#first give away for this was how much he was glossy and sweating

[catwouthats]

lol I can’t believe Logan was in heat through out the Deadpool and Wolverine movie /hj

Link here ig

[vampiricgf]

— VON LYCAON ; PROFESSIONAL DEMEANOR

warnings: fem reader, knotting, cervix fucking, unrealistic sex, creampie, size kink sorta, mentions of reader being smaller than him, I know he cums loud n abundant!!

sorry if this sucks it's my first time writing about knots pls be niceys to me im just horny >.< pst~ my zzz requests are open!

It was just so... adorable watching you struggle to take his knot all by yourself. The way your cheeks were so flushed from exertion and the many, many orgasms he'd given you over the course of the last hour or so, the way your skin glistened with sweat was so tantalizing his teeth practically ached to sink into the tenderness at the side of your neck.

Ordinarily Lycaon held himself to a higher standard, a requirement when dealing with the upper echelon of clientele that Victoria Housekeeping frequently partners with. But with you that carefully constructed veneer showed signs of wear, of cracks, as if you'd waltzed right up to him with a sledgehammer in your grasp.

As his fingers massaged careful, soothing circles into the backs of your thighs as he held your legs folded up to your chest he couldn't help but feel adoration for you in this moment. Not that he doesn't adore you all the time, always, but there's just something uniquely special about knotting you.

"Do you want my help?" He could barely get the words out, nearly cutting himself off in a ragged groan feeling your pussy clamp down around him again, walls desperately massaging his length and begging for what you both knew would finally grant fulfillment. And god did he want to give it to you, wanted to give you so much and your poor body would have no choice but to take it as he bore down on you against the mattress.

But he was mindful of your limitations, even in the heights of pleasure it was never far from his mind. He'd never be able to trust himself with you again if he caused you any harm, if he pushed too hard. But you're just so cute, begging to be filled up and held down until your glossy eyes are drowning with tears. You make it hard to be gentlemanly.

In between wheezing breathes you nod, pathetically whimpering as your arms lace around his neck and its all he needs before pulling out, agonizingly slow until just the tip of his throbbing cock rested heavily inside you. You gasped, crying out his name brokenly as his hips snapped forward, just hard enough to make you squeal before he felt the telltale pop of his knot slotting snugly against your walls.

With barely contained strength he used his upper body to push you deeper against the plush mattress, pressing his forehead against yours as his teeth instinctually bared with every spurt of hot, milky cum that drowned your cervix. He'd been so focused on you and your pleasure for the last hour or so that he honestly failed to realize just how badly he needed to cum, rocking against you to both ensure it filled up even the deepest parts of you and to hear you make those sweet little cries that he eagerly swallowed down as his lips pressed against yours in a kiss made of sloppy teeth and tongues.

Your walls fluttered around him, body greedily accepting the flood of sticky seed and it makes him more than a little lightheaded on the comedown. He stays inside you, holding you as your breathing evens out into a less frantic pace and your eyes flutter open to meet his. Despite being a bit far away he can tell you're present, and with a hum of satisfaction he presses a kiss to your hairline and finally slides out of you.

Pulling back to rest on his knees he helps you bring your legs back down, feet planted against the mattress but in an instant he freezes, captivated. The sight of his cum dripping from your still clenching hole, the sheer amount of it, and the way your mixed mess of cum and sweat made your inner thighs glisten makes his throat suddenly parched.

It's not lost on you, and despite your own exhaustion he watches the way your hand slides down your belly before swiping two fingers through your folds, gathering the pearly liquid on your fingers before gingerly circling your puffy clit.

It was absurd, how the sight had his cock twitching with renewed interest and he wondered briefly just how insatiable you really were.

He already knows how badly he wants to devour you, knows the amount of work it takes to keep the urge in check, but it seems you're determined to fully wrench that self control away from him.

And maybe he'll let you...

[anundyingfidelity]

PRIMAL — Weapon X!Logan

Summary: You are right where he wants and won't escape the subject's twisted mind.

Warnings: heavy non-con smut, dark stuff, mentions of being tortured, female!reader. Read at your own risk tbh, thank you if you do though. Someone pls write more Weapon X! Logan, I'm going crazy at this point.

GEN MASTERLIST!

He has you exactly where he wants. Between the concrete and his intimidating aura. Your eyes are glossy, chest going up and down, ready to be the next victim. His last one.

You study the Weapon X subject one more time. He’s broad and muscular, strong frame with adamantium bones, claws out his knuckles as he walks to you, full in his naked glory. Stains of blood start to dry off on his chest, abdomen and shoulders. And even though in other circumstances he would make a good-looking man, he is far from being one now.

He is not human anymore, he is an animal. And you had been part of the experiments since the beginning. For some reason, he had saved you last from all the personnel of the base. A twisted and sick choice.

Logan takes the last two steps towards you, closing the distance. He can smell your fear, sense the shaking of your whole body, the beating of your heart… He had been watching you, paying special attention to you each time he could. Your voice, your silhouette, your job, your routines around the lab. Everything you did he had learned.

And now, after killing and dismantling the place, leaving a horrid trade of bodies and red around, he feels like finishing everything with you.

He doesn’t know your name, he just knows you were part of them and he fucking hates it.

How could such a pretty thing like you could bear torturing a lost soul like him? He growls at the thought, leaning until his nose is almost touching yours.

You gasp loud, the echoes of your breathing filling the empty place. Your eyes shut and you feel tears running down your cheek.

“Logan…”

He replies with a deep groan again, taking in the scent of your neck and the salty sweat covering your skin. Oh and how he loves the reactions of your body as he traces his way to the shell of your ear with his nose.

“Please… You- you’re not like this…”

Begging would do nothing, he knows it. You keep begging and begging, calling his name as he takes in the features of your face, eyes barely opening. And when you cross glances, besides the fear on your gaze, he can sense something else building on you: arousal. It’s not the first time he’s sensed it on you, but sure he will take out his own suffering and frustrations on that.

“Logan…”

Claws come close, cutting your blouse and bra off. He rips the fabric with his hands before your trousers and panties come off the same way. You squirm and cry, but don’t make any effort on pushing him away because you know he would win the same. He’s massive, stronger, and dangerous. He’s a weapon you helped to build, and compared to him, you are nothing.

Probably he will get vengeance by tearing you apart, forcing you on the smudged, cold floor. He’s all over you, not quite giving kisses but bruises with his lips and teeth on your neck, biting on your skin, legs wide as he feels your wet cunt against his hard cock.

You cry his name, more like a moan, when he forces himself inside your tight walls without any preparation. He’s animalistic, erratic, growling, almost howling, like a dog in heat.

The scratch of your nails do nothing. He pounds harder into your abused cunt, tearing an orgasm out of you. He spills himself in seconds, feeling your walls around him sucking him completely, and he continues fucking you over and over his own high, increasing the sensitive feeling between your legs. And just as you think Logan is over by how quick he keeps rutting on you, hips making an obscene noise every time he buries balls deep inside your cunt, it feels like he goes faster, harder, that it becomes too much and you cling into him with nails and loud whimpers, sore throat crying into the void.

He comes a second time with a deep moan, filling you up once again and you do nothing but take it. Slowly, he pumps his white seed into you until he fully stops inside your abused, needy pussy.

The primitive need to kill now is replaced with a more primal urge, and you would be perfect for that from now on.

[samubytheocean]

that thin line of making out

You want it, you’re pretty sure he wants it too. So what do you do when nobody has the courage to make the next move?

Suggestive fluff, maybe smut

His hands are gripping your shirt, so tight just enough for it to wrinkle and ride up your soft skin. It’s funny, because at the same time he is laying down facing you, with this some wall between. But his tongue feels so desperate, and that thin line of sanity you can feel it on his lips. It’s been how long? Hours? You don’t even know. There’s chills along with spit running down your jaw of constant making out. Correction; just. making out.

The feeling of numb lips, an unfamiliar feeling, shoots down into your spine. The fact that you can now recognize his heavy breathing- for it’s basically yours at this point- makes the warmth between your legs pool, and you’re just praying that it’s not seeping through your shorts. He hasn’t even touched away from your shoulders yet.

Your hands are gripping his face, and you can feel every vibration from his throat on your fingertips. Soft hitches of groans escaping into your mouth, it seems to echo back to his, however hard you’re even to keep it down. There’s sweat all over- shit, it might be the spit, you don’t know- and the room feels so hot it’s dizzying. You carefully experiment your fingers- tiptoeing down to his neck, hoping your slow movements won’t give away what you’re thinking.

It’s a weird feeling. You’re so content in this moment, feeling him all around you. Your hands are glued where they are, and you’re holding onto your sanity for dear life, not even knowing why you’re holding back in the first place. In all honesty, you’re sure he feels the same. If you grabbed off his shirt, you know he would be thanking you. The burning twitching in his thighs, every time you bite his plump lips, bucks into yours messily.

You’re curious. The thick layers of sweatpants- something you’ve never even considered before- limits the warmth, and the hardness to be felt from your thighs, where all your senses seem to be focused on. The realization of it- that the fabric is limiting you from him, a part of him that you’ve never explored before, makes your face burn. Yeah there’s no doubt about you wanting to go further. But something in you stops you, as it does him. Shit, you never knew being so similar to each other could make this so frustrating.

He pulls away from you, and the feeling of him taking a shaky warm breath makes you hesitantly open your eyes. And you swear you could have devoured him right there- rolled him over and climbed right on top- by his sinfully blown eyes staring right at your puffy glossy lips. You tense up a little, and glance down to look at his, bitten all cherry red and so pretty. He looks back into your eyes, and you’re not sure what’s in that look. You’re not sure because you feel the exact same way. His eyes are begging with pure adoration and devotion, but of what? Permission? Dismissal?

At this point you wish he would just undress you, or just push you off. Anything, anything to make this situation something else. Anything else than this pure anticipation. Your hands are still on his pulse point, the skin now searing hot and drumming of adrenaline. His hands are gripping your arms, now the sleeves all ridden up and the tense skin touching- quite the courage, by your and his standards, but fuck. You wanted much more. Or a definite less. But oh, so desperately more, if only possible.

