discussion—just a curt email informing you that the project would be handed over to another colleague. You had been blindsided. You tried to ask him why, to understand what had gone wrong, but he had become cold and distant, shutting down every attempt you made to discuss it. Rumours circulated that the decision had come from higher up, that Jake had been pressured by senior management, but he never confirmed or denied them.

The fallout had been swift. You felt humiliated, betrayed by someone you had looked up to. You distanced yourself, retreating into your work, but the easy camaraderie you once shared was gone. You could barely look him in the eye during meetings, and your interactions became strictly professional, devoid of the warmth and mutual respect the two of you once had.

For you, being this close to him again brought back all the confusion, the hurt, but also the desire that had never fully gone away. The small space seemed to amplify the awkwardness, each moment stretching into an eternity as you both grappled with the weight of your unspoken history. Neither knew how to bridge the gap, or if it was even possible anymore.

Jake leaned against the wall of the elevator, his eyes flickering over to you every so often. You could tell he was uncomfortable too, if not more than you, but his poker face gave nothing away. He looked away, clearing his throat.

“You still seeing whats-his-name?” His voice was casual, but laced with an underlying curiosity

“Soobin?” You shifted awkwardly, playing with your fingers “Uh, yeah. I am.”

He nods slowly, as if he expected the answer, but still felt a pang of… jealousy? “Serious, huh?” He almost scoffed, feigning nonchalance.

“Yeah. We are.” I shrug, making Jakes eyes narrow slightly.

“Why him?” The question was blunt, almost blunt enough to be rude. He couldn’t help himself though, the thought of you with someone else, especially someone as carefree and easy going as Soobin, rankled him in a way that he couldn’t admit.

I scoff lightly. “Are you really going to do this now Mr Sim?”

“Oh, so its ‘Mr Sim’ now, is it?” He retorts, a familiar irritation settling in. “What happened to ‘Jakey’?”

“I’m pretty sure you made it clear that you wanted us to be strictly professional when you dropped me from that project.” You grit, the memory still a sore spot between the two of you.

He bristles at the reminder. “That wasn’t my decision,” he sighs, the excuse sounding weak now, especially in the confinement of the elevator. He turns to look at you properly. “And that was different. That was work. This… this is something else.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit, don’t act like that.” He takes a step closer towards you, invading your personal space “Like you don’t remember the late nights, the tension, or have you conveniently forgotten all about that part?”

“Mr Sim don’t do this. Not now.” You finally meet his gaze, your patience warring thin.

“Why not?” He counters with a bitter laugh. “Seems like as good a time as any to have this conversation.”

“There is no conversation to be had,” You swallow harshly as he steps closer, his tall frame looming over you “it was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” His jaw clenches, the air thicker than it was. “Is that really what you think it was?”

You couldn’t deny that you knew full well what it was. You liked Jake, as much as you wouldn’t admit. The worst part being, he was everything your boyfriend wasn’t. He was everything you longed for your boyfriend to be. You felt awful, in fact, the knowledge of your feelings towards Jake had been eating away at you everyday since the day they started. The late nights working side by side, the discreet touching, it was more than a simple attraction; it was completely wrong. But that just made you want it even more.

The proximity was almost intoxicating, the familiar heat of his body igniting a fire in you that you had tried so hard to smother. You could smell his cologne, the same scent that you would spend hours trying to rid yourself of before going home after late nights spent with him at work. The memory hit you like a physical blow, and you found yourself holding your breath. You cursed your body’s betrayal, the way it ached for his touch, even as your brain screamed in protest.

Jakes gaze darkened, the last shred of his patience and self-control hanging by a thread. He lifted his hand, his fingers hovering a mere inch away from your face. It would be so easy. So easy for him to claim what he had been yearning for, to forget the boundaries he had placed between you.

“Would this be a mistake too?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Jakey…”

His resolved shattered. He surged forwards, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you hard against his chest, crashing his lips onto yours in a passionate, desperate kiss. The months of pent-up desire, the longing, the uncertainty, it all exploded in that moment. You opened your mouth to protest, but his tongue delved deep, silencing any words. He pushed you back against the wall, pinning you there as his lips claimed you with an intensity that was almost animalistic.

One of his hands reached to tangle in your hair, tugging it back to give him access to your neck as he began to suck and nip at the sensitive flesh. You gasp, almost whining, and he relished in the sound, his other hand gripping your thigh and hoisting it up to hold against his hip.

“Jake we can’t- not here.” You protest.

“Don’t care,” he retorted, his lips trailing to your collarbone. He nicked softly at the skin, his teeth grazing the flesh and leaving small marks “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.” He ground his hips against yours, making his intentions and arousal blatantly obvious. His hand caressed your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “You don’t understand how torturous it’s been, seeing you every day and knowing I can’t touch you.”

His hand slid under your blouse, his touch igniting sparks across your skin. It was wrong, so wrong, and yet it felt so right. He pulled the fabric taunt, his large hand splaying over your stomach. You arched into his touch, begging for more.

Jake smirks at your reaction; the small sighs and whines that leave your pretty lips as you subtly arch your back. He knows you want it as badly as he does, your body giving you away. His hand slides up your ribcage, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin below your bra.

“See?” He murmurs, his hand cupping your breast through the thin lacy fabric that he loved so much. “I knew you wanted this; wanted me.” His voice was gravelly, rough with desire. You knew he was right. Youd fought against it for so long, denying your feelings and convincing yourself you were happy with your relationship. But now, here, with jakes body pressed against yours like this, all your justifications seemed hollow. He tilted your head up, forcing you to meet his heavy gaze. His eyes were dark, almost predatory, and they pierced right through you.

“Say it.” He commanded and his hand kneaded your breast gently “Say you want me.”

“I want you Mr Sim.” You whimper without any hesitation.

“That’s what I thought.” His mouth was back on your neck, his tongue licking a hot, wet trail down the column of your throat. His teeth sink into your pulse point, sucking the skin into his mouth. You could feel his hand sliding lower, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your trousers. He was driving you insane, reducing you to nothing but a whining mess as he slowly unbuttons your blouse. He pops one button at a time, kissing and biting the skin in between each one.

You moan, tilting your head back to give him complete access to the sensitive skin on your neck whilst one of your hands reaches to tangle in his hair. He responds to your touch with a deep, guttural sound, somewhere between a growl and a purr. He pushed your breasts together, pulling away from your neck to purse his lips. You watched as a glob of spit falls from his lips and lands on one of your nipples before rolling down the crevice.

Jake moaned loudly, immediately ducking his head to smear his lips around your boobs, nipping and sucking at them. You moan louder, arching your breasts further into his mouth and allowing his to suck them properly. He devours your tits, each falling out of his mouth with a satisfying 'pop'. His mouth returned to yours, his tongue delving between your lips to devour you entirely. He catches your lip between his teeth, biting down gently.

“On your knees.” He ordered, and you obeyed immediately.

He inhaled sharply as he watched you sinking to your knees before him, his hands instinctively going to your hair. “Look at you, doll,” He muttered. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, smearing any lipstick that remained. “I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t approve of this.”

You whine, the mere idea of your boyfriend having completely slipped your mind. But you were too far gone to care, opening your mouth slightly, just enough for him to slip his thumb past your teeth. His eye darkened further, the digit sliding further into your mouth.

“You like sucking on my fingers, don’t you?” He chuckled; his voice thick with need. “Bet you like your boyfriends just as much.”

“No sir.” You shake your head meekly. “Like your fingers so much more.”

“Is that so?” His voice was a little raspier now, desperate for something more than just this back and forth teasing. “Then show me how much you like them.”

You take index and middle finger whole, gagging and swirling your tongue around the thick digits. Jake groaned, his eyes widening as he watches you take him so easily. He tightened his grip on your hair, pulling slightly. “That’s it.”

His unoccupied hand moves to the front of his trousers, undoing his belt and top button in one fluid motion. He was achingly hard, and the slight of you like this in front of him was thinning his patience. You pull your mouth from his fingers, reaching up in a desperate attempt to help him undress. He let out a hiss as your fingers make contact with his strained pants. “Yeah, unzip me then.”

The sound of his zipper being drawn echoed in the quiet elevator. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, your wet lips, the way your fingers fumble with his pants, the flush on your cheeks that gave away your mounting excitement. God, he was desperate.

You get his pants down, whining as he tugs your hair forward to press your cheek flush against his thick bulge. The feeling of you face against his clothed dick make him shiver, his hips canting forward involuntarily; seeking more contact. “You like that, don’t you? God your so dirty. Are you this dirty for your pathetic boyfriend too?”

“No sir, only you.”

“Good,” He groaned again, pulling on your hair again. “I don’t share.”

Your finger hook underneath his boxers waistband, tugging on the elastic and letting it snap back against his skin before pulling them down completely. He helped you, kicking the boxers down until the pooled at his ankles with his trousers He stood there, his lower half completely exposed to you, but he held your chin in his face, keeping you gaze on his.

“You see how much you affect me, doll?” He smirked predatorily as your eyes fixed on his cock, hard and flushed against his stomach. “But you’re gonna take care of this for me, aren’t you?”

Your tongue darted out, licking a tentative stripe up the underside of his boner. He let out a shuddered breath, his hand clenching reflectively in your hair. He guided your head closer, encouraging you to take him properly. You run your tongue over his slit before closing your lips around the head. He groaned, his body arching towards you and silently bidding you to keep going.

“Look at me when you suck my dick baby.” He ordered. Your eyes immediately catch his gaze; his half-lidded eyes that perfectly complimented his bottom lip caught between his teeth. The sight encouraged you, holding his gaze as you take him whole and wrapping your lips around his base. Jakes head rolls back, a deep, guttural moan escaping his throat. He pants as you begin bobbing your head at his base, your nose nudging against his lower abdomen with a soft gag. “Fuck, just like that.”

You speed up, taking him even deeper - if that was possible, desperate to take as much of him as you possibly could. His muscles clenched in response, his abs flexing as he drew in a gasping breath. He finally looks down at you again, eager to see what you look like taking him so far down your throat like this; and you didn’t disappoint. You looked at him through your eyelashes, sucking him so deliciously with a teary expression. He couldn’t look away; he didn’t dare. It was too perfect, so erotic and beautiful.

“You can’t look at me like that, YN,” He moans. “I won’t last.”

You immediately double down, bobbing and swirling your tongue like your life depended on it. You had a different purpose now; this was no longer about him, this was about you. You and your desperation to taste him. His hands twist in your hair, his grip border lining on painful.

“Holy fuck-“ He choked, his stomach coiled like a spring. He was so close to cumming, but he didn’t want to. Not yet, not like this. He moved your mouth off him, pulling you up to your feet and pushing you back against the wall. “Turn around. Now.”

As soon as your back is turned to him, his hands are on you in an instant. His fingers run up the clothed skin of your thighs before reaching around the unbutton your trousers. He undid the button and zipper with a swift, practiced motion, each tooth separating echoing in the cramped space. He pushed the material down, the cold air hitting your soaked core immediately. His hands glide slowly over the newly exposed skin, teasing you.

“So smooth,” He mused, his voice almost a soft whine. “I knew you’d be.”

He pushes your thighs together, rutting his dick between them. You moan in unison, his tip bumping against your clit. He just couldn’t help himself, seeing you so wet and puffy for him was making him borderline insane.

“Don’t tease me, Jakey.” You whine as he holds your thighs closer together. He chuckled at your pleading, the old nickname making his spine shiver. He ruts between your thighs one more time before abruptly slipping into your pussy. You gasp loudly as he pushes in, grasping onto the hand-railing in front of you as you adjust to his size.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” He groans as he grips your hips, pulling you back to take him fully as he finally begins to rock into you. “Does your boyfriend even fuck you?”

You were too lost in the moment, the feel of him, the way he held you, the sound of his voice, that you could barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak. But when he mentioned your boyfriend, a pang of guilt stabs at your chest.

“No?” He assumed, scoffing loudly. “I bet he doesn’t even know how to.”

His arm tightened around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. His hips speed up, making your head fall back against his shoulder with a loud moan.

“You need someone who can take care of you,” he told you, his breathing becoming a little ragged. “Someone who knows what you want, what you need.”

The only thing that can be heard in the confined elevator now is skin slapping, combined moans and your body hitting the metal wall with each deep thrust. You respond with a whine, pushing your hips back to encourage him. He catches your signal, slamming his hips against yours.

“That’s it, baby,” He hisses, his fingers digging into your hips desperately. “Take what you need.”

You could feel every inch of him. Every inch of his thick, veiny length as he filled you up perfectly with each thrust. It made your head spin as you moaned and cried desperately. There was no you could go back to your boyfriend after this, not now that you knew what real dick felt like. And he seemed to sense your realisation, the way your body arches against him, the way your eyes rolled back so beautifully. You were his now.

He increased his pace, his tip bumping against your g-spot with every harsh blow. The pleasure was mounting between you, both of your stomachs coiled like springs. But neither of you dared to say anything, too desperate to prolong this moment for as long as possible.

He could feel you getting tighter, your pussy clamping down on him like a vice; like you never wanted him to pull away. Jake moans, a needy whine in his throat. Every movement, every breath, moan – it was all for you. He was entirely wrapped up in you.

“I’m so close baby.” His hips bucked forwards more, aiming to get as deep as he possibly could.

The sound of his moans, the way he was falling apart because of you, it only served to push you closer to the edge. You could feel his eagerness and it made you want him even more. “Me too!”

“You gonna make a mess on my dick?” He pants, his tip continuing to slam against your g-spot. "Gonna make a mess like a good slut?"

“Yes!” You moan loudly. His hips stutter at your admission, his rhythm growing erratic and sloppy. “Wanna cum with you.”

“Please let me come in your sweet pussy, baby” He whines, desperately nudging his nose against you neck before attacking the spot with bites.

“Fill me up sir!” You push back against him again. But it wasn’t enough for him, he needed you to cum.

“Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum on this dick.” And that was all it took for your walls to clamp down on him and for your juices to explode down your thighs with a loud cry. His head dropped to your shoulder, his breathe catching in his throat, the feeling and sound of you pushing him headfirst into pure ecstasy.

“Fuuck, doll!” He came, filling you up perfectly with a loud whine as his arms wrapped around you in a vice-like grip. He stayed like that for a moment, panting into your neck. He didn’t want to move, his body taut with exhaustion. “You look so pretty when you fall apart like that. So pretty.”

He slowly pulls out of you, almost hardening again when he watches his cum drip down your thighs in thick globs. You flinch as you turn around, a ball of clothes hitting you in the face. Your fingers grasp the clothing, pulling them down from your face to glare at him. “Yeah, real classy.”

As if on cue, the elevator jolted, beginning its decent again. You sigh, relieved that you could finally escape the humid box you had been trapped in for the past 20 minutes. You both put your clothes back on, smoothing the fabric and fixing each other hair. The elevator finally reaches the ground floor, both of stepping out together.

“See you Monday?” He smirks.

“See you Monday.” You roll your eyes as you turn on your heels. You walk away from him and out into the car park, desperately hoping Soobin hadn’t left yet. Jake watched as you retreat out of his view, thanking god.

Thanking god that you didn’t notice him push the emergency stop.

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@ hvseung, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway. thankyou :)

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#enhypen #kpop #fanfic #fanfiction #sim jaeyun #sim jake #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #enhypen smut #enha #enhypen fanfiction

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salsakiyoomi · 3 months ago

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i ii

sukuna fucked up.

he knew it well, so damn well that he did.

it's been a few weeks since your declaration that you won't be with him anymore until he gets his shit figured out — he hated being away from you, but dammit he knew he was an asshole.

he was an idiot to think you'd be under his influence forever.

sukuna's leg bounces as he sits on his bed, contemplating what to do now —it's been four weeks exactly since you had last spoken to him, and he had seen you around campus, laughing and talking with your friends normally without a care in the world, it made him wonder if he had ever had an effect on you the same way you do on him.

you told him that he was the guy for you all because he hadn't dropped you yet — he thought that was stupid, pathetic even, why would you ever think that?

the more he thought about it the more he realized how wrong he actually was.

he realized it in the way his days seemed lonelier without you, and how his heart always thumped extra loud with the thought of you, and the way you felt so good in bed — fuck, this is getting out of hand.

screw it all, he thinks, getting out of bed and stomping his way over to your dorm, hoping he'd find you there and awake.

it was a half hour past midnight when rapid knocks came at your door — you were on the couch doing some work on your laptop when you jumped from your skin at how loud it got.

you got up, a frown on your face as you make your way to the door wondering who the hell is knocking so damn loud so late into the night.

you open the door and you're immediately shoved inside — you let out a scream before you realize it's sukuna holding your face in both of his hands.

“i can't do it anymore.” he says, his eyebrows furrowed and you stare up at him, confused.

“w-what?” you stutter, your face is still in his hands and you're cheeks are squished together and with that dumbfounded expression on your face sukuna thinks you look too cute for your own good.

“i can't do it, i can't stay away from you,” he says, and he sounds a bit out of breath and that's when you realize that his hair is dripping wet — had he come through the rain just to tell you this?”

“ryomen, what's —” you're cut off with his lips are against yours, he tastes of berries and cigars but god you melt under his touch.

he pulls away after a moment, he's forehead against yours as he stares into your eyes, taking deep breaths.

“i was a stupid asshole,” he says, “i am the guy for you.” he declares and once more you're dumbfounded.

is this his way of confessing to you?

you blink, once, twice, then you let out a laugh.

“you're so silly.” you say, and he frowns, “does that make us official then?” you ask, a smile on your face.

“if you want,” he grumbles.

you grab his face, pulling him in for a quick kiss, “of course i do.” you say and his heart beats a little faster.

man, he was head over heels in love with you.

taglist : @samaraxmorgan

#ok i promise things will be uphill from here #mostly anyway #drummer! sukuna college au #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk headcanons #jjk drabbles #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna headcanons #sukuna drabble #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader

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azrielsrealmate · 3 months ago

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if I don’t put my hands over you right now…

azriel x reader

summary: your night in Rita’s was supposed to end with Azriel between your legs, not Azriel beating up your abusive ex.

warnings: suggestiveness, fight, blood, injuries, dark themes if you squint, SLIGHT trauma from an abusive relationship.

word count: 2.7k

Yk when at the High Lords meetings Azriel just snaps when Eris speaks about Mor..? Yeah, I liked that scene way too much. So here this is😸

Rita’s is packed, the heat radiating from every dancing body, the rhythm of the music pulsing through the floor and vibrating in your bones. You've spent nearly half an hour letting yourself go to the rhythm, your hips swaying in time, your eyes half-closed as Mor laughs and pulls you closer to the crowd. You're intoxicated, not just by the liquor you've consumed, but by the power you feel in being so aware of your body, so heated and alive in this dress that hugs you tightly and leaves so little to the imagination.

You spent hours getting ready. Three hours in the bathroom, meticulously shaving, slathering yourself with coconut creams until your skin was soft and fragrant, every detail of you arranged with almost cruel precision. And while part of you did it just to look good, to feel pretty, you know there’s something more. A deeper desire, the real reason you spent three hours locked away like a maniac.

The reason hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he first saw you that night. Azriel. It's always been Azriel.

The push and pull between you two has been constant, furtive glances and subtle touches, half-spoken words and smiles that hide more than they reveal.

You know he’s watching you, you feel it even when you’re not looking, a sensation that burns the back of your neck, and anticipation grows with every passing moment, tingling under your skin. A pang in your gut—intuition, they call it—you think something is going to happen. Naively, you think it might be good, really good, a reward for those three hours in the bathroom pampering yourself.

The music shifts to a slower, deeper rhythm, and the heat in the room seems to intensify. And you really can’t take it anymore, your breath is quick and shallow, and you hate the thought of breathing in the scent of sweat from constantly moving bodies, so you decide it’s time for a break, for a cold drink to refresh you.

You pull away from Mor with a smile and head to the bar, enjoying the slight coolness that the nonexistent breeze offers. At least there aren't people blocking everything in your view anymore.

Just as you're about to order your drink, you feel it. That familiar scent of cedar and mist, an aroma that always makes you turn your head, that wraps you in a feeling of safety, of desire, and something darker. Your heart beats faster with it, urging you to be afraid, but you're smarter than that. And then, the hands. Firm, confident, and so large on your hips that you fantasize about what they could do to you, they settle on your hips and pull you back against a hard, unyielding chest.

Though his chest isn’t the only thing that’s incredibly hard.

You laugh softly, knowing who it is without even having to look. You can feel the strength in him, the tension built up in the way he pulls you so desperately against him. He’s so close, and he leans down so that his mouth is right by your ear, and when he speaks, his voice is a low growl that wraps around every inch of your skin, making you exhale, your skin prickling. You press your thighs together.

“If I don’t put my hands on you right now, I’m going to put them around the neck of every man looking at you.”

The whole world seems to stop for a second. Your breath catches, and the pulse in your throat pounds. You knew there would be consequences tonight, but the reality of it hits you like a punch. Azriel, always controlled, always restrained, is on the edge, and the idea of that control breaking… is intoxicating. You smell it, so thick you can taste it, musky. God, you’d give anything to have it on your tongue for real.

“You don’t have to be so dramatic,” you murmur, but your voice trembles, betraying you. Because deep down, you like it. You like that he’s so close, that he’s so vulnerable with you, that he feels something so fierce that it drives him to act. Your words seem to only provoke him further because the grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress.

“Dramatic doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he whispers against your ear, his warm breath trailing over your skin. “You… have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

The trembling inside you turns into a wave, and you can barely contain it. It’s an effort not to roll your eyes in pure pleasure, not to rub your thighs together to get some friction.

“And what are you going to do about it?” you whisper, challenging him. Although to you, it’s not a challenge, it’s an offering. So full of need that you have to mask it.

Azriel doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turns you, gently but firmly, until you’re face to face with him. His eyes, as dark as the night itself, are lit with a mix of emotions that make you tremble. Slowly, his gaze lowers to your dress, the slight leopard lace that gathers at the top, just enough to give him a tantalizing view of the skin you so carefully prepared.

“This dress…” he murmurs, his voice deep and laden with meaning. “It’s on purpose. You knew what it would do, what it would do to me.” His hand moves up, slowly, from your hip to the small portion of bare skin on your shoulder, brushing it with a tenderness that contrasts with the fire in his eyes. “If you wore it for me, then I have the right to take it off you.”

Your lips part, words trapped in your throat as you try to process the intensity of what he’s saying. But before you can respond, his mouth is on yours, stealing your breath, demanding more than you thought you were willing to give.

The kiss is hard, fierce. His tongue claims your mouth as his own, exploring and savoring; you barely have time to keep up with him.

His hands roam over your body, exploring the skin you’ve prepared for him, and you cling to his shoulders because your knees are trembling. It’s as if the world around you disappears, leaving only Azriel, his mouth on yours, his body firm against yours, and the fire that heats your skin and spreads to his.

When he finally pulls away, you’re both panting, and he looks at you as if he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you again or carry you out of Rita’s right then and there.

“Let’s go,” he says, his voice more of an order than a request, and although his tone is firm, there’s a plea in his eyes. A need that mirrors your own. And it’s completely overwhelming, you can only nod. And your legs move when your mind is still dazed from the kiss, his hand on your waist as if he can sense that.

Azriel comes to a sudden stop, just before you can cross the threshold of Rita’s, when a cold, venom-laden voice rises above the club's noise.

“Already got another man?”

Your heart stops for an instant, the heat of euphoria fading as you recognize the figure approaching. Tall, dark-haired, and gray-eyed, who used to look at you with something you believed was love, but now only shows resentment. Your face hardens at the sight of your ex, and a familiar tension settles in your chest, a reminder of the scars you still carry.

Azriel notices immediately. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. You can feel the tension in him, the way his body prepares to act, to protect you. Azriel’s shadows, always lurking, slip across the floor between you like snakes, dark and threatening until one of them coils around your shoulders.

“We broke up over a year ago, get over it,” you say, your voice tense but firm, maintaining your composure despite the turmoil inside you. You have no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing how much his presence affects you, how much Azriel’s grip on your waist is doing for you.

But he laughs, a bitter, hollow sound that makes your stomach churn. He takes a threatening step toward you, and though your body wants to retreat, you stand firm. You know this game. You know he’ll drink and get drunk on the slight fear in your eyes, he’ll go crazy if you back away, he’ll think he has more power than he does, so you force yourself to stay still.

His fists clench, and you see Azriel’s gaze turn lethal, a flash of cold fury that he barely contains.