“Just so we’re on the same page here, I’m like really hard right now” he spurts out, and the random confession makes you blurt out a blushy laugh. Especially because the vocal expression of a vulgar word to you made his neck glow red. And that bulge in his pants visibly twitch. Huh, would that be the same shade?- hell, the thought makes you look away from his eyes, barely keeping your amused expression. The tension seems a little eased. You sink back into the bed, and God, it hits you that you’re so close to this handsome boy who you’ve got this crush on. And he’s so, so turned on by you. Lucky you.

“Yeah? I can tell.” you giddily whisper back, and for a second you catch the frustration seep out and a adorable mix of embarrassment and relief into his face. Cute. He’s so close, but he’s also so far away. The shallow breathing fans your face, and it smells like lemon candy, along with your chapstick. It’s a dearing combination, you make the mental note to ask about it later. His hands rise a little to fiddle with the edge of your elbows. It’s the most he can do right now, pretty much the only part of your skin that won’t bend his sanity into two. Yet the slim sweat on your arm is really testing him.

“It’s so hot in here” he breaks the silence again. You turn your head to look at him, and he shoots you a sweet puzzled face. To you it looks like a question. Almost a suggestion, a test, maybe a request. And you can’t help but very slowly blurt out, a trembling answer to your darling boy. You already know the answer. It’s almost like you’re asking this to yourself, to convince yourself that you’re in safe, loving, careful hands.

“Ca- can I take your clothes off?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he nods almost absentmindedly with the dumbest nervous smile forming on his lips. But judging from what you’ve seen under the dark lights, his pretty eager face flushing furiously, glittering mouth slightly agape and dark eyes for the tiniest second rolling back- fucking hell-

he almost came right there, in his pants. By your words only.

Yeah. You’re going to fucking devour your man.

YAMAGUCHI, LEV, YAKU, ASAHI, KUROO, OSAMU (come over babe one chance)

YUTA, YUUJI, MEGUMI

ARMINNNNN

[cheonstapes]

omg plss do a miguel x bimbo reader im in love <3

miguel o'hara stars in... 'HANDY MIGGY'

(っ╹ᆺ╹)っ

a/n ~ I. LOVE. BIMBOS!!!! thank you for the request sweetie, love you💗 miguel would deffo love a cute little bimbo, i just know it

summary; you don't know how to change your tyres. why would you? that's what your boyfriend's for!

pairing; miguel o'hara x bimbo!reader

wc; 1.4k+

cw; SMUT!!!!, breeding kink (can you tell i have a breeding kink), semi-public sex, fuckin on the car, reader speaks a bit of spanish, daddy kink, meanish!dom miguel, sub!reader, reader is a bit stupid, princess treatment!, reader is a bad bitch, overstimulation, squirting, orgasm control, teensy bit of aftercare, THEY'RE IN LOVE YOUR HONOR, nawt proofread - i cannot drive, yet.

surely you weren’t that dumb? were you?

standing there in the 40° heat - wedge sandals, short skirt with your thong riding high on your hips, sweat-sheened tits spilling our of your cute little crop top. a girl always has to look her best, even when she’s about to melt into a puddle from the sun. doing things that required you to use your brain wasn’t something you did often, that’s what your boyfriend’s for! 

to be fair, you were never big on cars. barely passing your drivers test, and your daddy getting you your first car shortly after - you didn’t really want to drive around everywhere yourself, the pink porsche taycan collecting dust in your garage, being a passenger princess is the lifestyle now. unfortunately for you, your boyfriend - even though he would collect all the stars in the sky for you if you asked - refuses to let you put that car to waste. so now you’re forced to resurrect the thing, cleaning it up a little bit - and…you have to change the tyre’s. 

you even forgot about the punctures, after you accidentally drove over a few spikes in the road coming out of the wrong exit - sometimes you question why you ever qualified for a license. all the tyres were severely fucked up, deflated so much they look like they melted into the floor. your daddy gave you a bunch of spares in case (he knew it would) it ever happened. they were just so heavy, though. you weren’t built for lugging around fucking tyres - but your boyfriend is!!

so you called him, in the middle of the day, knowing he’s probably busy doing his big man job or whatever - but you knew he would drop everything to come and help you, this is an emergency girl! to no one’s surprise, he got there within 15 minutes of you ending the call, speeding into your driveway as he jumps out of the car. sometimes, you forget how mouthwateringly sexy your boyfriend is. 

a tight black compression shirt, matching shorts that clung to his thick thighs - black rimmed sunglasses matching yours pushing his hair back. not to mention the little grimace on his face from stepping out in the heat. “what’s up, baby? you ok? need me to get anything for you?” aw, he was so worried. he’s gonna be so pissed when he finds out what you really need him for.

“hi papito, so glad you’re here.” let’s try to sweet talk him a little bit, maybe it won’t be so bad if you give him a little love - the one thing he can’t resist. you hold his face in your hands, pressing a glossy kiss on his puckered lips. his brows furrow slightly, big hands resting on your hips as he pulls you close him, a low moan escaping him as he pulls away. “good to see you too, angel.” he had an amused smirk on his face, lightly caressing your ass under your skirt. “now, tell me what you need help with.”

nodding, you shyly take his hand in yours and lead him to the garage. it was a mess, to say the least - tools scattered everywhere, tyres rolling around where they’re not supposed to be, something that looked like grease spilled on the floor. “the fuck were you tryna do here, babe?” you smiled sheepishly, looking down at the floor before looking back up at him with round eyes. 

“…’m tryna change my tyres.” 

he rolled his eyes, placing his hands on his hips as he stared at you - an unimpressed look on his face. “god, you’re really a-

——————————————————————————————————

- dumb, fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?” the hood of your car was covered in a mix of your shared arousal, drool dripping out of your swollen lips down your chest. “only good for taking this fat cock, hm?”

hard nipples rubbing against your windshield, body jolting violently as your boyfriend abused his cock into your cunt. he was stretching you out so deliciously, his arms under your legs to keep you stable. “m-miggy, mm- fuuuuck, ‘s too much!” he really didn’t care, not when you looked so pretty under him. secretly, he loved how much you would rely on him - seeing that look on your face when you’d ask him for help, shit if it didn’t make him so fucking hard. but, god did he love to punish you for it. 

“too much for your stupid, little brain, baby? y’re so cute, you know that?” nodding dumbly, you grind your hips back onto his, flipping up your skirt to slam your ass onto his pelvis so he can watch the cheeks ripple. miguel let out a low growl, slamming a hand down by your head so he can lean against your back, the other gripping your hip. “just wanna fuck you ‘till you’re nothin’ but a senseless breeding bitch f’r me.” his breathing was heavy against your ear, sharp teeth nicking at the sensitive skin. 

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you muñeca? quieres que te llene de mi semen. esta linda barriga toda pesada con mis bebés. wouldn’t let you raise a finger again, ‘m gonna do everything f’r you - since you’re too fuckin’ dumb to do it yourself, gorgeous.” he had such a mouth on him, didn’t he. that didn’t sound too bad, being a stay at home mum. as long as you don’t have to do anything, then you’d happily stay plugged up with his cum all the time.

his balls were heavy, smacking against your stiff clit as he worked your hips back on him. the sensations were overwhelming. every ounce of your body was feeling the pleasure, the reflection of his strained face through the windshield making you clench tightly around him. he hissed, smacking your cunt before gripping your neck and holding you against his hard chest. “stop fuckin’ clenching. if there’s anything that small brain of yours should comprehend, it’s don’t cum till i tell you to.” 

“papitooo- please, i need’ta cum - i can feel it, baby!” you, poor, poor thing. too bad he doesn’t give a fuck. he pounded into you even harder, blunt head bullying your cervix. he quickly flipped you around, pressing your back onto the car as he gripped your hips, grinding slowly into you. “hold it.”

angling his hips just right, he drove his fat cock deeper into you, coarse hairs tickling your clit. his fingers trailed up your body, ripping your shirt as he flicked your nipples, spitting on your chest to get them nice and wet. “y’re so pretty, mm, my pretty baby.” his balls tightened, cock twitching hard inside of you as his tip drooled all over your walls.

“gonna cum in your tight, fuckin’ cunt, babe - rub your clit f’r me, or is that too hard for you?” he was so cruel but so sweet. sadistically watching your shaky fingers work your aching clit as his pelvis slammed into you. “goood girl. squirt f’r me, muñeca.” he gazed deep into your eyes, big hands caressing your cheek. 

it all gushed out at once, a heavy stream jetting out of your and coating his chest as he let out a deep chuckles, plugging you up with his girth. he fucked you through it, pinching at your throbbing bud as you shook in his hold. “w-wait, miggy, ‘m too sensitive!” he grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the car. he let out a low snarl, covering you completely as he rammed deep inside. “quiet. keep that pretty mouth shut.” he didn’t realise how much that would set him off, his orgasm coming before he could even process it.

his whole body tensed up, ass clenching, fingers bruising your hips, hips jutting in and out of you - filling you to the brim with his cum. he was breathing sluggishly, pulling your hips down towards him to keep all his seed inside. “you…you did so good, baby. i love you, yeah? so much.” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your face affectionately. “i love you too, papito.”

you stayed there for a few minutes, wrapped up in each other as you found each others lips, making out smoothly on the car. you pulled a way, placing a hand on his chest - staring at the new tyres that he fixed on for you. “migs?” he nodded, kissing and biting your neck.

“how do i change the oil?”

-quieres que te llene de mi semen. esta linda barriga toda pesada con mis bebés - you want to be filled with my cum. this cute tummy all heavy with my babies.

-muñeca - doll

-papito - daddy

-i wanna be a bimbo doll!