Your ex doesn’t give you time to respond, the gray of his eyes fixed on Azriel, and his voice comes out filled with disdain, as sharp as a knife. “You’ll find out soon enough, she’s not worth it. All that pretty face, and she’s not even going to suck your…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t. Because the moment those venomous words leave his mouth, Azriel moves, faster than a blink. You feel the heat of his body leave you for an instant, and then, the sound of impact. A dull, heavy thud reverberates in the air, and you see your ex stagger backward, blood spurting from his nose.

But Azriel doesn't stop there.

The wild gleam in his eyes tells you everything you need to know: he's not going to stop. He doesn't want to stop. With lethal efficiency, he launches himself at your ex again, his fist finding its mark over and over, with a fury that has been simmering for too long, now unleashed in an unstoppable torrent.

And you... do nothing to stop him. You could always say you were paralyzed, that you didn't know what to do, that it caught you by surprise because you remain there, your feet rooted to the ground as you watch Azriel destroy the man who had hurt you time and again. You should scream, you should intervene, but you don't. Because a part of you—that dark and wounded part—feels a perverse satisfaction watching him get what he deserves. Each blow seems to erase one of the invisible scars he left you, each groan of pain he emits sounds like justice for the years you lost with him.

Blood splatters the ground, and your ex tries to cover himself, but it’s futile. Azriel is unstoppable, his face transformed into a mask of pure rage, his shadows swirling around him like frenzied beasts, hungry for more.

But then, a giant figure bursts onto the scene, a whirlwind of muscle and strength. Cassian.

In an instant, the General of Rhys’s armies is upon them, his arms encircling Azriel and pulling him back with brutal force. But Azriel fights, his body trying to break free, desperate to keep punishing that man, to make him pay for every word, every insult, every wound he caused you.

"Azriel, stop!" Cassian’s voice booms above the chaos, laden with authority, but also concern. Cassian tightens his grip, his wings spreading to block everyone else’s view, his expression hardened as he uses all his strength to contain his brother.

You barely see it, but you hear him growl, a sound that doesn’t seem human, and for a terrible second, you think he might even turn on Cassian. His shadows swirl, dark and violent, but then, in an almost imperceptible movement, you see Azriel close his eyes, taking deep breaths, struggling with himself, fighting to control his rage.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Azriel relaxes enough for Cassian to release him, though his eyes are still blazing with that fury that makes you tremble. The shadows slowly recede, as if they still want to attack but obey their master.

Your ex lies on the ground, gasping, his face barely recognizable from the beating, but you know he’s conscious. You feel the weight of everyone’s gaze, but you can only look at Azriel. At Azriel, who continues to look at you as if you’re the only person in his world, as if his vision had narrowed to just you.

Cassian holds him by the shoulders, keeping him in place, though it’s no longer necessary. The fight is over, but the air is still charged with tension, so thick that if anyone decided to push too far, it would shatter with the sound of another broken bone.

Azriel steps away from Cassian, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a step toward you, then another, until he’s standing in front of you, so close you can feel his breath on your skin.

"Are you okay?" His voice is a whisper, rough from the rage, but also filled with that unshakable concern he’s always had for you.

And for the first time in what seems like an eternity, you feel you can breathe again. You nod.

Cassian steps aside, giving one last piercing look at the man on the floor before giving you some space. Azriel remains unmoving, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, searching for any sign that this has affected you more than you admit. But all he sees is your determination.

"Let’s go," you finally say, your voice louder than you expected. You take his hand, his bloodied and bruised knuckles against your skin, and guide him out of Rita’s, away from the curious gazes and the chaos left behind.

————————————

The silence is almost overwhelming as you close the door of your apartment behind you. Azriel stands at the entrance, his eyes still dark with fury, but now the exhaustion and guilt begin to show in his expression. He says nothing, just watches you as you head to the bathroom and fetch the first aid kit. The sound of running water fills the space, but the tension between you is almost tangible.

When you return, you find him standing in the middle of the living room, his gaze lost on the floor. You don’t say anything as you gently take his hand, guiding him to the couch. Azriel allows himself to be led, his wings drooping and his posture relaxed now that the adrenaline has worn off. You can feel lighter yourself.

"Let me see," you whisper, barely a breath. You hold his hand with a softness that contrasts with the brutality of what you just witnessed. His knuckles are bloodied and his hands tremble slightly, though you’re not sure if it’s from the fight or from what he feels now.

He says nothing as you clean the blood, his gaze fixed on your hands, watching every move as if it’s the first time someone has cared for him this way. As if he’s never experienced tenderness before, and the way you’re wiping the blood from his knuckles is presenting it to him on a silver platter. It’s not the first time you’ve done this, but the intimacy of this moment, after what happened, feels different.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs finally, his voice barely a whisper. "I shouldn’t have lost control like that."

Your hands pause for a moment, your eyes meeting his. You see the guilt there, mixed with that smoldering rage that never seems to fully disappear.

"Don’t apologize," you reply firmly, resuming your task. "He deserved it. And... I’m not going to lie, Azriel. Watching him get what he deserved... it wasn’t so bad."

He looks at you, surprised by the confession, but something in your words seems to calm him. He accepts your response, though you know a part of him will always blame himself for losing control. It’s what makes him who he is.

When you finish cleaning and bandaging his knuckles, you keep his hand in yours for a moment longer, savoring the warmth you’ve always found in him. Azriel, who has always been your rock, your protector, now allows himself to be cared for, letting you see that vulnerability he so rarely shows.

"Thank you," he says softly, meeting your gaze with eyes now velvety as he looks at you without worrying about anything else, and his other hand reaching to caress your cheek with a gentleness that contrasts with the brutality of the night.

You don’t respond because there’s no need. Instead, you lean into him, allowing yourself to rest in the warmth of his embrace, in the comfort only he can offer you. Outside, the world keeps spinning, but here, in this small corner of your life, everything is calm.

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel acomaf #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x reader smut #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x yn #azriel x female!reader

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peachesofteal · 7 months ago

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Ghoap x female reader / 18+

Everything was fine.

Your phone was quiet, but that didn’t mean anything. You would wait. You’ve waited before.

Sometimes it took a while for them to ring. They had a life together, a home, things to take care of. They had lives to rebuild every time they touched down, got home, got out of their work clothes. Pieces to patch, blood to wash clean.

You weren’t their girlfriend. They aren’t beholden to you, there’s no sacred vow tethering the three of you, no promises or pledges. You don’t know Johnny’s middle name, or Simon’s, anything about their families, their private lives. You barely knew about their jobs, only holding the scraps tossed to questions lobbed back and forth across pillows. They leave little marks across your mind, little spots of scars, knowledge scratched into your skin, sunk into your body, but never too much.

You weren’t a part of their life, really.

You were a part of the dark hours. The soft ones. You were in the orange rays of sunlight cresting over the city, and the emerald abyss of pitch black night. You were the flickering yellow street light, the grey blue smoke of Simon’s cigarette. The in between. Here in the moment, gone with morning.

For months, you had spent their time home pressed between them, folded beneath them, balanced above them. They made you sing. Made you scream, made you cry.

But most of all, they made sure-

you understood the status quo.

“Say it.” Simon cradled your jaw, thumb and finger full of steel, like he was oblivious to Johnny beneath you, his cock sliding in and out of your body, his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, your back to his chest, eyes wide and mouth agape, Simon did not flinch.

“I- I’m not-“ a gasp, a groan, words bitten off when Johnny strokes faster, curved deep against the spot that makes you see stars. Sweat builds across your skin, slicking down your spine, and Johnny chases it, tongue sweeping salt clean. You swallow to try again. “I’m not- not yours.”

“Not ours.” Simon’s fingers wrapped around the engorged length of his cock, stroking leisurely, eyes half lidded. “You’re not ours, sweet girl. But we’ll take care of you, when you’re here.”

So, you fell into it. Fell into them. Got comfortable waiting for the phone to ring, going weeks or months at a time- holding your breath. You got into a rhythm, syncopated behind the swell of their voices, their bodies, their souls. Along for the ride. A passenger.

It was fine. You weren’t looking for anything serious anyway. Maybe someone to hang out with here and there, grab a drink, have some fun. All of these things, they gave you. All of these things were provided. Granted, you only went out with them to a dive around the corner, a dark, bottomless place with tar licked floors and worn away wooden bar. The kind with dusty stained glass pendants swinging over pool tables that have seen better days, wrought iron back patio furniture that squeaked when Simon would pull you onto his lap and hook the hem of your panties to the side to stare at your pussy, hungry and desperate glint in his gaze under the silver glow of moonlight. He’d flip up your dress and stroke you with the back of his knuckles, just the down the seam, cooing, telling you how lovely you look, asking how much you missed them.

They never took you out for meals, or dates, or anything like that. They kept you in bed, buried beneath them, wrung out, drained dry. They took and took and took until you had nothing left to give. They’d feed you, make you come, fill you up and put you to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

And it was all… fine.

Even tonight was fine. Johnny had emailed, said they were back in service range and they’d be around soon, if you weren’t busy. Typically, a phone call came later. Late, in small hours, when half the city slept.

So when you fell asleep to nothing, you weren’t surprised. They’d catch up with you.

They always did.

You didn’t hear from them the next day. You forced it away easily, didn’t let the unease nag at you, pasted a smile on your face for your friends when you agreed to meet them for dinner.

No strings. You’re not their girlfriend, you’re not theirs. You’re cool. It’s cool. You’re fine.

Besides, your friend had gotten a reservation at a very nice restaurant in one of those shiny new hotels that just went up.

You shoved the boys from your mind.

You were the cool girl. You were unaffected.

You’re fine.

“So how’s work?”

“Oh, it’s fine. You know, same shit different day.” You roll your eyes, touch light on the thin stem of a wine glass. The red is a shade darker than your nails, and your lips, and it tastes like sweet cherries soaked in acid. Stringent. Sweet. You’re about to reciprocate the question when the bulk of a man catches your eye, handsome width of a shoulder you’d know from a mile away.

Interest in your friend’s conversation evaporates, and your tongue turns tarnished, sticking in the back of your throat like an overgrown thorn.

It’s Simon. Your heart pounds, and you drink in the sight greedily, elated to see him outside of their flat, or in the bar. Thrilled to get a glimpse of him in the real world, in a restaurant, a real, tangible place, in a real, tangible moment.

“I’ll… be right back.” You manage, slipping from the both to the wall, openly gaping across a room full of diners. As he moves, you mirror it, coming closer and closer to a hallway, a lead off down to the bathrooms.

“Simon.” His name slips from your lips without permission, a build up of excitement and anxiety, all twisted into one heap that darts out in front of your intentions, your resolve. Not cool.

You expect him to be surprised, certainly. You expect to see that small spark, the little fire burning behind his irises, expect him sweep the length of your body.

You don’t expect the surprise to be blanketed with the white fog of indifference. The grey slab of a stone wall.

It confuses you. Startles you. And when you take a step-

Johnny turns the corner, an arm slung around the waist of a pretty, thin, blonde.

His lips part, brows knitting together in slow motion. The girl, their date, it seems, is oblivious. She only bats her eyelashes at Simon and then gazes up at Johnny, sweet and hopeful.

You turn cold. Your fingers go frigid, ice cracking through your veins and attacking your heart, slowing your pulse.

The room spins.

And you’re alone in it. Dining room chatter falls away, drowned out by the thrumming between your ears.

You’re alone. Alone, staring at them, trying to piece it all together, trying to breathe, trying to be-

Cool.

“I uh…” You teeter, precarious in your shoes that now feel like a mistake, like your dress is a mistake, being here is a mistake, getting up from the table-

You’re not their girlfriend. You’re not theirs.

“I’m just gonna… go.” You begin to backpedal. Johnny says your name, says it quietly, and takes a step, lurching forward, an animated corpse seeking its last meal.

“Bonnie, ye-“

“I’ll see you around.” You blurt, stepping back out of reach. Johnny’s fist clenches, and he casts a dubious glance towards Simon, who’s tense and focused on you. “See ya.” You croak, and then spin on your heel, trembling all the way out the door and into the cold, crisp air.

Very uncool.