[wonton4rang]

Kiss and make up ¡!

pairing: bnd legal line x gn!reader

warnings: smut +18, some toxic behaviour (ig idek atp), cursing, unprotected sex (be safe y'all 😔) and I think that's about it, lmk if I missed anything.

genre: smut. ♡

summary: how would be make up sex with boynextdoor members (legal line - everyone but woonhak)

note: I was going to post an ask I got ready for today but tumblr kinda glitched and it delete half of it so I need to re-write and edit it again :'( please enjoy this as an apology <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sungho; make up sex with him can be overwhelming, and it most likely will, there could be two reasons for it: he is sooooo sorry for everything that he keeps whispering little "sorry, baby" into your ear or he's still kinda mad and just fucks you out of despair. either one you will feel so good and full that you will forgive him for anything you got mad for in the first place. it was sungho and his strong body and gifted cock against you, tbh who would go against that? his pretty foxy eyes looking down on you with so much appreciation, his lips glossy due to your own saliva and his hair sticking to his forehead due to the sweat. he was so hot and it was just a small disagreement anyways, nothing you guys couldn't talk about after you were stuffed full like a pillow.

riwoo; i see him into some dynamic type of sex, nothing crazy but something that would consume lots of energy, like fucking you in some odd yet pleasant position with no rest, your knees numb and your arms trembling, but when it's make up sex he would be the sweetest and most cliche person, laying you on your back and caressing your cheeks while he left a trail of kisses all over your face, neck and your collarbone, mumbling how pretty you were and how much he hated to fight with you. he's just so sweet and good for you :(( you guys definitely talk about things and get to a solution together, it might be even faster than with other members since i feel like riwoo will understand and make his point clear so that it can be solved accordingly and fast.

jaehyun; he's crying. but not like a few tears shed, he's crying his eyes out whenever you guys have an argument about anything and everything and he really doesn't wanna see you afterwards because he feels so wronged. but when you knock on the door of your shared bedroom after giving him some space, he would make a light pout, looking away so you can know that he's still mad. it only took you two minutes of "baby, I'm sorry, it was not my intention to yell at you. It's not your fault that I'm stressed and I'm sorry I let it out on you, can you please forgive me?" and he will, cause jaehyun is like a little puppy to you, he would never say no, better yet, his answer was "i forgive you, y/n, how 'bout I help you getting rid of that stress, hm?" and then he made you come around his cock twice, giving you a third orgasm while eating you out and softly giggling at your wasted look, kissing you before helping you get a relaxing bath and then tuck you in bed.

taesan; I think I've said this before but I don't see him as a highly sex-drived person, not really understanding all the hype about it, yes, it was good and he loved to fuck you and make love to you, but it was not his top priority. yet I do believe he has his triggers. so when you guys got into this heated argument he realized something: he found your angry self very appealing, the way you yelled at him and pushed his chest making him grin a little bit at the fact that he could tower you and stop you in any moment but you felt that you controlled him. the whole discussion was about some girl that held his arm earlier and he did not move her, you were furious cause you knew how much he hated physical contact with most people and letting that random girl do it like that? you raged. "is this funny to you?" you said, getting him back from his thoughts. "she's no one, love, but I can show you why you are mine right now" you were confused, not following his words are they were so out of place. "you're so hot when you get cold" was the last thing he said before taking you into a deep kiss that ended up with you crying out his name while he made love slowly to you, pounding your cunt full while his soft and wet lips kissed your face. taesan was yours, all yours, no else mattered to him, he did not have any interest in other girls. it was you, you were his one and only.

leehan; where do I even start? he would listen to everything you have to say, quietly nodding to the points you're making and chewing his cheek to avoid saying anything stupid that would interrupt your failed version of an apology, because right now all he can think about is the away your boobs wiggle under your loose large tshirt with every move that your hands do, your tights looking so pretty that he couldn't avoid staring and you noticed, snapping your fingers in his face and rolling your eyes when he just smirked at you, throwing his hair back and sitting comfortably in the couch before spreading his legs a little bit. "if you're so sorry you could show me with actions, y/n" he was so cocky that you couldn't even be mad at him, straddling in his lap and moving your panties aside when he took his dick out and aligned it with your soaked entrance. "you're going to fuck me so good, aren't you, baby?" a soft kiss was pressed in your lips and he leaned back to let you ride the shit out of him. the so called argument long gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope you guys enjoyed!! <33

[arachine]

u asked so I shall deliver :3

but imagine whiny n fucked out Dave Lizewski omfffhhhgggggg, his hair is a mess n his glasses are falling off, they're all dirty too bc he's handsy! Ik he is! and he tries to grab anything he can on u but u just tut him and tell him to keep his hands to himself, so nowwww he's whining even more, he's begging too atp, all glossy eyes and jutted out lips. I KNOW he's a pretty crier, so why shouldn't u mess with him a lil yk?

moral of the story, Dave. Just Dave.

nghhhhh rina i’m gonna scream SO loud.

warnings: unprotected sex, dacryphilia (i think? cba to check if i included it), whiny dave (like down bad, pussydrunk dave) + so rushed i’m sorry but i need to fr study lol :3

can just imagine him begging to touch you. at first, he tries to bargain with you. asks if he can just ‘hold your hips for a bit’, so you don’t ‘fall off’—as he puts it. but you’re ruthless. all bite and no bark.

“good boys keep their hands to themselves,” you tsk, swatting away his wandering appendage. the admonishment forces a whine from his throat, and he retracts his hand quickly like a child scolded for getting into the cookie jar. “don’t you wanna be a good boy for me, baby?”

“yes—fuck—god, yes. j’st let me touch you, let me h-hold you,” he pleads, and it’s so cute. the knot between his brows, the erythro in his cheeks—the crystalline droplets cascading down his face. it doesn’t take much persuasion to get you to acquiesce; not when he’s beneath you like this. looking up at you like you just hung the stars in the sky. “ok, go ahead, baby. touch me.”

and as soon as you give him the okay, he’s flipping you over onto your back, all muscles and eagerness. grabs the weight of his cock and bullies it into your little hole, unconcerned by your protests and light-hearted pleas for him to slow down.

“easy, ‘m not going anywhere,” you giggle, but it falls on deaf ears because he’s concentrated. focused—on one thing and one thing only—or maybe two things—or a few things: your skin, the rivulets of sweat between your breasts, your eyes—the perfect little ‘o’ shape your mouth makes when he hits that spot just right. yeah, he’s focused.

“babybabybaby, i’m close,” he says in your ear, a mixture of a whine and cry, “please, lemme do it inside. can i? i’ll get you the pill, swear i will, s-swear it!”

and at the nod of your approval, he’s pistoning into you like a rabid thing. all mumbles and whimpers, expletives and grunts. telling you how sweet you are to him, and how lucky he is to have a girlfriend who let’s him finish inside her.

says he’ll, “never fuck another girl again,” while the weight of his hand rests firmly against your jaw, and his lithe fingers maneuver your head to meet his lips. and you know he’s telling the truth—because his eyes are all hazy and glossy. they get like that when he’s close; and they got like that when he declared his love for you some time ago. a tell-tale sign.

“so close, baby. use me, you can do it,” you caress his cheek, clenching once, twice, three times around him in an effort to get him to finish. and it works. he manages a few more lazy thrusts before he’s plopping down onto you with a strangled moan and a sigh.

“about that pill…” he starts, “i only have $10 in my account. don’t think we’re ready to be parents.”

gasping, you raise a hand to yank him back by the hair, “lizewski, get off of me right now.” the brunet chuckles but it only coaxes you to pull tighter at the scalp.

“ow, okay, okay. i was just kidding,” he admits, grabbing at the hand holding his hair by the root, “let me go and i’ll go pick it up.”

“alright, go,” you release him, “but seriously, get off of me. you’re heavy.”

© arachine 2023

[seungiepop]

1:27 pm ✰

yang jungwon x older idol gf!reader

wc: 0.7k

caution: cursing, giving head, smut

masterlist

∘ ₒ ✰ ∙ ✧ ₒ ∙ ★ ∘ ₒ

“Noona! f-fuck that feels so good!”

“Shh wonie we don’t wanna get caught.”

Y/n whispered against his neck sucking on the flushed skin, her strokes not slowing down one bit. Jungwon cursed himself for getting in this position, he explicitly told her to wait after they were done with the show but she was just too good at getting what she wanted. The way she batted her cute eyes at him and pouted her glossy lips was all it took for him to pull her into the small crowded closet. Leaned against the door, head thrown back in pleasure with her hand inside his pants, stroking his hard cock all while kissing on his neck. They only had a few minutes before they were called on stage to perform, yet he wanted her to also receive some type of pleasure from this make-out session. So grabbing her by the waist Jungwon turned them around so she was now leaned against the door instead of him, “wha- I want to make you feel good too pretty..” he cuts her off, placing his lips on her, returning the kiss she wrapped her arms around his neck pulling his body closer than it already was.

Moaning when he stuck his tongue inside her mouth she broke into a smile, she was happy being with him. Whether they were having sex or just hanging out at their dorms she loved his presence. “Why are you so smiley noona? hm?” he asked, pulling away from her lips and slowly getting on his knees. Watching the way he kneeled on the floor and bunched her skirt up to her waist made her press her thighs together. Clicking his tongue in disapproval he separated her legs to give him access; he began placing open mouthed kisses between her thighs. Y/n whined at the feeling of his lips on her skin, they were so close yet so far from where she needed him the most. “Won..” she groaned out of frustration, thrusting her hips towards his face but he immediately held her down.

With his free hand he pulled down both her safety shorts and underwear, wasting no time to place his lips on her. His tongue sliding up and down her lips to give himself a taste “Mhmm, taste so good!” he moaned against her, sending vibrations of pleasure throughout her whole body.

It’s like Jungwon was born to eat pussy, he knew exactly how to make her cum so hard with his tongue it's fascinating. The first time he’d ever gone down on her she had to lay there and just think about what had just happened with her legs violently shaking. It was crazy.

Wrapping his lips around her clit he began sucking at a slow pace, enjoying the way she whined and started moving her hips against his lips. Jungwon let her do her thing for a few more seconds before wrapping his arms around her thigh and squishing his face into her core. Humming from the sweet taste of her arousal that gushed from her hole “Fuck! Won right there— just like that!” she moaned. Pulling away from her clit he slid his finger into her wet hole, his dick twitching at the feeling of her warm gummy walls sucking his fingers in perfectly. “Such a pretty pussy..” he cooed, looking up to see her staring down at him with hooded eyes and gaped mouth. Without looking away he leaned down and placed a small kiss on her swollen clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucked while the pace of his fingers sped up.

Y/n felt her legs wanting to give out, the pleasure being too much to be able to hold herself up. The knot in her stomach snapped, her orgasm crashing through her body like a tidal of waves. Jungwon removed his lips from her clit but continued to move his fingers to ride out her high, when he felt finger wrap around his wrist he knew it was too much. Her heavy breathing was all that was heard inside the bathroom, a thin layer of sweat created on their skin “You okay?” he asked once he was in full stance, brushing away the damped baby hairs that stuck to her forehead. She nodded, swallowing the small lump of spit that had formed in the back of her throat. Suddenly remembering she looked down and see the very prominent hard on he had “Do you still need hel-“

“Y/N?”

“JUNGWON? WHERE ARE YOU GUYS?”

Their eyes widened hearing their manager's voice. Fuck how much time had passed?

[lieutnt]

Trans!simon being bred and squirting 🫡that is all

bullseye

Trans!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male Reader Summary: You try and make Simon squirt as many times as you can. Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only. Mating press, squirting, breeding.

He can feel the pleasure bubbling belly-deep, the wet slap, slap, slap bouncing off the walls as you fold him in half, pressing his legs into his shoulders as you piston your hips, fucking your cock into him seamlessly, his pussy sucking you in greedily.

You’ve fucked him countless times, but he’s never felt so full, felt so wet, and as his orgasm approaches it feels different, like it’s building to something he’s never experienced before. 

He’s too in his own head to warn you, too lost in the pleasure to say anything, and with just a few more thrusts he’s gushing, clear fluid squirting out and coating your thighs, splashing up to your abdomen as he moans lowly, eyes almost rolling into the back of his head with the pleasure of relief as he twitches underneath you, hips jerking as if pulled by an invisible force.

His pussy clenching around you becomes secondary as what just happened settles in your brain. Eyes wide with awe as you watch him come down from his high, chest heaving with breaths until he’s mostly recovered. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, eyes glossy with pleasure meet yours as he lifts his head. There’s a beat of silence before you laugh in disbelief, “That was fucking hot.”

Simon grumbles, legs falling to land either side of you up as you lean back, and he cringes internally when he begins to feel the dampness on the sheets under his ass, damp with him. His head falls back as you grin at him like the cat who caught the canary, sighing as you press yourself against him again, placing an exaggerated wet, smacking kiss to his lips before teasing the edge of his jaw, down his throat. “What are you doing?” he mumbles, confused by your sudden bout of affection.

You gently rock your hips, letting Simon feel how much you still ache for him, cock twitching inside. “I want to see if you can do it again,” you explain between lavishing his neck with kisses. You don’t move any faster than a slow rolling pace, giving Simon time to think. 

He exhales through his nose heavier than normal at your movement, pleasure stirring again. He barely manages to speak his agreement, “Yeah, ok-” before he’s interrupted with you pinning his legs back and beginning heavy thrusts, cock dragging against his insides that has his head growing fuzzy, pleasure building each time you strike as deeply as you can.

Simon clings to your arms as each thrust rocks his body, the clenching of his pussy around your cock sending pleasure sizzling through your veins. You can hear his almost silent moans and ah, ah, ah, with each thrust as a similar feeling builds inside Simon- a big buildup that needs release, and this time, his brain manages to scramble together a warning, “Fuck, I-I think it’s gonna-”

“Yes, yes, let it all out,” you encourage, his pussy sloppy and rapidly bringing you to your own orgasm. 

His orgasm tears through his body, head thrown back in a final moan as another wave rushes out, coating your body in further wetness. It’s enough to push you over the edge, a hearty groan pouring from your chest as you spill inside him, cock kicking with each pulse as his insides are streamed with white. Simon’s convulsions milk you until he’s overflowing, your spend leaking out around your cock and streaming down. 

You stay interlocked after, chests heaving with exertion until discomfort settles in, your bodies covered in fluids and drenched in sweat. With Simon pinned you move first, settling back on your heels as you draw out, eyes unable to look away as you catch sight of Simon’s pussy, shining with a mixture of your cum and his release, twitching as white begins to slowly trickle out. 

Your body moves before you can think, two fingers gathering up what’s leaking out and pushing it back inside, a hiss coming from Simon who picks his head up to look at you. “Better not let any of it go to waste, yeah?”

[peachsukii]

— A harmless movie date turns steamy when reader and Yuuji have the theater to themselves.

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — (18+ MDNI!) first time writing yuuji! i wanted to make it sweet and sensual at the same time, so hopefully it reads that way!

You spent an embarrassing amount of time on your hair, makeup and picking out an outfit for your date with Yuuji. Loose curls, pastel eyeshadow with wispy lashes to match your freshly manicured nails, and a cute skirt with your favorite top.

Too bad he’s making a mess of it all in the darkness of the movie theater.

“Mmph, Yuu…fuck!” You attempt to cover your mouth in time to silence yourself and fail miserably.

“Yes, baby?” Yuuji sighs as he pulls away from your sticky center, half lidded honey irises gazing up at you like you’re a star in the sky.

Your eyes fall downward to the your bubblegum boyfriend in awe. Your skirt is shoved halfway up your ribcage, pink panties stretched around your ankles while your thighs rest comfortably atop Yuuji’s shoulders. He’s got you on the edge of the folding theater chair to be sure you don’t leave a too much mess, and to let you watch him obliterate you with his tongue.

His hands grip the plush of your thighs, squeezing and rubbing them daintily as he sensually devours you, agonizingly slow and purposeful. Every single swipe of his tongue and pop of his lips are intentional - calculated, even. Yuuji knows what drives you wild versus what doesn’t after being with you for a few months. It was experimental and sloppy at the start of your relationship, but once he got the hang of things, his confidence skyrocketed - your constant praise helped of course, too. He never thought he’d be the type to be so excited by it, but your sweet nothings never cease to make him melt.

Another mewl spills from your glossy lips as he dives back between your thighs, rocking your hips forward to silently beg him for more.

“You’re…so hot like this,” you whimper, hand traveling to fist his salmon locks. “Like you can’t get enough of me.”

Yuuji chuckles, the vibrations tugging on the rubber band in your belly, pulling taut and ready to snap. He gently takes the your hands and interlaces his fingers with yours, holding them as your thighs are quaking with anticipation. He was always a sucker for holding hands during sex of any kind and reminded you just how much of a sweetheart he is.

Your walls clamp down on his tongue, locking him in place as your release washes over you, flooding from your core and all over his face. Chest heaving and a bead of sweat rolling out from under your bangs, you sink into the chair as he laps up every ounce of your arousal. Your cheeks and neck are beat red in the afterglow of your orgasm - Yuuji’s favorite thing about you. You look like a goddess to him when you come, blissed out and angelic as your lashes flutter with delight.

With one last flick of his tongue, he removes your legs from his shoulders and sits back on his knees with a grin on his face. He’s enamored with how beautiful you look under the dim light of the theater, wondering how he got so lucky to find someone as pretty as you.

You shimmy back into your panties and ruffle your skirt back into place, smoothing out the wrinkles the best you could. Yuuji moves back to the seat next to you, leaning over to help fix your hair. He thumbs away a smudge of your eyeliner from the corner of your eye - he knows you’re going to check your makeup any second now to be sure it meet your own standards.

Instead, you bend over and give him multiple soft kisses on his cheek, nuzzling your face against his.

“Thank you,” you whisper, even though there’s no one else in the theater. “Can I do anything for you, babe?”

Yuuji shakes his head. “Nah, that can wait for later.” He kisses your forehead and finds your hand to hold once again. “I got impatient. Your thighs are so inviting in that skirt, baby.”

“Guess I should wear skirts more often,” you tease, booping him on the nose playfully. “I like keeping my good boy on his toes.”

That makes his cheeks flush, your praise going straight to his groin. You notice his reaction and giggle, resting your head on his shoulder peacefully as you squeeze his hand in your hold. “We can skip the rest of the movie if you don’t want to wait.”

Yuuji jumps to his feet excitedly, tugging you along with him. “I’ve seen this movie twice already, let’s go!”

was inspired by @kweenkatsuki-fics to finally dive into writing yuuji! hopefully this isn't too ooc for him~ ♡

[akicult]

contains ; domesticity. bf!suguru. suggestive themes. modern / college au. geto wants you to be his housewife basically. just a short drabble. mostly fluff.

just thinking about college bf!suguru that didn’t realize he was a domestic person until he met you.

he’s still young, only in his third year at university and he’s still deciding on what his near future will look like. he’s had his fair share of girlfriends, and little hookups, and to be quite frank—he didn’t think he was done either.

how was he supposed to know the first night he met you, bent over his backseat, was about to be the start of the most serious relationship he’d ever have.

that night started the first of many, slowly realizing he was only asking to hookup just because he wanted to see you. how he’d send a pickup text, with a frown on his cheeks because he thought you were only in it for that reason.

and when he finally swallowed his stubbornness, he was met with the most amazing two years of his life, stuck with you by his side.

college bf!suguru who, until he met you, hardly even dreamt about a future where the love of his life would carry his child in her arms, kissing his cheek and brewing a cup of coffee for the two of them to share in the morning.

he didn’t even care to imagine what that future would be like, what the woman would look like. it didn’t feel achievable, or even desirable until he fell in love with you.

and it was a random realization, but looking back on it—it was building. slowly.

weeks and weeks spent of you just pampering him, praising him, for even the most average things. like, getting an amazing score on an exam, and all you had to do was say, “aw! good job, baby!” before he was putty in your fingertips.

his room is all messy, deep dark circles under his eyes. it was procrastination’s fault—his fingers hurt from typing on his computer all day thanks to waiting until hours before a huge essay was due.

you offered to leave his apartment, to give him the concentration he needs to get it finished, but he was ushering a “no, no stay,” because he honestly didn’t want you to leave. so you stayed, situating yourself in the other room, occasionally popping in to check up on him—and eventually lay on his bed after he insists you to.

it’s only when he finally finishes—8 hours later and it’s already nighttime. his shoulders are slouched, his back is stiff and he’s walking out of his room with his closed computer weighing by his side.

and you’re still there.

not only are you still there, but you’re washing his dishes.

hair clipped back, sweatshirt engulfing your body and sweats tightly tied around your waist. you’re humming along to some music that plays over a speaker—quiet but loud enough to know what song is playing.

you look so utterly homey.

so…domestic.

like you’ve settled into your personal home after a long day at work, just blissfully scrubbing away on glossy white dishes that were previously eaten on. your clothes acknowledge that you’re comfortable, uncaring of what he sees you in.

although it’s not just the fact that you’re dressed like that—it’s the fact that you’re cleaning his things.

cleaning a mess you didn’t even make, just out of the kindness in your heart that’s making geto’s throat close and his palms sweaty. he’s in absolute awe that he doesn’t realize you’ve noticed his presence until you’re turning to face him.