#Ghoap x reader #angst #lmao #john soap mactavish #peaches writes #simon riley #thinking about the cool girl monologue #phone writing #I know there are mistakes in here

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etfrin · 1 year ago

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❝Pretty❞ — ☆　

Ethan Landry x female! reader

Warning - NSFW: Cockwarming, Somnophilia (consensual), p in v sex, Cunnilingus (f. receiving), face riding

Summary - Ethan's girlfriend, you, decided to cockwarm him while he was doing his assignment. You looked adorable falling asleep on his shoulder so he took you to his bed to fuck you like that and then you ride his face.

You looked adorable on his lap, your legs on either side of him, one of his arms around your waist, and his head on your shoulder placing absent-minded kisses to your neck as he typed with one hand.

Your walls were now molded to his length, the snugest fit of all. It had been a couple of hours since he stuffed you full with his cock. You had asked him so nicely after all. He thought you would have given in first begging him to fuck you on the desk.

Instead, you hummed playfully, occasionally talking, asking questions about his work before nuzzling into his neck and falling asleep.

Now what he was going through could be described as either a comfort or torture.

It was comforting because he loved that even when you were sleeping, your walls twitched occasionally as if trying to coax him to fuck you like this. It was nice to have you like this, the intimacy of it. It was a comfort Ethan never thought he would have. He knew his cock was leaking pre onto your walls and you were wet too, creaming onto his dick like the sweet girlfriend you are.

It was torture because he also wanted to fuck you. It was sheer will that he hadn't. It was the smile that you gave him when he stuffed you full, you were so excited about trying something new with him. He wasn't going to ruin that smile by rutting into you like the animal he is. He wanted to though.

His mind begged him to just make one thrust. A small one. Just to satiate him. He bites his lower lip instead of not giving in to that thought.

The arm around your waist left into the favor that he would finish the assignment faster with two hands, that he can get to fuck you faster on his desk if he could just hit submit as soon as he can.

Perhaps it was an hour or so that he finally finished. He could feel his dick twitch and his cock slit profusely painting your insides with his pre cum. He wanted to push you onto the table and just fuck you.

Thrusting into you without a care. But you deserved a bit better than a cold table to be on while he ruts into you. He picked you up, gently, making sure he didn't pull out completely from your cunt before he placed you on his bed.

He leaned back a bit, half of his length still stuffing you full. You looked so pretty like this. Your hair sprawled over his pillow. Your lips chapped, slightly parted as you breathed through it.

Pretty. So pretty.

He let out a small groan from the sight alone. He felt ready to burst. He slowly, inch by inch slipped his cock out of you. Your lips parted even more as if mourning the loss of being stuff full. You were nearly awake now, in the thin line of being conscious.

Your arousal was glistening off your folds, some of his pre cum mixed with it. Being the filth he is, he strokes his cock once so the more pre drools off his tip before pressing it to your clit to rub.

He did it continuously, watching his pre covering your clit before it drips down to your slit. He let out soft sighs as he teased himself like this. He holds his base tight as he starved off the nut that was near. Cumming into you would be much more satisfying after all.

He patted your right cheek once to see if you would wake up. He chuckles to himself when you didn't. He lines himself to your entrance before with one smooth thrust he pushed in. He pushed his face into the mattress to muffle the loud groan that escapes his lips when his cock found it's home in your delicious heat.

He knew you were awake now, he could feel it by how your pussy was clenching around his his cock but neither of you said a word. Both of you were fucking drunk of this pleasure. He nuzzles into your neck.

"Gonna fuck you," he whispers before it turns into a moan because your cunt tightens around his length, making him get too close too fast. "Fuck," he cursed, "am not gonna last, love."

"You don't have too," you whispered, "Fuck me and then make me cum with that tongue of yours, Ethan." He takes in a deep breath, imagining licking his own cum out of you. He bites your neck to stop him from cumming again. He was so sensitive after being hard for so long. You couldn't blame the poor boy.

You moan as his teeth leaves a pretty mark on your neck. Your legs spread for him, your hands fisting his uni hoodie. "Oh, Ethan, just let go, darling, you have been so good after all," you praise him.

He licks the skin now red from his bite before he inched out his length and thrusts right into your inviting cunt. True to his words this man couldn't last long.

It didn't take more than a couple of minutes of sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts to make him cum. It didn't bother him much that it didn't feel as good to you, he would make you cum from his tongue anyway.

He pulled out and said to you, "Sit on my face." You raised an eyebrow in shock but didn't hesitate to get into the position. He now laid down on the bed and you held the headboard as you slowly go down so that his lips could meet your cum leaking pussy.

He groans loudly from the taste of his cum mixing with your juices. It tasted marvelous to him. His hands hold down your hips as his tongue goes wild onto your folds. Feasting like a starved man. He moans with each swirl of his tongue and whines with each suck of your clit. He was louder than you but you certainly felt more pleasure. Moaning him praises of being a good boy which made him even more ravenous.

His chin is covered in cum, saliva, and your cunt juices. The sight made you moan so loud, you begin grinding yourself against his tongue, wanting to cum as well. You didn't bother giving him a warning when you felt the familiar pleasure of an orgasm fill your veins. You knew he knew by it was near your breathless moans, your tensed thighs, and how desperate you were when you dragged your folds along his tongue, trying to get more stimulation on the clit.

His mouth wrapped itself around the small bud giving it a mean suck which was the end of you. You moan his name loud enough to get a future complaint as you cum on his face. Covering him with more of your juices and him lapping it up like a loyal dog.

You get yourself off his face. You try to catch your breath as you glance at Ethan. His eyes glossed over from the pleasure. He a mess. His forehead glistened with sweat.

You think to yourself, 'Such a pretty boy, you're never letting him go.'

I absolutely love the new header I made for him also the Cunnilingus part was not supposed to be there, especially the face riding lol, it just happened, it wasn't in the og plan for this fic fr

masterlist!

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explicit-tae · 1 year ago

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Ungodly Hour (1)

That time you - a broke college student - were willing to do just about anything for a hulu account after your brother kicks you off of his - (and Jungkook would do anything to have you).

Series Masterlist

Word count: 1.687

Warning: idk yall, i was bored, smut, college au, jungkook is thirsty, reader is somewhat slutty but with good reasons, dirty talking, swallowing, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, riding, cumming,

Your mouth wrapped around the tip of Jungkook’s cock, twirling the head in your mouth. You only slightly (maybe more than you want to admit) the way the salty pre-cum drips into your mouth as you suck. Even better were his moans - so soft and velvety; melodic.

if anyone was to blame it had to be your brother - he was the nuisance in your life. It was as if he intended on making your life a complete mess.

You were a good person, daughter and sister. You did what you had to do - attend classes everyday. You went to work and then home without a care. You worked at a grocery store part time and made enough to pay your half of the rent. Sure, with the price of groceries now you couldn’t be bothered to buy any. But that’s where your parents came in. You craved independence from them but only for privacy. You made sure you were there every night for dinner and sometimes if you had time, breakfast in the mornings.

Your brother was just upset that you accidentally bought an add-on on his hulu account - but how else were you supposed to watch what you wanted if he was too cheap to pay for anything further? It was bad enough you had to sit through 2 minute ads - it was the least he could do.

This is how you now found yourself sucking Jungkook off - the same man you had been dodging ever since the pair of you met. He gave off fuck boy vibes and the last thing you needed was that in your life - until you actually did need Jungkook. The irony.

Jungkook watches with hooded eyes at the beautiful sight of you. You had now grasped the length of his cock and began to pump him, focusing more on the tip of his head. He was glad the two of you were alone - seeing as you didn’t even have the decency to take him to your room and insisted on doing this on the couch. But Jungkook wasn’t a picky person - he prayed for times such as this. You were the play hard to get type and one thing he enjoyed was the chase.

Jungkook places a hand on the back of your head and thrusts lighty into your mouth, groaning as he does so. You allowed it. You laid your tongue flat, eyes flickering up to watch his expression. Satisfaction bubbled deep inside of you at the sight of his lust-filled expression. Dark hooded eyes, gasping lips.

“I waited, fuck…so long for this.” Jungkook groans, pumping inside of your mouth a little faster. His thumb caresses your cheek. “I told you that I’d have you one day, didn’t I?” he says smugly.

You groan a response, throat vibrating against his cock. That bastard, you thought. Jungkook did - he told you that one day your “play hard to get” act would crumble and when it did, he’d be there. But this couldn’t count - right? You were doing this for the greater good, after all. You had shows to watch and Jungkook just so happened to be the one that had a premium account.

You feel the tip of Jungkook’s cock tickling the back of your throat, testing to see how far you’d let him go. There’s a trail of saliva dripping from the corner of your lips and it drips slowly down your chin. Your mouth was heavy - wet and warm and inviting. You were determined to make him cum and he was determined to do just that.

Jungkook’s hand grips your hair - you moan at the sensation. He pumps just a little faster, your slurps and gagging hitting his ears and he moans at just how filthy you were for him.

“I’m about to cum.” Jungkook groans. His free hand wipes away a lone tear that releases from your eye. “You okay?” he asks, slowing his thrusts.

Your response was to bring him deeper into your mouth, blinking up at him. You slap his thigh harshly and that was all the permission he needed to fuck your throat. He shudders, feeling his toes curl. It didn’t help that your teary eyes watched his every move - and Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Even now while he took control, you remain just as stubborn; challenging him. “F-Fuck…” Jungkook grunts. “W-Where do I cum?”

Jungkook wants to slap himself, forgetting that you can’t exactly respond to him. But he’s unsure if cumming inside of your mouth would be too intimate - but then again, you could always spit it out and he would be fine with that.

You gag, feeling your throat swell with the warm, salty substance. You inhale through your nose and moan. “L-Let me find-” Jungkook watches as you swallow and lick your lips - he feels his cheeks redden and his heart thump.

You wipe your eyes of the pathetic tears and hum. “Don’t get big headed.” you hiss.

Jungkook smirks and bats his eyelashes. “Never.” he says. “I already made you a profile on my hulu account.”

You watch as Jungkook takes out his phone to show you the account and like state, he did make you your own profile. You snort at the name - stargirl. “I’ll text you the information to get into it.”

You place your hands onto his thighs. Your eyes lower to his cock - it wasn’t completely erect, but it wasn’t softening, either.

“I was told I would get peacock and hbo max.” you say to him. You didn’t want to tell him that you were wet and wanted to ride him, his head was already big enough.

“I have hbo max as an add on with hulu.” Jungkook responds, eyes darkening at the thought of feeling you.

“Hm. That’s too bad.” you tilt your head. “I wanted to ride you.”

“I can add disney.” Jungkook responds far too quickly, mentally cursing at how desperate he appeared.

Smirking, you nod your head. “Deal.”

Jungkook’s eyes are wide when you lift from your knees and kick off your shorts, panties flying with them. He’s erect once more at the sight of your slick trailing down your thighs. Your thighs trap him beneath you as you center yourself on him. “I’m not on any birth control.”

Jungkook gulps. His hands place themselves firmly on your hips. “I can pull out.” he nods. “Unless you want another streaming service as payment for me cumming inside of you.” he jokes - unless…

Jungkook smirks at you and you could only glare. You sit down on him completely and wipe the smirk from his lips. Your hands grip his shoulders as you begin to pound on him. It doesn’t take time for the entire sitting room is filled with your moans mixed with Jungkooks as well as skin slapping.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” Jungkook murmurs, inching closer to capture your lips with his own. You never said anything against kissing is his defense.

You deepen the kiss, grinding against him. “Says the man who hasn’t stopped moaning since we started.”

Jungkook chuckles and does just that. His hands trail from your hips, to your thighs and upwards towards your breast. He grips both of your clothed breasts into his palms. “Pussy feels so good, I can’t help myself.”

You swallow your own moan back. You can’t let him know his words turn you on - he would never let you live it down. It’s bad enough you were fucking him for streaming services.

You shifted yourself, your feet firmly against the couch. You looked into his eyes as you began to bounce on him once more, satisfied that the man below you was a moaning mess - and broke eye contact first. His eyes begin to roll at the new found pleasure.

You decided that you wouldn’t hide your own pleasure anymore. Jungkook was big and this position only meant that his cock was hitting the right spot each time.

“I know it feels good, baby.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality - and so does his thumb upon your clit. His thumb rubs hastily on it, enjoying the way your pussy tightens around his cock.

“It does.” Maybe you were growing weak - but only because it did feel good. That, and the way Jungkook’s voice grows deeper and more sultry as he speaks is an added turn on.

“What happened to the playing hard to get girl I know?” Jungkook’s now thrusting upwards inside of you to meet you halfway.

You clench around him. “Fuck you.” you murmur.

“I intend to.” Jungkook manages to laugh, his thumb leaving your clit to hook beneath your thighs. He continues where you left off, stamina unmatched. He pounds into you with such need - as if this was what he had been waiting for for who knows how long.

Your arms wrap around his neck and allow him the control - just this once. Jungkook’s reveling in your submission, murmuring dirty words in your ears as he fucks you. You were so wet - slick gripping out of you and onto his thighs - that he knew neither of you would last long.

You bite your lip when you feel Jungkook’s hands on your ass. He squeezes it with such need, moaning beautifully in your ears as his thrusts turn sloppy. “Where do I cum?” he asks suddenly.

“Anywhere.” was your response.

Jungkook took your lack of direction as a sign. His fingers lean down from your ass to find your clit once more. He toys with it as he thrusts, hellbent on making sure you cum right along with him. He wasn’t going to last - not with the way you were squeezing his cock right now.

“S-Shit!” you hiss, feeling yourself come undone right as Jungkook pulls out of you, cum leaking on your ass.

Jungkook leans against the couch and pants. There was no way he was going to leave you alone after this - but that’s okay because he knows you’ll close up once more and play that game you’ve been playing. Jungkook loved the chase and deep down, so do you.

Series Masterlist

#bts college au #college au #bangtanwritershq #bts smut #btsmasterlist2022 #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #fake tweets #explicit-tae #bangtanwriters net #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #jungkook college au #ungodly hour #jungkook friends with benefits #bts fwb

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marigoldenblooms · 8 months ago

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That's a Wrap - One Shot

Pairing: Director!Natasha x Fem!Actor!Reader x Actor!Wanda (MINORS DNI - 18+)

Summary: You and Wanda can’t seem to get this scene right. With your director’s help, you manage.

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tags: Is Y/N in the room with us right now (They aren’t), Dom!Natasha, Switch!Wanda, Bottom!Reader. Dub-con, power dynamic (Director/Actor), voyeurism, degradation, praise, semi-public sex, semi-orgasm denial, light edging, objectification, oral (W receiving), fingering (R receiving), strap-on use(R receiving), some pet names (baby, sweetheart, darling, ma’am, Tasha(For N), Wan/Wands(For W), Mommy(For W, used loosely)), Nat calls her strap her dick, semi-previous established relationship? Porn with plot, clothed sex, sextape, light aftercare, fluff at the end.

A/N: Welcome to the first issue of Smut Saturdays! Want to really create some good shit in this genre, so I'm posting at least one spicy fic every Saturday (if I can help it)! This came to me in a vision (called the five minutes before my math class)- After my last smut fic did well (An Important Lesson, Prof!Wanda x Reader, which you can read here), I thought I’d do some WandaNat practice! Not proofread, written in the span of an evening. This is a crime against intimacy coordinators, I’m so sorry. Asides over. Natasha wears a strap to her films and she can dick me down with it, please and thank you!