“oh! did you finish?” you ask, turning the water off and rushing towards him.

he’s blinking, nodding slowly. “yeah—just submitted it.”

“yay! ‘m so proud of you!” you grin, lacing your fingers behind the back of his neck and pulling him in for a chaste kiss like you always do—but it feels so much different this time.

like you’re congratulating him on a big promotion, tugging on his work tie and kissing him until he’s forgetting his own name.

he feels like his ring finger is so cold, and there’s a missing heavy weight that’s never even been there in the first place.

like he’s an idiot for not tying you down on the spot—wrapping vows and vows around the two of you until you’re barely mobile.

and he wants to be your doting husband for the rest of his life. he wants to walk through his front door every evening with an awaiting kiss to his cheek, and a home-cooked meal fresh in his senses.

he wants to go to sleep with you in his arms every night, mumbling sweet ‘i love you’’s after flickering off the bedside lamp.

and maybe, just maybe one day, he wants to hear the gentle pitter patter of two little feet charging down the hallway.

this is accidentally freud coded (emphasis on accidentally)

[lasciviouspoison]

had to write this concept before i forgot it, lol. tw: toji! x chubby!reader, reader is mentioned to be bratty and submissive, use of pet names (mama, sugar, baby), breeding!, reader being cock drunk and toji is pussy drunk like a mf. per usual, i write with black women/woc in mind but all are welcome to read and enjoy. love ya!

toji fucks his pretty chubby bunny like there’s no tomorrow every. single. time.

now of course it took the two of you a bit of time to get comfortable with each other. and by the two of you, i mean you. at first, you were apprehensive to toji seeing you in a bra, much less completely nude!

but after a couple of months, the two of you grew to love each other and your guard completely crumbled to the ground. finally allowing toji to see you, whenever he wanted, however he wanted.

hence why now, it doesn’t matter the occasion, time, or place, when he can fuck you. but just how many times he can get u to cum before he does.

and right now, in your shared candle lit bedroom, he’s at a record number of three…

“jesus fucking christ baby, love it when you lemme fuck ya like this” toji says in between thrusts. there’s sweat beading at his hair line, causing his raven black hair to dampen ever so slightly.

mindless babbles and cries leave your lips as a response, causing him to chuckle and stroke you at a painfully slow pace.

“c’mon baby, talk ta me. lemme know how good i make ya feel.” he’s in your ear, but it feels like his voice is traveling all over you. at this point, you’re so delirious, it feels like he’s talking from inside your head.

“toji y’feel s’good. wanna do this f’rever” you say with a heavy tongue, glossy lips, and tears streaming down your face. if you’d have seen yourself right now, you would’ve ran away from him, but toji can only think to himself how beautiful you look right now.

beautiful hair splayed over the pillows in such a perfect way. your sleepy eyes looking up through those beautiful eye lashes. the perfect nose and full lips. silver jewelry all tangled from the movements, but he doesn’t care. how could he care when your body, that perfect and pliant body, is on display for him? so soft and pretty. smelling of vanilla, you’re like his own piece of heaven. one that he gets to build up and tear down each time you let him.

it’s why each time you let him fuck, he does it like he wants to put you through the mattress.

“forever huh? maybe you should quit that stupid job like i told ya. stay at home and sit pretty for me while i take care of ya. would ya like that mama? tell me sugar.” he’s baiting you, but you’re too cock drunk to care.

“yessss! yesyesyesyes! i’ll quit, i’ll do wha’ever toji jus please don’t stop” your eyes are crossing and your toes are curling. it’s quite shocking how toji can turn such a bratty girl like you into such a submissive and mailable mess.

but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“‘kay baby. i won’t stop. not gonna till i fill ‘er up. make ya a mama. oh! yer lil pussy must reallyyy like that idea, she tightened up on me, hehe” he says. but his strokes are getting sloppier by the second, so you know he’s close too.

without a second thought, toji sticks his thumb in your mouth and you automatically suck on it. he pulls it out with a ‘pop’ and rubs tiny circles on your clit. it makes your legs shake while you attempt to close them despite toji’s body being in the way.

he grabs your face with his other hand and kisses you deeply, tongue swiping over your bottom lip before entering your mouth. at this point, the two of you are moaning and whining into each others mouths like some horny teens.

it’s amazing how your neighbors haven’t complained about the noise yet.

toji removes his mouth from yours and buries his head in your neck, “gonna cum baby. want it inside?” his voice is gravely and his thrusts are getting harder by the second.

“yes toji! wan’ it inside me!” you manage to whine out.

didn’t have to tell him twice, “okay baby, g’nna give it to ya- ah- fuck! there ya go baby. there ya fuckin go. take it all”. he’s cumming so hard that his jaw locked, forcing him to talk through his teeth. his hands pry your legs open as far as they can go, trying to savor as much of you as he can before the sensitivity kills him.

you can feel the warmth from his cum shoot deep into you, which triggers your fourth orgasm of the night. the two of you are mindlessly grinding against each other while riding out your highs. toji making note to not drop his full weight onto you, but hold you close, which results in you being elevated slightly off the bed.

soon after, you can feel toji set you down gently and lay on top of you. hes stroking your hair and wiping your tears away until he hears you let out a loud breath.

“ya back with me mama?” voice laced with concern.

“m’okay now toji.” you say with a slightly shakey voice. your hand comes up to brush some of his hair out from in front of his eyes.

toji sits back on his knees, still inside you, and examines your face and upper body for any signs of him being too rough.

“was scared i hurt ya. i know i can get a lil too rough at times” he says while rubbing your boobs gently.

you let out a small laugh and adjust yourself on the bed, causing your hips to move back slightly on toji’s dick. he tries not to hiss at the feeling but his brain has turned to mush again and now all he can think about is how good you smell. “you’re never too rough toji. i’d tell you if you were”. you say with such a sweet and gentle smile, meanwhile toji feels like a fucking rabid animal.

and suddenly, he’s laying on top of you again, kissing and sucking on your neck. his hands have moved back down to your thighs where they’ve begun to push your legs back.

his head knocks into your jaw and he licks the side of your mouth. his body is burning hot and he’s running low on stamina, but he can’t help himself.

“good. cause m’still hard”.

[obitohno]

first-time dad! keigo who presses his lips to the swollen curve of your stomach with the promise to give his unborn offspring the childhood that he never had.

first-time dad! keigo who tries—and fails—to be subtle with his pandering, often waking you in the middle of the night when your breath pauses for a second too long, brows knitted with worry.

first-time dad! keigo who accompanies you to hospital appointments, and stares at the monitor, glossy-eyed and enamoured by the tiny thump, thump, thump of his baby’s heartbeat.

first-time dad! keigo who, later that night, burrows beneath the covers with you by his side, and dreams of the future that is to come, the spread of his palm warming your skin as he nuzzles at your pulse.

first-time dad! keigo who frequently litters your changing body with affection, the press of his fingers gentle as he tests the weight of your milk-laden breasts, humming an answering moan when you keen the syllables of his name.

first-time dad! keigo who is determined to show you just how much he adores the marks that stretch along the expanse of your hips and the patch of curls that have taken home between your legs now that you can no longer reach to tame them.

first-time dad! keigo who makes love to you on the nights that sleep evades you, chuckling when the mood is broken when he titters a calming symphony that has your unborn babe responding in kind with a swift kick to your ribs.

first-time dad! keigo who taps the tips of his fingers to your belly, irises gleaming the colour of liquid gold with unabashed excitement that renders him giddy, because, fuck, he can’t wait to meet you.

first-time dad! keigo who, despite his meticulous preparations, finds that, actually, he isn’t at all ready for when the day of your child’s birth finally arrives, horror paling his cheeks a worrying shade of white when your waters break.

first-time dad! keigo who looks a little green, overwhelmed with a flurry of mind-reeling emotions when he smoothes away the sweat-soaked hairs that stick to your forehead as the crooks of your fingers tighten around his own, straining as you finally bless him with the perfect bundle of joy.

first-time dad! keigo who, whilst you slip into the arms of slumber, counts ten tiny fingers and ten minuscule toes before he’s then blinded by his own affections that roll down the apples of his cheeks in rivets, a singular droplet landing on the tip of a perfectly small nose.

first-time dad! keigo who brushes his lips to the wisps of those finely curled hairs that match the colour of his own, greedily inhaling the new scent of life that intermingles with the taste of freshly fed milk. and there, he whispers a promise of an unconditional love that wasn’t gifted to him until the day he met you.

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

[doumidas-whumps]

shanghai rummy (part 1)

masterlist / part 2

Sonny meets his master's friends.

this is before sonny came into mr. oz's hands. a whole lotta backstory.

cw: BBU/pet whump, kneeling on rice (that's right another rice related punishment), non consensual touching (not sexual)

A couple of ice cubes hit the edge of the tray and bounced to the floor, scattering across the tile. “Damn it,” he muttered.

Sonny could feel the exact moment his mistress directed her sharp gaze at him, almost like a sixth sense. “Clean that up,” she snapped. “And watch your mouth. Honestly. How hard is it not to drop everything?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” came his automatic reply. He picked the ice up with his bare hands, feeling the cold wet shock on his fingertips. He tossed them into the sink and swiped a paper towel over the floor. 