Word Count: 2.4k - Read Length: 8 minutes, 49 seconds.

~~~

It was never fun when the producers came by.

They’d always arrive in droves of two or three, never the top dog- as if Natasha’s ‘avant-garde chick flick’, as they called it, wasn’t worth their time. They certainly treated it as much. Today was the worst day for them to arrive, in pressed jackets and always on a phone call, because today you were filming the sex scene. It was more of a ‘romance’ scene, with alluring cinematography and enough passion to make your eyes fall out, yet you hadn’t even gotten to remove any clothes from your beautiful costar- Wanda. You knew she was incredible, her previous films as a fem fatale showing her dominant streak, however the spark couldn’t burn when interruptions from the suits kept happening. You weren’t on a porn set, and yet sometimes you wish you were. Might’ve been faster, or at least more fun.

“From the top,” A groveled voice muttered, Natasha’s steely gaze breaking into your skull- though a part of you wished she’d break your back. The redhead had always been an inspiration, one of the leading reasons for your participation in her project, besides her being so fine. But now, she looked pissed, worn down by hours of appeasing the producer’s half-baked suggestions and guarding you and Wanda from their prying eyes. “Yes Ma’am,” you replied, earning a slight chuckle from your director, the twinkle in her eye not lost on you- she was on her last legs, but it was yours and Wanda’s compliance that kept her going.

You’d return to your blocking, centered in the middle of your ‘apartment bedroom’, with Wanda’s hand placed gently on your waist. Your roles were lovers, reuniting after a long day of hardship, slowing down after it all. You’d stare up at her, the mild exasperation in your expression making her smile. She’d send a wink down to you, muttering something about being ‘bored too’, but ‘not hating kissing you again’, or the like. She’d invited you out to coffee tonight, and especially after a day like this, you’d take it. Perhaps you’d even forget the paparazzi and really kiss her as you’d been wanting to do this whole shoot. Throw a bone to the fanfiction writers and make their canon comply with reality. Maybe. It was Natasha’s words which startled you from your thoughts, a look of tenderness overcoming your face as you’d sink into your character, “Action!”

Within an instant, Wanda hiked her hands under the hem of your shirt, eyes darting down to your face. Her palms were warm against you, smooth against your soft skin, as your head rested gently on her shoulder. She’d tug at the fabric- and you’d send her a quick nod, smiling as you’d lean up to capture her lips in yours-

“Well that’s not very marketable!” A producer would crow, scoffing with both his hands outstretched towards the two of you. You’d freeze, feeling all of the passion drain out from the scene, no more than a shell of itself. His bald head wasn’t very marketable, looking like a morally dubious Mr. Clean- and yet you didn’t comment on it. He’d look at Natasha, the woman pinching the bridge of her nose with a stern sigh, and you gulped. Oh, shit. She was going to lose it. “Can’t you get their clothes off faster? Our focus groups won’t wait around for-”

“Fucking Christ, get- out!” Natasha shouted, a growl in her tone bringing heat to your face. She scowled, roaring to the surrounding suits, “Leave, get off my set- it’s my fucking turn to direct them.” Her hands would fan away their deer-in-headlights looks, ushering them out before locking the door. Her fiery gaze would bore into you then, jaw locked as her heels would click towards you and Wanda, many feet apart.

The two shared a knowing nod- And before you could speak, your director grabbed Wanda by her shirt collar and pulled her into a bruising kiss. Your jaw would drop as the brunette’s eyes widened, fluttering shut as Wanda moaned into the embrace- Natasha’s hands planted firmly on her tits. She’d squeeze them, earning a gasp from Wanda, your costar’s head swung back as Natasha swiped her thumbs across her nipples. Your director’s gaze would strike yours, and you understood why Wanda’s submission was so quick. You shuddered at the redhead’s gleaming smirk, her voice a husked whisper, “Get those clothes off and get on the bed for me, baby. Now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Your reply was instant, Natasha’s grin only widening as you’d shed your layers, kneeling on the mattress’s soft sheets. They were cold, goosebumps settling up your spine yet you wouldn’t move, eyes trained obediently on Natasha. You were so perfect for her.

Natasha’s mouth would return to Wanda’s, pressing her into the faux wall that had outlined the bedroom. Her hand would splay against Wanda’s stomach, and you saw how she hiked up the shirt there, continuing to palm her tits while unclasping Wanda’s bra with the other. She’d pepper kisses across the brunette’s neck, sucking hickeys the lower she’d go.

They’d part only so Wanda’s top could come completely off, your director keeping a claiming touch on Wanda’s hip as she’d look back at you over her shoulder. Her hair was wild, mused from Wanda’s hands slung loosely around her shoulders while her expression remained flushed, dark eyes darting down to the slick that pooled between your legs. Wanda’s voice would ring to you, almost reverent as her hips would stutter against Natasha’s, “She’s fucking drooling for us, Tasha..”

The redhead would bite back a smirk as she’d watch you twitch. You ached to touch them, yourself, anything- your hands already balled into fists on your thighs, legs rubbing together, desperate for friction. But neither had given the command, and you had an inkling from their hungry looks that they wanted you needy, right where they had you. Natasha’s rasp came second, “Then show her what I taught you.”

Wanda would reach you first, discarding the rest of her clothes in the process. Her hands trailed warm touches up your legs and to your chest, digging into your soft flesh as her lips would meet yours. It was explosive, sweet and tender yet with a ferocity that claimed you quickly, heating up your skin as her knee would slot between your thighs. You’d feel Natasha’s calloused fingers on the small of your back, the sinking of her weight in the mattress behind you, and her tone husked in your ear, “Stretch her out for me, Wan- like we practiced.” Your director’s words sent a buzz to your core, cunt grinding mercilessly into the sheets below as Wanda’s hand would trail there, dragging two fingers along your folds before arcing dazzling circles around your clit.

You’d eagerly press your hips into her touch, moaning lowly as she’d chuckle, “So wet for me, sweetheart…bet I can just slip right in.” She’d coax her fingers inside, your pussy walls taking her gladly as Wanda curled her digits against that spongy spot. Your back would arch, head growing fuzzy as you’d feel your slick drip down her hand. Her thumb would press into your clit as you’d buck your hips against her, cursing a quick “Fuck-” which was quickly swallowed up by Wanda’s mouth. She’d bite your lip, dragging it with her teeth as she’d settle into her rhythm, spare hand palming your tits with a rougher grasp, “Been waiting for this, haven’t you sweetheart- pretty whore, just for us.”

“Mhm, good girl just wants to be fucked, don’t you?” Natasha would grit, and you could see her stroking something behind your back. She’d unzipped her slacks- her strap heavy in her hand, glistening with the spit she’d gathered in her palm. Natasha bucked her hips against her hold, cursing as the cock’s base would rub against her clit. She looked incredible, sweat across her brow as her hand would clench around the toy, like she could feel it. “Keep going, Wands- want her perfect for my dick.”

Natasha would pant, breathing ragged as her hand moved in time with Wanda’s fingers- curling into you almost torturously, feeling your cunt clench around her. The brunette’s kiss would claim you again, moaning into her warmth as her thumb would circle your clit. She’d sigh almost lovingly, fondness overtaking her expression as your head found the crook of her neck, “She’s already perfect, Tasha-” She’d coo, although her hand wouldn’t stop, gasping at the squelching sound of her fingers up your cunt, “This pussy was made for us, darling.”

Their words and touch brought you so close, yet Wanda’s hands slowed down when she felt your legs quiver or your breathing seize up, never giving you what you needed. You’d squirm against Wanda, begging for more, a lingering touch, anything- “Please, Wan- I‘m so close,” You whined, earning a tut from your costar. She’d devour your pleas, lost to time as her mouth would reach yours, softer than before. You felt her sympathetic smile against you as she’d shake her head, locking eyes with Natasha’s heavy stare, “Not yet, sweetheart..It’s not my turn anymore.”

The redhead groaned when Wanda slid her fingers out of you, her fingers shimmering with your arousal. Your walls fluttered around nothing, aching for anyone’s touch as you felt Natasha’s rugged grasp on your hips, pulling you up and back so your pelvis was against hers. The strap had warmed in her hand, dragging between your legs. You were dripping for her, soft sparks of pleasure seizing you as her tip would brush against your clit. Her voice would thunder through you, almost delirious with her own need, “Fucking finally..want this pussy all to myself…”

Wanda would chuckle at that, your director kneading at your hips as Wanda’s thighs settled in front of your mouth, your arms propping yourself just above her soaked cunt. “We promised to share, Tasha..” She’d croon, face flushed and touch softer than Natasha’s as she’d cradle your face in her palms, “Such a pretty girl..are you ready for your reward, darling?” You nodded, a flurry of sensation hitting you all at once- Natasha’s strap sinking into you as the redhead would push your shoulder blades down, pressing your face between Wanda’s legs.

The stretch was incredible, the woman behind you vicious as she’d drive her dick into you, bottoming out as your mouth would be smothered against Wanda’s cunt. Each thrust would drive Wanda crazy, your gasps and whimpers vibrating right into her core, especially as you’d flat your tongue against her clit, suckling on the sensitive nub. Her thighs would threaten to shut on you, her stretched words lost in your pussydrunk haze, “Yes, like that sweetheart- such a good girl..-” Natasha would rock her hips into yours, pace bruising as she’d pull your thighs flush to hers. You’d hear her muffled curses as she’d bottom out again, sighing as if she could feel you clench around her. “Baby..fuck, so perfect for us…” Wanda’s hands would thread into your hair, anchoring her hold on you as she’d press your face further into her cunt.

The sight would echo a curse from Natasha’s mouth, her hips growing a little more erratic, “Fucking christ, she’s our perfect little whore, aren’t you baby-” You’d try to nod, moaning as Natasha’s hand would press further into your back, keeping you from moving an inch, “Don’t even think, baby- just fucking take it, fuck-”

Time would seem to slow, your brain fuzzing into blissful static as you’d feel Wanda’s thighs tremor around your head, her grip tightening as she’d see your body tremble in Natasha’s touch. “Come with me, sweetheart- be a good girl and come for Mommy.” Her saccharine words spurred you into a blinding release, your tongue working Wanda through her orgasm as your body quaked with your own. You’d feel Natasha follow shortly thereafter, cursing aloud as she’d pull herself out of you, watching as you’d clench around nothing. Her hands would immediately find your waist, bringing you gently up to kneel with your back against her clothed front.

Panting, your arms would shake as you’d catch your breath, leaning up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You could feel both women’s eyes on you as you’d suckle on your fingers, cleaning up with an exaggerated moan, looking towards Wanda as you’d pop your hand out of your mouth, your words almost dreamy, “Mmm, so good, Wan..” You’d giggle as Wanda’s face would alight in blush, although the clink of metal and fabric drove you away from your teasing.

Natasha’s hands would be rushed as she’d pull her pants and harness down, eyes heavy with a lust that made you shudder, “Switch with me, Wands-” She’d grit, thrusting the strap in her general direction before settling calloused palms on your still quivering thighs, her gaze boring into yours, “It’s my turn for her mouth.”

Wanda’s smirk was immediate, sending you another sly wink, “Gladly.”

------------------------------------------

Unbeknownst to the three of you, the cameras had never stopped rolling. That film would never be seen by the public, kept hidden once you left the building. Not to say it couldn't be enjoyed by you three, though.

Natasha and Wanda took you out to coffee afterwards as the brunette had promised. They explained their prior agreement to ‘test the waters’ with you, Wanda working with Natasha on a plan to woo you both in and out of character. The date went well, although with much less lingering glances and more almost-fucking in the back of Wanda’s car afterwards. It was there that the public and paparazzi learned of your relationship, although their camera flash thankfully stopped any romance before it got good. You weren’t on a porn set, after all- and Wanda kept your half-nude form hidden while Natasha cursed out the press. All in a day’s work.

Unfortunately, the day’s work began anew the next day. Filming the romance scene was no difficult measure now, but Natasha’s grin and Wanda’s wandering hands blurred the lines of professionalism. The film crew couldn’t care less, a few of them- such as Kate, a script supervisor- mentioned how they knew it would happen eventually (and won a bet with Peter, who said it’d take until the award show for you three to get together).

However, once you three escaped into Natasha’s office for some ‘paperwork’ as she’d called it, it didn’t matter. They were yours, and that was enough. ~~~

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arieslost · 7 months ago

Text

talk | op81

summary: oscar loves to talk your ear off.

word count: 1,276

masterlist — join my tag list here!

everyone who had told you that oscar piastri wasn’t much of a talker was a bold-faced liar.

that, or maybe they just never got to see that side of him.

before you started dating oscar, you totally believed it. the first few interactions the two of you had were awkward and brief, usually ending in you thinking that he actually hated you and only engaged in small talk to be nice.

the oscar you know now is nothing like the oscar you first met, and even though you’ve been with him for the better part of two years, his ability to talk for hours is still as shocking to you as it was in the beginning.

it started out innocently enough. the first time you hadn’t been able to attend a race, oscar called you the moment he was back in his hotel room. you’d only been dating for five months at that point, and you vividly remember your shock when you accepted the facetime call and he started talking at a mile a minute. you’d barely gotten out a “hello” before he started recapping his entire day in precise detail. he didn’t even stop to take a drink of water in his enthusiasm.

that turned into the two of you developing a routine. every time you couldn’t make it to a race, oscar would call you at the end of the day and tell you everything he’d been dying to tell you.

“you could text me some of this stuff, you know,” you told him once, and he had wrinkled his nose cutely.

“why would i text it to you when i can just tell you about it on the phone?” he’d responded, like your suggestion was completely outlandish.

it’s endearing, really, the way he’s always so excited every time you pick up the phone. like he is right now.

“hi, honey!” he says brightly the moment the call connects and you can see each other’s faces.

“hey, oz,” you smile, your mood immediately lifting at the sound of his voice. “how was your day?”

“oh, i have so much to tell you,” he leans forward, his hair obscuring the camera for a moment before he leans back with a piece of paper in his hand.

“what is that?” you ask, watching as he unfolds it.

“this, my love, is my list.” he says, turning it around so you can see the way the page is full of his writing, not only on the lines but in the margins, too. “if i can read my own handwriting.”

“busy day?” you pull the hood of your sweatshirt further over your head so it covers more of your screen.

“you have no idea. i don’t even know where to start.” he sighs, eyes scanning the paper before he looks back up at the camera. “but i want to hear about your day first.”

“ah, it was okay. boring. i got so used to traveling around with you that i don’t know what to do now that i’m home all by myself.” it’s a lie, of course.

you wouldn’t miss oscar’s birthday for the world, and that was why you’d been so believable when you told him that you were so sorry, but you couldn’t make it to japan for the next race. even thinking about not being with him for his birthday was enough to upset you, so he bought it easily. conspiring with mark and lando, you’d gotten your hands on a plane ticket and formed a plan to get to the hotel with oscar being none the wiser.

which is how you’re here, at the end of the hallway on his hotel floor, waiting for the perfect time to interject.

“oh, i have to tell you about how free practice went, the second session, not the first,” he’s saying, squinting a little at the paper. “i wrote it over something else and i can’t see what it says. whatever. anyway, it’s raining here, and, like, half the cars didn’t end up going out for the second session. i was just trying to do my best for the session but i ended up setting the fastest lap! i didn’t even know until i got out of the car. did you watch? i don’t know if you did, i forgot to ask you, but i think it was a 1:34 or something like that. i could’ve been faster, obviously, but it was raining. its still raining right now actually which kind of sucks. i wouldn’t mind if you were here, but it’s just miserable and cold.” he pauses to take a breath. “wait, where are you?”