As he straightened back to standing, Ms. Han looked over her shoulder. “Did you wipe the floor? I don’t want wet socks.” 

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

She went back to ignoring him and continued arranging her charcuterie board, which Sonny much preferred. She seemed to revel in criticizing him, and her bite was even worse than her bark. 

Her slaps may sting, but they didn’t bother him much. They weren’t even close to what he endured in training. Her true punishments were deceptively harmless and usually humiliating. Last week she made him kneel on uncooked grains of rice. He couldn’t even remember what he’d done to deserve it.

He had been confused when she made him change into shorts, and upon returning downstairs he was only confused further by the pile of rice on the living room floor, starkly white against the glossy brown finish. She ordered him to kneel on it. Forty-five minutes. He thought it was stupid at first, but he realized what he was in for as soon as he set all of his weight onto his knees. It hurt like hell, and what made it worse was when she had him hold his arms straight out in front of him and placed a heavy dictionary on them. It wasn’t even a minute before his arms started aching. 

She stayed in the room most of the time to keep an eye on him. She put on a record and busied herself with her latest embroidery project while Sonny suffered in the corner. He tried distracting himself with the scratchy tunes from the record player, but they weren’t much help. It was agony.

At one point she left to do something else and Sonny took the opportunity to lower his arms— carefully, so the dictionary wouldn’t hit the floor with a thump that would surely give him away. It was a welcome reprieve, but it only made it harder to raise them up again when he heard her approaching footsteps. 

Eventually she took pity on him, only because his arms had started to tremble so violently that the book might fall off. She put it back on the shelf and let his arms hang at his sides. They were sore from wrist to shoulder. Most of his attention went to the pain of his knees, which by that point felt like two burning open wounds. Sweat prickled all down his neck. 

His master came home not long before the forty-five minutes was up. When he saw Sonny kneeling there in the corner all he said was, “What did you do this time?”

Sonny remembered how his face burned. He had almost expected him to put a stop it, to tell his wife she was wrong for doing this to him, but he said no such thing. He stayed there for as long as Ms. Han wanted him to. He was embarrassed his master even saw him like that, with his red face and rice-dimpled knees. He tried so hard to please him, and most of the time he thought he succeeded. Not with Ms. Han, though. She was frustrating. She was impossible to please.

Sonny pulled himself out of the memory, emptying the rest of the ice cubes into the tray. He refilled the mold with water and carefully carried it to the freezer, not letting a single drop spill over the sides. Right as he closed the freezer, his master wandered into the kitchen.

“How’s it going?” 

“What do you think of my spread?” asked Ms. Han. 

Mr. Han peered over her shoulder at the arrangement of cheeses and meats. “Looks good,” he said. Sonny doubted he had much of an opinion, but the answer seemed to satisfy her.

“Have you vacuumed the carpet yet?” he asked Sonny.

“I was just about to,” he said. “I did the ice cubes already.” 

“Great. Thanks, son,” he gave Sonny a firm pat on the back as Ms. Han sighed heavily. “He’s not your son,” she said. It seemed like they were always rehashing this.

“I know that. It’s a term of endearment,” Mr. Han said. “I don’t know why you have such a problem with it.”

“Because I swear you treat him better than you treat your actual children.”

He seemed to contemplate this. “He doesn’t disappoint me as often as they do.”

Ms. Han sighed again and Sonny unsubtly coughed and wiped at his mouth, trying to hide his smile. He hadn’t yet met any of their three adult children, but his master had told him plenty of things about them.

Ms. Han whipped her head around. “I can hear you laughing.”

The grin slid off his face. “Sorry, ma’am.”

———

His master and his friend Manuel were in the backyard admiring the new grill Mr. Han bought a few days ago. Mr. Han left Sonny with instructions to open the door for his two other friends who should be arriving shortly. “And for God’s sake,” his mistress had added, “Don’t let Klaus track mud inside the house.”

He had just finished vacuuming the living room carpet and was busy winding up the cord when there were a few rattling bangs at the door, like someone was slamming their entire fist against it. Sonny poked his head into the foyer. Through the slim frosted glass windows on either side of the door he could see the hazy silhouette of someone outside. They seemed to see him, too, or at least a blob of color that was him, because it looked like the silhouette waved. 

He opened the door, revealing the man on the doorstep. The first thing Sonny noticed was the large cowboy hat on his head. The man seemed a little taken aback to see him, dark eyebrows raised above his pale eyes. “Well, look who it is! You’re the new boy.” His nose was sharp and crooked, and he had a pale scar on his lip extending into his short brown beard, a mark where hair didn’t grow.

“Yessir, that’s me.” Sonny opened the door wider and stepped to the side. The man took this as an invitation to come in, stepping on the mat. Sonny eyed the streaks of mud left by his boots. This must be Klaus. “You can leave your shoes by the door, sir,” he said.

Klaus looked down at his boots. “Oh, yeah. They both got pissed at me last time.” He removed his hat and hung it on a row of hooks, then stepped out of his boots and kicked them to the side. Sonny resisted cringing at the scuff left on the wall. 

“Is Manny here already? I thought I saw his truck.” 

“Yes, sir. He’s in the back with Mr. Han. I can take you to them, if you’d like.”

“Nah, that’s alright.” He padded past Sonny in the direction of the living room. Sonny followed him.

“Would you like something to drink, sir?”

“I could go for a beer.”

Sonny went to retrieve one from the kitchen. Ms. Han was absent, and her charcuterie board was sitting in the fridge covered by a loose sheet of plastic wrap. When he returned to the living room, Klaus was reclined in one of the armchairs and had his feet up on the ottoman. His sock had a hole in it, revealing a small circle of white skin on the ball of his foot.

Sonny tried to hand him the beer, but Klaus didn’t extend his arm to meet him. It remained relaxed on the arm of the chair. Sonny had to step around the ottoman to press it into his waiting hand. 

As Sonny stepped backwards, Klaus suddenly jerked forward and his other hand shot out, pinching Sonny’s soft side. Sonny jumped away, nearly stumbling over his own feet. His hand flew to cradle underneath his ribs where Klaus pinched him. It was still cold from the can of beer, cold enough to feel through his thin shirt.

Klaus was laughing. Sonny stared at his flashing white teeth. It reminded him of one of the handlers who liked to put his hands on him. He always found his startled reactions hilarious. Sonny could never stop his eyes from going wide. He still felt the phantom press of fingers.

“I’m just messin’ with ya,” Klaus said between laughs. “Don’t be mad at me.”

Sonny only backed away further, closer to the vacuum that was still sitting abandoned in the middle of the room. He needed to finish with the cord, then he could take it with him and leave.

Klaus seemed unvexed by his lack of response and pulled up the tab on his beer, cracking it open. He took his first sip, peering at Sonny over the can with his blue eyes. 

Sonny crouched and grabbed the cord, trying to conceal his shaking hand. 

“So,” Klaus said. “Do you have a name?”

“Mr. Han calls me Sonny,” he said without looking up. It wasn’t exactly his name. It was more like a nickname that stuck. Mr. Han took so long trying to decide what to name him that he never really ended up getting named at all. 

“Sunny? Like sunshine?”

“No sir,” Sonny said. “Like…” Like someone’s kid? “Spelled with an O.”

“Ahhh… empty nest syndrome.” A few months ago, before Sonny arrived, Mr. Han’s youngest child left for her first year at college all the way in California. Mr. Han had mentioned this offhand, then regarded Sonny strangely. “You’re probably about the same age,” is what hesaid. Sonny had been thinking the same thing. He imagined what it would be like if he was the one going to California instead. He tried picturing what it would be like to stand on the beach and see the Pacific Ocean with his own two eyes.

“So, what are you supposed to be? Like, a butler or something?”

“I’m a domestic companion trained to perform various household tasks.”

“Damn. Okay. Fancy.” Sonny finished looping the cord on the vacuum and heard Klaus take another sip of his drink. “I haven’t introduced myself yet,” he said. “I’m Klaus.” 

Sonny finally looked at him. He was holding his hand out like he expected Sonny to get up and shake it. Sonny made no move to do that. “C’mon,” Klaus said. “I promise I won’t pinch ya again.” He winked. 

Knowing it was incredibly rude to refuse a handshake, and that it was a punishable offense, Sonny resigned himself and rose to his feet. Just as he was about to cross the room, Mr. Han and Manuel entered. Klaus dropped his hand.

“Hey,” Mr. Han greeted. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Your pet opened the door for me.”

Sonny caught Manuel’s eyes bounce between them. “Are you being nice?” he asked.

Klaus shot him an exaggerated smile, showing off all of his weirdly white teeth. “Me and Sonny are getting along great. Ain’t that right, Sonny?”

An automatic, “Yes, sir.” Not really.

“Cute name, by the way,” Klaus said.

Manuel huffed and Mr. Han cast a sidelong glance at Sonny.Sonny hunched into himself a little, feeling like he shouldn’t have told Klaus. But what else could he have said?

“It’s a nickname,” said Mr. Han.

“Uh-huh.”

Three crisp knocks sounded through the house. All four of them perked up. “That must be Parsa,” Mr. Han said. To Sonny, “Would you get the door?”

Sonny dipped his head in a bow and obliged, heading to the foyer. He was grateful to escape the room, though he still needed to put that damn vacuum away. 

The sun had fully set since he let Klaus in, but the porch light was on. He could see Parsa’s dark silhouette through the window. He opened the door. 

The guy had to be at least six feet tall, if not taller, meaning Sonny had to tilt his head up to look him in the face. His deep-set eyes were in shadow, but Sonny could see them give him a once-over, bottom to top. He suppressed the shiver that wanted to wash over him. 

“Hello,” Parsa said. He looked over Sonny’s shoulder in the direction of the living room. The muffled voices of the others floated through. “Am I late?”

“No, sir. Mr. Klaus just arrived a few minutes ago.” Sonny stepped aside so Parsa could come in and shut the door behind him. Parsa slipped his shoes off without needing to be asked, neatly placing them beside Klaus’ mud-caked boots. He made no move to go further into the house. He just stood and watched Sonny, who was feeling more awkward by the second.

“The rest of them are in the living room,” he said.

“Hold on. I want to talk to you.” Oh, Jesus. “So you’re Dave’s new pet?”

“Yessir.”

“How much did he pay for you?”

“Uh.” That wasn’t a question he was expecting. “I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry. You could ask him.”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously I could ask him if I wanted to. What company do you come from? Are you from that W.R.U. place?”

“No, sir.” And thank God for that. Sonny had known a few transfers from there and the consensus seemed to be that their training was even worse than it was in the Barn, which Sonny had a hard time even imagining. That, and one of the W.R.U. guys he knew had a serious superiority complex. So fuck that guy. “I’m a product of W-Barn.”

Parsa’s head bobbed in a nod. “What’re you trained for?”

“I’m a domestic companion trained to perform various household tasks.”

“I see.” Parsa stared at him impassively for a few uncomfortable seconds. “You can call me Mr. Osmani. Or Mr. Oz, for short. That’s what my own boy calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” Mr. Osmani it is. Sonny didn’t want to associate in any way with belonging to him. 

part 2

———

taglist: @ziptiesnfries

[alwaysonthemend]

Author's Note: This fic is inspired by a conversation I had with @jakeyt and I am delighted to share some dom Jake with you all. The entire premise of this fic is all from @jakeyt 's beautiful mind so you all have her to thank for this. Sorry for any typos/mistakes

Warnings: Fem!reader, rough sex, unprotected sex, p in v sex, pussy slapping (no I'm not ashamed) extreme edging, thoughts of using safe word. 18+ only MINORS DNI

Word Count: 4189

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

He’s like a different person up there on stage. Gone is the stoicism. Gone is the quiet. Up there, he’s nothing less than a rock god – shredding on his guitar and dripping with talent and sex. He’s a master of his craft. And the thing is, he knows that he is. He knows what he’s doing – causing so many thousands of thighs to clench and hearts to race. And he gets off on it. 

This was something that you discovered quickly after beginning your relationship with Jake. You’d always assumed that he was quiet – bashful even at times. But all that goes away the moment he steps foot in front of a crowd. Fleeting glances towards the big screen displaying his lewd movements and faces to thousands proves to you that he knows (and enjoys) what he’s doing. 

You’d be a liar if you said you don’t enjoy it too. Seeing him so confident, so sure in his abilities and sex appeal, sets a fire between your legs like nothing else. 

Tonight is a little different though. When normally before a show he’s touchy and excited – pressing eager kisses to your lips and eyes sparkling with excitement... tonight had been nothing but stony silence before he went out. You’d been arguing all day – something petty and childish that the both of you had blown way out of proportion, trading passive aggressive remarks and glances all day. You’re not even sure how it started at this point. 

And now you could see first hand how all that frustration had built up inside of him. He’s acting feral up there and the crowd is going absolutely insane. 

From your place on side stage, you can clearly see that he’s working himself up as he plays – something that he so often does. Tiny little shifts of his hips against the guitar… never enough to draw suspicion. But you know. You know him. And you know what his face looks like when he’s turned on. 

There isn’t much longer left of the show and you can tell that he’s wound tight as a drum. His hair, once brushed and glossy, now lies stringy and messy the way it is after the two of you fuck. His face and chest are flushed and beads of sweat drip down his face onto his chest and stomach. He’s sweat completely through his jacket and fuck that just turns you on even more. He’s giving it all he’s got – leaving everything out on that stage. 

Just as his second to last solo ends, his brows furrow and he glances back towards his tech. You squint your eyes, trying to see what’s the matter. He yells something to the tech but you can’t hear anything over Danny’s drums. 

Finally you see what the problem is after he yanks his guitar strap over his head, a singular guitar string swinging helplessly beneath it. He snapped a string. 

Unconsciously, your thighs squeeze together again. He’s going to be pissed. You can see it on his face already. And that means trouble for you… the most delicious type of trouble. 

As if sensing your arousal, Jake’s eyes snap to you and track the movement. As his eyes pan upwards to meet yours, the look that he gives you is just nasty. Unbridled anger and lust all mixed together in a dangerous cocktail. 

His tech brings him his number two in seconds and he looks away, able to carry on as if nothing happened – you doubt many in the crowd even noticed. But Jake is pissed. You can see it in his face and in the way he tears into the next song with reckless abandon. 

And now, you can see that he’s hard in his pants. His thrusts into his guitar are more bold, sliding his length against the poor instrument. Anger, you’ve found, so often bleeds into desperate arousal for Jake. He’s always pent up after a show – getting off on the way he’s affecting his fans. But anger morphs into something damn near animalistic in your normally sweet boyfriend. And as much as you hate for things to go wrong for him, you can’t help the excitement thrumming through your body at the thought of what’s to come.

-⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️-

He meets you in the green room afterwards. He’s drenched in sweat and practically seething as he enters the room to find you waiting for him. His eyes pin you to the spot, rendering you unable to do anything but stand there and wait for him to tell you what he wants. Fear and lust swirl around inside you as you wait for him to speak. 

He shifts on his feet, subtly adjusting himself in his pants. 

“Go back to the hotel and wait for me.” His voice is low and cold – sharp as he directs you. 

“W-what?” That takes you off guard. You’ve fucked in dressing rooms, green rooms, and bathrooms after shows. And when you do go back to your hotel room (which isn’t often as he can rarely wait that long) he goes with you. This is uncharted territory, 

“I said,” he bites out venomously, “go back to the hotel and wait.”

You nod, ungluing your feet from the floor and slowly making your way to the door. His eyes follow you, not moving away from you once as you slide past him out into the hallway. He makes no move to follow you as you walk away and by the time you’ve left the venue and gotten in an Uber to take you back, confusion has replaced the need that you’d been feeling all day.

When you finally arrive, you trudge your way to the elevator and hit the button, thoughts anxiously racing as you try and wrack your brains to figure out what made him act so differently tonight. Shaking your head from your thoughts, you exit the elevator and walk to your door. You pull out your key card and step inside, immediately toeing off your shoes and tossing your purse and jacket onto your bedside table. 

You’re not sure what to do. He’d given you no indication as to how long he’d be and you don’t want to piss him off any more than he already is. You strip from your clothes and change into nothing but an old t-shirt of Jake’s and slip under the covers, content to wait for his return.  

Minutes turn into an hour. 

That hour turns into two. 

And two turns into two and a half and you're worried that he’s not going to come back at all. He’d been pent up, sure. But maybe he was angrier at you than you had thought. That plus his guitar string snapping probably had him alight with rage. 

Sighing, you reach over and turn off the light and sink further into the covers, allowing your tiredness and defeat to pull you into sleep. 

-⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️-

The lamp turning on drags you back into consciousness. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and mumbling out a confused noise as you try and figure out what’s going on. 

As the spiderwebs leave your sleep-addled brain, you finally see Jake standing next to the bed. His suit is gone and he’s wearing nothing but tight black boxers. His face is angry and determined, looking down at you in thinly veiled frustration and lust. 

“Jake?" You ask, sitting up further in the bed. “Where the fuck were you? I was worried!” You scold him, your own frustration bleeding into your tone. 

“So worried you fell asleep?” He fires back in a snarky tone. 

You roll your eyes and go to lay back down but he grabs your wrist and yanks you back upwards harshly. 

“Jake!” You yell, taken aback by his roughness with you. 

“That’s not my name tonight, angel.” He says darkly, eyes glittering in the dim lamplight. “Understand?” 

“Yes sir.” You squeak out. You sweep your eyes downward and finally see what lays clenched in his other hand. 

A guitar string. 

Your eyes widen at the sight and your heart begins to pound. He notices the line of your gaze and smirks. 

“My two most beloved things in the world decided to piss me the fuck off tonight.” He starts, releasing your wrist and delicately caressing your cheek with his fingertips. “Which means that I have to ask you a very important question.” He hedges, hooking your chin with his index finger and turning your face upwards towards him. 

“What’s your question?” You ask in a tiny voice, afraid to push him any further than he already is. 

“Do you remember your safe word, angel?” 

“Gibson, sir.” 

“Good girl. Take your shirt off.”

You concede, ripping the material over and off your head and tossing it somewhere in the room. 

Jake takes another step towards the bed and grabs your wrists, effortlessly manhandling them so that your arms are above your head. 

“Hold still.” He tells you, and you obediently keep your arms where he put them as he pulls his hand away. 

Taking the guitar string, Jake loops it around both your wrists in a figure eight, cinching the cord tightly so that your wrists are pressed together. 

“Too tight?” 

You shake your head, slick beginning to flood between your thighs at the feeling of being bound. Jake loops the other end of the string around the headboard and pulls, causing the muscles in your arms to extend completely as he ties the string. He takes a step back to survey his work. The sight of you, arms completely extended and bound above your head, draws a groan from between his plush lips. 

“I’ve got one rule for you tonight, angel.” He says, walking around the bed and making his way to his suitcase. He unzips it and begins rifling through his things. “You don’t get to cum until I say. If I decide that you’ve earned it.”

You nod again and watch as he finds what he’s looking for. The quietest of gasps escapes you as he holds up his prize. He clicks the button and your vibrator hums to life. You thought you’d concealed it from him. The last time you’d come along on tour with him, he’d taken a particular liking to teasing you with it, and you’d hidden it in the hopes that he’d forget about it. Clearly, you’d been very mistaken. 

“Thought you hid this from me didn’t you?” He asks, stalking back towards the bed like a lion seeking out its prey. You squirm, anticipation filling you. 

“How did-”

“Did I find it?” He interrupts, crawling into the bed and settling himself between your legs. “You seem to forget..” He slides the vibrating toy up your inner thigh, building up the tension within you. “I know you too well, sweet girl. And I’m not letting you get off that easily.”

Without warning, he presses the toy onto your throbbing clit and the sudden sensation has you arching up off the bed and moaning loudly. 

“Fuck!” You cry, eyes screwing shut at the overwhelming sensation. 

Mercilessly, Jake begins to circle your clit with the vibrator, pressing into your bundle of nerves with relentless focus and attention. 

“All fucking day you’ve been testing my patience.” His voice is low – almost a growl, as he speaks to you. “It’s like you enjoy pushing my buttons any chance you get.” 