well that you weren’t expecting. “at home… where else would i be?” you reply, hoping that your confusion looks genuine.

“your background looks… i dunno.” he presses his lips together. “doesn’t look the same.”

“well, i’m at home,” you repeat, trying to come up with something on the fly. “pretending that i’m talking to you face to face instead of through the phone, like always.”

“ah, yeah. i do that all the time,” he admits, giving up on his scrutinization of what little he can see behind your hood.

“i miss you,” he says then, and its absolute hell knowing you can’t knock on his door just yet.

“i miss you too, oz.” you whisper. “keep telling me about your day?”

“sure, honey.” he gives you a soft smile, once again consulting his piece of paper. “so after the second session, i went and got dinner— oh wait, i forgot to tell you what happened earlier! i left the hotel room—”

you were hoping to let him tire himself out a bit from talking so much before approaching the door, but with every little detail of his day he shares you wish more and more that he was saying it directly to you and not through the phone, so you give up on being patient and knock three times.

“hold on, baby. someone’s at the door.” he says on the other end of the call, getting up from where he’s sitting on the bed and leaving his phone behind, so you end the call to free both of your hands.

the look on his face when he opens the door is priceless. “you’re joking.”

“i figured you should tell me the rest in person,” you say. “besides, i’d be damned if i missed your birthday.”

“you’re joking,” he repeats, pulling you and your suitcase into the room and wrapping you into a tight hug. “you’re actually here.”

“of course i’m here.” you laugh, kissing his shoulder through the loose material of his worn out t-shirt. “i don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”

“i’m so happy,” is all your enthusiastic, talkative boyfriend says before kissing you, smiling against your lips the whole time.

“you hung up on me?” its the first thing he says once the two of you are cuddled up in bed, and your jaw drops.

“seriously? i’m right here, and you’re gonna come for me for hanging up on you?”

“i would never hang up on you, but whatever,” he rolls his eyes, but cuddles you closer all the same. “okay, you have to know what lando told me last night about this one thing he did over winter break. it doesn’t sound bad at first, but i promise you it gets so much worse.”

you sigh in content, happier than anything to be in oscar’s arms and listening to him talk your ear off for the foreseeable future. you would never lie about it— you don’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.

note: happy oscar dayyy!! wishing my fellow aries the best birthday ever and i hope you all enjoyed this 🫶🏼 i low key hate it but hopefully that’s just me lolz

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @lightsoutletsgo

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meltingmidas · 7 months ago

Text

Coachella Rut

Paring: Idol!Hongjoong x Non Idol!Reader

CW: DomJoong/SubReader, Joongie is aggressive :))), pinv, unprotected sex (don’t do this plz this is not sexy!), creampie, mentions of marks and bruises, degradation, pls lmk if i missed anything!

WC: 920

Midas's Notes: So I literally started this right after watching the Coachella stream.. holy shit. Joong really did something to me and idk if I’ll ever be the same. Is there possibly a Mingi one in the works? Maybe. Uhhh this is NOT edited cause I’m too tired and this is just raw horniness so please enjoy (and excuse) this messy fic! PS also didn’t have a fuckin clue what to name it so enjoy the random title <3

🔞 Below 🔞

“Fuck Joong, slow doowwwn- ugh please!” You whimpered as he roughly pounded into your abused pussy, your legs over his shoulders, his arms beside your head. He’s been at it for nearly 2 hours now, rejecting your every single orgasm, giving you no time to rest. Your neck is littered in bruises, cheeks red from his previous slaps, eyeliner dragged down to your jaw. He’s always like this after a concert; but for some reason Coachella has him in a rut.

He’s aggressive, raw, and borderline psychotic. A wild smile plastered on his face, the shitty red dye running down his face over his eyes and around his cheeks, down to his chin and neck. He locks eyes with you as he brings his hand up to roughly hold your jaw, your cheeks uncomfortably squishing together. “You are fucking mine, got it? Your heart, your soul, your thoughts, your pretty pussy, everything. You belong to me. Yeah?”He whispers out, inches away from your face, he’s movements never faulting. You nod, and mewl out a small “Yes sir” before he gives the corner of your lips a small kiss and returning to the side of your head, giving light nips to your neck. Hongjoong looks straight out of a horror movie; and it’s fucking sexy.

You’re dragged out of your thoughts by a particular hard thrust, kissing your velvety sweet spot inside you, making you sing his name like it was a prayer. “You look so fucking good underneath me. All fucked up on my cock, yeah? You can’t get enough of me, can you?” He grunts out, his voice course from the previous show he put on. You nod eagerly, your nails scratching at his shoulders, bound to leave your mark all over him. “Yeaah that’s right slut. Tell me how good I am.” You moan loudly at his request, surely others would hear (not that you cared), starting to attempt to form a sentence. “Cock feels to-fuck feels too good Joong. Need you to fuck me harder. Please!”.

He chuckles deeply, heavy into your ear, soft grunts and pants leaving his lips. “You feel so fucking good, you were made for me, whore.” You scream out his name as he starts fucking you faster; harder than he’s ever gone before. You whine and whimper, begging for your release, “Please Joong- pleasepleaseplease fill me up sir, I need it so bad. Need your cum inside me so bad.” Hongjoong moans loudly in your ear, his breath fanning against the shell. He lifts up to look at you, the fully sits up, your lower half now slightly lifted up off the bed thanks to your legs still over his shoulders. He gives you a wild smirk, eyes dark and full of love and lust. His hands find the plush spot of your hips, nails digging his shape into it. You whine, tears spilling out as you keep your babbling pleas for his seed. “Fuck- such a good girl, asking so politely for my cum.” One hand moves from your hips and finds your clit, your eyes shoot open and a drawn out moan leaves your lips, a new spark shoots up your spine and your release edging closer and closer.

He grunts, his thrust growing sloppier and harder, you can feel him twitch inside you as he gets closer. “Gonna make you mine sweetheart. All mine- fuck.” He peers down at you, a smile and his signature laugh, “Cum for me, doll.” That was all you needed as you find yourself twitching, hips bucking up into his, you feel your walls convulsing around his, feeling your sweet slick run down to your ass. He moans, voice scratching as a string of “shit” leaves him, as you feel hot ropes of cum fill you up. You whine, feeling so full of him and his milky cum. “So so good. Fuck you’re mine. Mine all mine..” he whispers out, more to himself, as he pushes his final spurts of cum inside you.

You look at him through your wet lashes, admiring the scene of his sweat drenching him, basking in his post sex glow. He catches your eyes, a soft smile leaving his lips as he leans down to meet yours. Hongjoong gives you a soft, gentle kiss, completely different to the ones you received earlier. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t do too much did I?” He asks, slowly pulling out of you, a mix of both your cum oozing outside of your puffy pussy. You shake your head, “No, not at all Joongie. But holy shit, I don’t think I can get up after all… that.” You laugh, and you hear him quietly joins you. “Here.” You look over to find him handing you a glass of water (that he already prepped beforehand, what a gentleman), and a towel in his hand beside you. You gladly take it, shaking as you hastily take a sip. You feel him gently lift one of your legs, softly patting and wiping you off. “I’ll start you a bath, and we can take one together. Or would you rather eat first? Which sounds good?” He quietly asks you, throwing the towel to a dirty clothes hamper and grabs your hand to give it a kiss. You giggle, “Bath, then food, please.” He nods, slowly rubbing your knuckles in his hands. “Sounds good sweetheart.” He gets up to start your bath, you sit up, sipping your water and wondering if you should get chicken or a burger.

#Ateez #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #kpop #kpop smut #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader

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atlabeth · 7 months ago

Text

too sweet

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.

a/n: me??? writing for criminal minds again out of nowhere??? what is going on. and i do not have an answer i was just in a hotch mood bc he's fine asf and i finally have the confidence to write for him here we are lol. hope u enjoy this short lil thing

wc: 2.4k

warning(s): alcohol consumption, a sexual joke or two, written in one go so might be a mess! aaron is all in his head but this is basically all fluff

Hotch can’t focus.

Mostly because he can’t stop glancing over at you. Normally it’s not a problem—he’d lost count of how many times he’d distracted himself from mounds of paperwork by meeting your eyes through his office window, often accompanied by a smile that made even his heart beat a little faster—and especially now, it shouldn’t be a problem.

You and Derek have had some kind of bet going on during the past few nights out—you didn’t believe he was as charming and suave as he claimed, and Morgan was all too happy to prove you wrong.

You bet that he couldn’t get at least five numbers every night, and come last Thursday, Morgan took the win at the end of the evening with a smile on his face. As punishment, the first round of their next night out was on you.

And that’s nice, sure. Hotch is always thankful that his team can still joke around and have fun with each other despite everything they have to deal with each day. He hopes they keep the light in their eyes as long as possible, especially the younger ones. He’s fine with being the stick in the mud, the one who never smiles, the iron willed chief that scares local uniforms.

Hotch is not so fine with the way he feels right now.

It’s a busy night at the bar, which is understandable. Hotch is sure half the precinct is out alongside them, celebrating the BAU finally solving the case that had torn them to shreds over the past week. You, Reid, and Garcia put the threads together an hour into scouring through evidence, and the unsub was cuffed before noon.

Certainly something to celebrate—there’s a reason the whole team agreed to go out tonight and leave tomorrow. Even Rossi decided to join when he learned you would be buying, but he’s already abandoned them in favor of catching up with some old friends. Hotch even thinks they might have another round in their future because of their solve, courtesy of the local chief. They had a long night ahead of them.

But you haven’t gotten the drinks yet, and Hotch wonders how long it’ll take even after you do. Because some officer is trying to talk you up, and you’re smiling and laughing along and giving him every bit of your attention.

Hotch recognized him the moment he set eyes upon him, even in plain clothes. He’s some joke of an officer from the station, and he’s been trying to get your number—or even just get your attention—throughout their whole visit. Always sidling up to you during debriefs, specifically giving you any information or evidence he finds—Hotch has overheard him asking for your number more than once.

Hotch has been so focused on the case he’s not even sure if you’ve rejected him or not, and the mere thought is enough to annoy him. If he wasn’t equally as sure of your ability to defend yourself and afraid of overstepping with you, he would have stepped in.

But it makes sense. The officer is young and handsome, you’re young and pretty—not to mention you have a way of lighting up any room you step into. Hotch spent the whole first month of your employment wondering why you would want to do a job like this. He’s spent the rest of it thankful that you did.

You’re sharp as a whip, naturally, but you’ve also done wonders for the team atmosphere. It’s hard to feel down with a smile like yours beaming his way. The job weighs you down like it does everyone, but you still manage to lift everyone’s spirits on the jet ride back before they jump into the next case. It’s impressive.

It’s also trouble. You’ve been part of the BAU for almost two years now, and Hotch has spent just as much time tearing his eyes away from you as he has working. It’s wrong, and it’s wholly inappropriate in terms of your working relationship—he’s your boss, for god’s sake.

But sometimes, Hotch will be beating himself up over one thing or another on a case, and you’ll plant yourself in his vicinity and refuse to leave until you’ve helped him work through it. If you ever tire of the FBI, he thinks you have a second calling as an elementary school teacher.

Sometimes the hotel they’re staying at will have truly shitty coffee, worse than they’re used to at the BAU, and you’ll already be in the lobby with a tray full of the team’s orders. Hotch never recalls telling you his order—you just figured it out, and you remembered it.

Sometimes his gaze will drift your way, and he’ll find you already staring at him. You look away just as quickly as he does, and it makes him wonder.

Hotch has made a living off of studying the behavior of others. More often than not, he finds himself profiling his co-workers just out of instinct. His job is to know what others are thinking.

But god. When it comes to you, Hotch doesn’t think he’s ever felt more unsure in his life. Especially when you look at him the same way he wants to for weeks, then act nothing but proper another day; when you fall asleep against his shoulder on the jet one night and entertain some desk jockey another night.

It makes him feel like a highschooler again, trying to figure out if Haley really liked him or if she was just playing around, and it’s more embarrassing than it should be. Especially when he’s still dealing with the lingering emotions from the divorce.

“Hotch.” JJ’s voice is enough to break him out of his trance, and he blinks as he turns to her. At least someone paid him the mercy to dispel his thoughts, even if only for a temporary time.

“What?”

“Did you hear a single word I said?” she asks, a slight smile curving on her lips.

“Of course,” he responds. “The chief’s over there talking with the commissioner. He’s the same guy who made your life difficult the last time we were in Milwaukee.”

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up, and she nods. “I didn’t think you were listening.”

“I think he just got lucky,” Morgan cuts in, his gaze darting over to you momentarily. “I think you were too focused on our drinks.”

Reid frowns. “I don’t think he was focused on the drinks. He’s—”

“Just making sure they’re still coming,” Hotch interrupts, and he straightens his tie. Today really has been a long one—usually, he’s better at covering these things up. “And I wasn’t lucky. I was listening.”

“Trust me,” Morgan says with a laugh, “I’m watchin’ her until I’ve got a glass in my hand. She’s not getting out of this after the way she bragged this whole month.”

“The stupidest thing to make a bet on,” Prentiss remarks, “especially with you.”

“She said she just wanted to prove you wrong,” Reid contributes. “She thinks you’re too cocky.”

Morgan grins. “It’s not cocky if you can back it up.”

Hotch’s attention goes back to you, and you’ve finally gotten their drinks. You’re loading them onto a tray like you’re the bartender yourself, and his brows crease. Maybe he should have gone up with you.

“Do you think she needs help?” he asks. How obvious is too obvious? Why does it feel like his brain only works at half power whenever it comes to you?

“She’ll be fine,” Prentiss says. “And if she needs it, that guy talking her up can help.”

“Jason Rodriguez,” Reid remarks. “He hung around her the whole time we were trying to pinpoint a location, and he wasn’t any help, which makes sense because he's practically desk-bound at the precinct. I’m surprised she got any work done.”

JJ chuckles. “I’m surprised he hasn’t given up yet. He’s been following her around all week, like some lost puppy.”

Morgan shrugs. “I dunno. She seems pretty into him.”

“I don’t think ex-frat boys are her type,” Prentiss says wryly. Hotch doesn’t think so either, but he doesn’t say anything. Contributing to this kind of conversation is certainly too obvious.

“I doubt we’ll be back here for a while. She might as well.” Morgan smiled. “She probably needs a win after such an embarrassing loss.”

Thankfully, before Hotch has to keep pretending not to care about this topic, you walk over carrying a tray of cocktails—and you’re alone. The subject of their previous conversation seems lost in the crowd, and he feels a dangerous amount of relief.

“Are you all talking about me?” you drawl.

“You know we are, sweetheart. Thought you were never gonna get here.” Morgan sits up, smiling at you. “What’d my win get us?”

“Long Island Iced Teas,” you muse as you set the tray down. “Enjoy it, because I’m gonna be working some overtime to make up for all these.”

Morgan grins as he takes his drink. “You should’ve never doubted my skills.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t need any help,” Prentiss says. “You’ve done this before, huh?”

“Bartended my way through college.” You slide into the booth next to Hotch, just a bit too close for a bit too long, and he hopes that no one can see his chest still for a moment. It’s impressive that he still hasn’t figured out how to lessen the effect you have on him. “I’ve probably got better hands than you, Morgan.”

“Do we need to make another bet?” he asks. “Because I’d love to clean out your wallet.”

“Maybe wait another month before you prey on any more poor, defenseless agents,” you croon, and Morgan laughs.

He pivots the conversation away from you when you pick up your drink and take a sip, and you look at Hotch. Whenever your gaze is on him, you make him feel like he’s the only person in the room. He’s sure you never look at anyone else that way, but Hotch wonders how much of that is his mind trying to justify his imagination.

“I’m surprised you agreed with this,” you say, mercifully interrupting his thoughts. “I thought you’d want us to go back tonight.”

“You all earned a night out after the work you did,” Hotch says. He thinks about taking a drink, but he decides against it, at least for now. He can barely trust his sober mind.

“You’ve earned it too,” you say. “We wouldn’t be anywhere without you, Hotch. You keep us all together.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever would’ve connected the dots like you and Reid can with Garcia. I hate unsubs with secret codes.”

“I’ve always liked puzzles,” you muse. “There’s nothin’ like it when it all finally clicks.”

Hotch hums, and for a moment, he’s silent. Your gaze remains fully on him, and that might be why he has trouble thinking. It’s too easy to get lost in your eyes.

“What did that guy say?” Hotch finally manages to ask, because he honestly can’t help it. Morgan’s points actually worried him a bit, and he wonders what that says about him. Ex-frat boy certainly isn’t your type, but someone forgettable for a one night stand isn’t the most absurd thing in the world.

Your brows knit together as you drink some more. “What guy?”

“The officer you were talking with,” he says. “He seemed to like you.”

He’d been flirting with you since the moment you stepped into the precinct, actually, desperate for your attention, but Hotch didn’t really want to say that. He’s sure you noticed either way, if the rest of the team did.

“Oh. Him.” You shrug. “He’s nice, I guess. Definitely a looker. But he’s got nothing beneath that hair.”

“Morgan’s surprised you didn’t bring him back,” Hotch says. He wonders if he’s pushing too much, and again, he feels like a highschooler testing the waters. Do you know what you do to him? What you reduce him to?

You shrug as you take a sip. “If he knows what’s good for him, he knows he doesn’t have a chance. My attention’s on someone else.”

Prentiss calls your name and you get drawn back into the middle of the team’s conversation, and thankfully, Hotch has a chance to digest your words—and the stunner of a smile you flash at him before you get pulled into their talk.

His decision to not drink seems even wiser, now. Hotch has to loosen his tie, and he ignores Reid watching him. It’s futile trying to hide anything from Spencer Reid—the kid already knows everything.

Again, it's dangerous how much satisfaction he gets from it—from knowing you never really paid that officer a second thought. You didn’t smile at him the way you smile at Hotch. You don’t smile at anyone the way you smile at Hotch. He thought he was imagining it at first, or that he was just a bit too stuck up, but it was the honest truth. You paid him special attention, and he couldn’t blame the warmth in his chest from the thought on any alcohol.

He tunes back into the conversation just to hear Morgan demand you pay for his next drink.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you say.

He puts a hand to his chest. “Generous? You’re just paying what you owe me.”

You laugh and shake your head. “Pick your poison, pretty boy.”

“How do you feel about tequila?”

You make a noise of disgust and shake your head. “As long as I don’t have to drink it.”

“You’re just paying, sweetheart.” Morgan’s eyes dart to Hotch, and he nods as he grins. “One for me and our fearless leader.”

Hotch shakes his head. “Someone has to get us back to the hotel.”

“That’s what cabs are for!” Prentiss exclaims. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Hotchner. You deserve to let a little loose.”

“It takes most people an hour to process a drink,” Reid contributes, “so you’ll be fine before we leave if you want to drive.”

“Come on, Hotch,” you say, and you nudge his shoulder. “You might as well—I’m paying.”

“...Fine,” he says, and the whole team cheers. Even Reid smiles.

“Y’know, you can smile tonight, Hotch,” you say with one of your own before you down the rest of your drink and stand up.

And one actually tugs at his lips. It feels a lot hotter in this bar with your eyes sparkling and you beaming right at him, and he fights the need to shed his jacket. Your grin somehow grows.

“That’s what I came out to see,” you remark as you pick your wallet back up from the table. “I expect another when I get back, Hotch. There’s a lot to celebrate tonight.”

Yeah, he thinks as he watches you go. There just might be.

#me ignoring all my wips for a hot man?? it's more likely than you think #also ive listened to too sweet on repeat for like 3 hours i dont want to take my whiskey neat anymore #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagine #sadie writes

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dilemmaontwolegs · 8 months ago

Text

Life is like a Box of Chocolates || LandOscar

Summary: When you take an edible chocolate with your boyfriends it has an unexpected side effect. Warnings: 18+ only, edibles, smut, oral (both), mmf. WC: 2. 3k

The box looked inconspicuous enough.

Oscar turned the packaging over and read through the ingredients while you and Lando opened three individually wrapped treats. They looked like any other boutique chocolate you had tried but this one promised more than a sugar high.

“Bottoms up,” Lando said with a grin.

You tapped your square of chocolate against his with a reciprocal smile. “I hope so.”

You both bit into the treats and moaned at the decadent richness that coated your tongue. You couldn’t even taste the drug that would absorb slowly into your system, leaving you with a long lasting high that would surely make the boring dinner party better.

“Oh my god, that was so good!” you hummed as you licked your fingers clean and found Lando had finished his too.

Oscar chuckled as he saw a spot of chocolate in the corner of Lando’s lips and kissed it clean before grabbing his own piece. “We normally take half.”

“You’ve never been to this event before, trust me, you’ll need a whole one,” Lando assured him, taking the chocolate and guiding it to Oscar’s parted lips himself.

Your body started to heat in response to the small sounds Oscar made as Lando fed him. “Why are you two teasing me? You know we don’t have time to play before the car gets here.”

Reluctantly, Oscar pulled away and swallowed his mouthful before returning to pack up the box. He opened the box again and put the few remaining wrappers back in, before noticing the instruction booklet under the tray. “Uh, guys, I don’t think this was weed,” he mutters.

“What do you mean?” Lando said with a laugh. “This is the box Daniel said to get.”

“Wait, Danny?” You hoped you hadn’t heard correctly. “The same Danny who has been trying to get back at you for the prank in Vegas?”

Lando laughed and shook his head, but realisation seemed to slowly dawn on his face and he snatched the box out of Oscar’s hands. His eyes scanned across the page of tiny disclaimers until it fluttered with his shaking hands.

“What did you give us, Lando?” you asked as you looked between both of your boyfriends. “Osc?”

“Okay, so, don’t panic,” Oscar’s words immediately made your heart start pumping faster and he pulled you into his arms to draw soothing circles over your back. “It’s fine, baby. You might just feel a little…”

“What?”

“Horny,” Lando answered for him before he couldn’t suppress his laugh any longer. “I’m going to get him for this.”

“You don’t sound very worried,” you said to Lando before looking at Oscar. Obviously, he was never one to worry so he just shrugged.

“I’ll take care of you if you need it,” he promised.

—

“I can’t tell if this is the chocolate or me,” you grumbled as you sat between your boyfriends in the backseat of the car. Your hands gripped their thighs in an effort to keep them from roaming any higher, but it was a losing battle.

“That’s just you, baby, it said it could take an hour to kick in,” Lando said, fiddling with his tie again. “Why do these have to be so tight?”

“He says it like he didn’t asked to be choked last night,” Oscar chuckled, reaching over your shoulder to tuck the tie back under his collar. “Now relax.”

“That was the plan,” Lando said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m going to fucking kill Danny.”

“Worry about that later, we’re here.”

You accepted Oscar’s hand and stepped out after him to the flash of cameras. It was hard not to feel inadequate when you were standing beside two of the most handsome men you had ever met, but when they curled their arms around your waist and whispered sweet words the worry fell away.

“You look so beautiful, darling,” Lando said softly as he brushed his lips over your cheek. “I’m having a hard time keeping this PG-13.”

Oscar caught his finger under Lando’s chin and turned his hungry eyes away from you. “Stop looking at each other like that, you’re not the only one having a hard time,” he groaned. You couldn’t help glancing down his body but the black suit pants hid the ‘hard time’ he was growing in them. “Stop looking at me like that,” he warned.

“I can’t help that I am infatuated with you two,” you said innocently, a sweet smile drawing his attention to your kissable lips. “Tsk, tsk, stop looking at me like that, Osc. Have some self control.”

Lando laughed and led you away from Osc as he tipped his head back with a silent prayer to survive the evening with his brats. When he had his composure back, he scanned the area for you but in those short seconds you and Lando had disappeared into the busy venue. “Fuck,” he groaned before beginning his search.

The crowd of businessmen swallowed you whole and it was only Lando’s hand that kept you from being swept away as he followed the bodies into the venue. His stiff back that you tucked in behind was the only outward sign that he hated the event but it was a night that couldn’t be avoided as McLaren needed investors to continue its growth.

“Drink, love?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Only if it’s strong,” you winked. He smirked before suddenly changing direction and towing you towards the bar. “Shit!”

Lando turned quicker than your eyes could follow and he was glaring at the shocked stranger who stared at the damp splash in your dress. It would have made you laugh if the dress wasn’t worth more than your monthly pay and currently freezing from the icy drink that now decorated your bodice.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the man apologised.

“You didn’t see her?” Lando asked in disbelief. He couldn't understand how anyone could miss the most beautiful person in the room.

“It-it’s just water,” he stammered as he reached to brush the water drops away but Lando caught his wrist before he could touch you. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t paying attention,” you said as you peered around for the bathrooms before spotting the arrow pointing down a hall. “Come on, Lan.”

“Watch where you are going next time,” Lando imparted the advice as he turned with you, feeling your elbow nudge into his ribs at the attitude. “What? There is no way he didn’t see you. Everyone else can’t take their eyes off you.”

You rolled your eyes at the idea and stepped into the room as he opened the door for you. “It’s you they are staring at,” you corrected.

He slipped inside the powder room behind you and checked the attached room for the toilet was empty before he attacked. His lips threatened to ruin your makeup as he pinned you between his body and the wall, grinding himself along your front until your eyes fluttered shut. “You don’t see what I do,” he murmured between his heated kisses to your neck. His hand ran up your thigh, finding the slit in the dress so it could climb higher and brush the edge of your panties. “So fucking sexy and everyone knows you’re mine.”

A throat cleared and your eyes flew open to see Oscar leaning back against the door, an amused smirk on his lips as he watched the show unfold. “Yours?” he taunted as he snapped the lock into place.

“Ours,” Lando accentuated with his usual sass that had Oscar pushing off from the door and crossing the distance in two long strides.

Desire was pooling at your core as you watched Oscar’s hand envelope Lando’s throat and pull him closer. Their lips collided with a fierce need to determine dominance and Lando tried to fight it before he succumbed to Oscar with a moan. Satisfied, Oscar pulled back to see Lando’s pupils blown out and a breathy whimper escaped his swollen lips.

“You are both mine,” Oscar clarified before his eyes danced over your body and noticed the wet material. “What happened?”

“Some idiot spilt his drink on her.”

Oscar grabbed a hand towel from the shelf and started to dab away as much moisture as he could but every brush of the material sent little bolts of lightning across your body. Suddenly it felt like your body was on fire and you bit your lip as the flames reached your core.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as the last touch caught the underside of your beast and it felt heavy with need. “Do that again, please.”

Lando was feeling the same heated effects course through his veins as the chocolates reacted with his body. “I think it’s been an hour,” he chuckled, reaching for the stiff peak he could see pressing against the thin material of your dress. He brushed the back of his knuckles over your nipple and hummed at the sound you made for him.

Oscar abandoned the cloth and sank to his knees on the tiles. He swore he could smell your sweet arousal, the mouthwatering scent driving him insane as he bunched your dress up and kissed your core over the lace. The ax of time hung over your head as you all knew the dinner was about to begin but you didn’t care the moment you looked down at Oscar’s eyes.

“Just a quickie,” he agreed as he read your mind. Lando crushed his lips against yours as Oscar pushed your panties aside and tasted you with a languid swipe of his tongue. One boyfriend made you cry out and the other stole the sound with his kiss. Your hands tangled their hair, feeling the different textures between your fingers as you deepened the kiss and rocked your hips against Oscar’s face.

“Fuck,” Lando groaned at the pretty sight. “I’m so unbelievably hard right now.” He grabbed your hand to prove his words and you stroked his length over his trousers. “I don’t know if I want to kill Danny anymore.”

Oscar laughed against your clit and the vibration curled your toes in your heels and you cried out at the sensation. The sound cut through Lando’s amusement and his belt snapped open, his trousers falling just enough to free his cock. Your hand wrapped around him and he covered your hand with his, guiding you up and down in long slow strokes.

“We are going to make a mess of your dress, baby,” Lando moaned as he felt his orgasm coming embarrassingly quickly thanks to the chocolate. You barely heard him as your own impending release hazed your mind but Oscar thought quick enough to pull away. Your body missed his mouth instantly but your cunt clenched at the sight of him taking Lando’s cock deep in his throat. “Fuck, Osc, that’s it, babe.”

You could hardly breathe as you watched Lando’s jaw clench and he shuddered as he spilled himself in Oscar’s mouth. Your boyfriend’s throat bounced as stood up and he swallowed the mouthful down, leaving Lando to sag against the wall while he recovered.

“You missed a spot,” you said as you leant in and caught the drop of cum that clung to the corner of his lips. A soft hum reverberated as you shared the taste with a kiss and you pressed yourself against him to feel just how much he was feeling the drug too. “Need a hand?”

“Not quite,” he smirked, turning you around to face Lando. “Hold on.”

Lando reached out and you gripped his forearms as Oscar bundled your dress up in one hand and pushed your panties aside again with the other. He gave no warning before he sheathed himself deep inside your cunt and you buried your face in Lando’s chest with a gasp. You felt impossibly full before he snapped his hips back and then buried himself in you, over and over, an unrelenting pace that quickly brought back the edge of your orgasm.

Your cries were muffled by Lando’s dress shirt and your nails threatened to rip the expensive jacket he wore as you were rocked by your release that came so suddenly white spots danced across your vision. For a second your body was disconnected from your mind and the two only collided back together when Oscar joined you, warmth pooling in your core as he filled it with his seed.

“Wooow,” Oscar chuckled as he pulled out and combed a hand through his hair. “That shit is strong.”

“At least we have something to take the edge off,” Lando said, before tossing the hand towel to Oscar. Oscar ran the towel under the warm tap and carefully cleaned up the mess he made before he pulled your panties back into place and let your dress fall around your unsteady legs.

Oscar curled a brow at his boyfriend and the glint in his eye that said he expected a few more stops to this room during the night. “Let’s try to make it back to the hotel next time.”

“No promises,” he said with a wink. “Now, shall we go and sit through a bunch of old man speeches and try not to fall asleep?”

You looked down at your dress and found the wet patch had dried considerably, so much that it wouldn’t even be noticeable in the dim lights of the hall. “You still owe me a drink.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lando gave you a salute and unlocked the door, opening it to an empty corridor. “A strong one. Osc?”

“No, thank you, one of us has to be responsible.”

Lando looked at you, his lips barely suppressing the grin on his face. “He says it like he didn’t just fuck you in a bathroom.”

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #landoscar x reader #landoscar fic #landoscar smut #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #lando norris smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smut

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