“You were being dramatic.” You manage to say between moans, and Jake’s eyes blaze with anger as he presses the toy harder into your clit. 

“That’s how you wanna play, angel?”

You don’t answer, overwhelmed by the white hot pleasure coursing through you. 

“Answer.” He tells you, circling the toy faster. 

You can’t. The feeling of the vibrations on your clit as he circles the toy is too much for your body to handle and any coherent thoughts have long since flown out the window. You open your mouth – to answer his question or to tell him that you’re close, you’re not sure. But as soon as you open your mouth to speak, a loud high-pitched cry escapes you instead. You’re on the edge, so so close to falling over. You need it… badly. You’ve been wanting it all day. Deciding to test your luck, you stay silent as you reach the crest of orgasm. 

Crack

The sting between your legs makes a loud, pornographic moan bubble up from your throat as Jake slaps his palm against your throbbing cunt. He didn’t slap you overly hard, but hard enough to leave you dazed. You stare at him, mouth hung open in shock. 

“You think I can’t tell when you’re about to cum?” Jake’s voice is ice cold and dangerous, causing you to gulp as he glares at you. “Remember, angel: I know you. And I told you not to cum without me telling you to.” 

“I’m sorry, sir.” You say meekly. And you are. The look in his eye is damn near sinister. 

“Not good enough.” He says, tossing the toy to the side. 

You can tell by the look on his face and the sound of his voice that you’ve really fucked up now, and you’re quick to try and remedy the situation. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jake.” The apologies spew from your lips like prayers and you barely even register what you’re saying – your second mistake of the night. 

“Strike two.” 

Crack 

This time, the blow is a little harder, causing tears to prick the corners of your eyes. 

“That’s not my name tonight, as I already told you earlier.” He shakes his head, and you could cry at the disappointment covering his face. Directing his attention downwards, Jake eyes the mess between your thighs. “You like this, don’t you? When I treat you like the little whore that you are?”

“Yes sir, I do.” You whine, wriggling your hips in the hopes that it will entice him to give you what you want. 

“Look at you.” He swipes the pad of his finger through your dripping folds, humming appreciatively. “Your pussy is dripping.” 

“It’s all for you, sir.” You pant, shoulders beginning to ache after being suspended for so long. 

“You’re my little whore, aren’t you?” 

You nod your head vigorously. 

“I wanna spoil this pretty pink pussy so badly.” He says with sadness, as if he really is disheartened that he has to punish you. “But you’ve been such a terrible girl all day long, haven’t you?”

You don’t glorify him with an answer as one of his long, talented fingers finally enters you. He curls it upwards, brushing your g-spot and making you moan loudly. 

“You’re squeezing my fingers so tightly.” He tells you, adding another finger and curling it along with the other. 

You moan louder as he picks up his pace, fucking you with his fingers in the way that only he can. It’s like liquid fire is coursing through your veins – your entire world shrinking down to nothing but him and his fingers. His thumb presses into your clit and begins to rub tight circles, thrusting your body quickly back to the edge. 

“Sir...” You pant breathlessly, “I’m close.” 

“Already?” The smugness in his voice is obvious and the smile that graces his lips is cocky. He’s an arrogant little shit when it comes to how good he is with his fingers. 

“Such a shame.” He adds nonchalantly, pulling his fingers from you and wiping them on the sheets. 

You toss your head back and uselessly tug on your restraints. You’re wound so tight you feel like you could explode. 

“You’re shaking. Something wrong?” Jake asks, grinning from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas morning. 

“Jake- sir, please.” 

“Almost.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. “But not quite yet.” 

Without warning, Jake thrusts his fingers back into you, curling them deliciously and brushing your sweet spot with each movement. He’s watching your face, studying the way your expressions shift and  contort with each movement of his fingers. The wet sounds accompanying each movement are almost comically pornographic, but you’re far too gone to really notice. 

Without letting up with his fingers, Jake lowers his body down so that he’s resting his torso on the mattress between your legs. As soon as his hips touch the bed, he lets out a groan – no doubt enjoying the pressure on his cock. He’s edging himself too, you realize. Jake gets off on watching you, and you’re giving him the show of a lifetime with the way you’re moaning and crying with reckless abandon. 

Jake leans in and wraps his lips around your throbbing clit, suckling and swirling his tongue as his fingers continue to fuck into you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You wail, jerking your bound wrists and thrashing your head from side to side. 

He hums a laugh into your heat and the vibration is almost too much. 

“Fuck, stop! Please stop. I can’t!” 

Once again, Jake pulls away and allows you a moment to catch your breath. 

“Had enough yet?” Jake asks with a shit eating grin. “That’s how many orgasms that you haven’t gotten to have?”

“Three, sir.” Your voice is coarse and shaky, strained from the moans that he’s been pulling from you. You’re sweaty and exhausted, and the desperation and need to cum is reaching the point of being unbearable. 

“That’s right. Three orgasms that you could have had if you hadn’t been so terrible today. The first one,” he mutters while picking up the vibrator again, “was for our argument earlier. The second,” he clicks the button and the toy whirs to life again, “for your snarky little comments you’ve been throwing at me all day.” The toy hovers dangerously close to your clit, just barely not touching and you fight to hold still as your body wants to recoil from the inevitable overwhelming sensation. “Do you know what the third one is for?” 

You shake your head, focus still glued to how close the vibrator is to your swollen, abused clit. 

“No.” 

“You sure?” Jake asks, finally pressing the toy into you. 

You let out an agonized scream at the feeling. You’ve been on edge so long and the pleasure from earlier has morphed into a red hot need – dangerously close to bleeding into more pain than pleasure. 

“Your guitar string snapping?” You can barely get your mouth to form the words and you’re quickly nearing a threshold of desperation that you’ve never entered before. 

“Nope.” He says, popping the ‘p’ as he says the word. 

“Fuck I don’t know! I don’t know!” You yell, clenching your teeth as your legs begin to shake.

“Yes you do. Think back. And remember,” he presses the toy even harder and you’re beginning to debate whether or not you need to use your safeword. “I. Know. You.” 

You need to cum so badly and real tears are starting to stream down your face. It’s too much and not enough and the room is starting to turn black around the edges as you finally concede, the confession slipping past your lips in a broken, tiny little voice. 

“I made you mad on purpose.” 

Immediately, he brings the toy away from your cunt and clicks it off. 

“I know, angel.” He says, placing the toy on the mattress next to you and rubbing his palms up your thighs. “But I want to hear you say it again.”

“I made you mad on purpose.” You repeat, body thrumming with pent up lust and adrenalin. 

“Why did you piss me off on purpose, baby?” He asks, voice saccharine and deceivingly soft. 

“Because you’re so-” You cut yourself off, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. 

“Tell me.” He demands, digging his fingers into the plush skin of your thigh. 

“Because you’re sexy when you’re mad. And I wanted you to fuck me.” You finally spit out, shame flooding your body as you finally admit to having started this whole thing for the sake of getting a good fuck. It’s childish. You know it is. But sometimes the itch becomes so unbearable that you have to try and get it satisfied somehow. And making Jake angry is the quickest way to get what you want. 

Sensing your shift in mood, Jake smooths his palms over your thighs again, gently tracing circles into your skin with his calloused fingertips. 

“You know you can just ask, baby. You don’t have to piss me off to get it hard like this.” 

Emboldened by his comforting words, you give him the brattiest little smirk that you can muster. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

And just like, he slips back into his role. 

“What am I gonna do with you, angel?” He asks, reaching up to untie the guitar string from your wrists and the headboard. “Get on your fucking knees.” 

You scramble to comply, rising as quickly as you can despite your body’s protests, and settle onto your knees

“Hands behind your back.” He demands. 

You whine at his request but do it anyway. 

“Wanna touch you.” The sentence sounds desperate and needy as it leaves your mouth, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You need to cum. More than you ever had before and at this point you’ll do anything to get it. 

“Too bad.” He says, binding your wrists again so that they’re stuck behind your back. 

Jake yanks his boxers down and you can’t help but to stare as you finally get to see his cock for the first time tonight. He looks so hard – the skin red and shiny, and his tip glistens with precum. 

“You cum after me, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” 

He presses his palm into the middle of your back and pushes, effectively knocking you face first into the mattress. He grips your hips and yanks upwards, pressing your face farther into the mattress while your ass sticks up in the air. 

Finally, he sinks his length into you all the way to the hilt and the both of you moan loudly at the feeling.

“Fuck, you feel good.” He groans as he uses both hands to grip your ass in a bruising hold. 

Immediately, he’s slamming into you with so much force it’s all you can do to just lay there and take it. His groans are rough and deep and his hips slam into your thighs hard. Using his grip on you, he pulls your hips back to meet his thrusts, and the feeling is so overwhelmingly good and your mind is fogged over with your need for him. 

This was what you wanted. The pleasure that only he can give you. No man has ever been able to make you feel the way Jake makes you feel and you’re desperate for him all the damn time. 

With each pound of his hips, you let out a moan – so high-pitched and loud that you’d probably be embarrassed if you weren’t so lost to the pleasure.

“Jake…” You warn, your long awaited orgasm barrelling towards you at the speed of fucking sound. 

“I know, angel. I’m so close. Fuck.” He lets go of your hip with one hand and reaches around in front of you to rub frenzied circles against your clit. 

“Oh fuck. I’m so close. Please.” His voice is wrecked, breathless and broken as he falls apart. His pace hasn’t slowed, his stamina allowing him to keep slamming into you at a speed that’s making your head spin. The sound of his pleading – the neediness of it, has you so close to cumming you can taste it. His dominant side has completely bled away – just as it always does when he’s about to cum. 

“Do it, angel. Give it to me. Oh fuck!” 

You can’t stop it now. Your orgasm slams into you like a freight train – stealing the breath from your lungs as you completely fall apart. Distantly, you can hear his own sounds of release and you can feel him spill into you but it doesn’t register. It feels like it goes on for hours – wave upon wave of pleasure washing over you and drowning you in the feeling of release that you’d been denied for so long.

Like you’re watching it happen to someone else, you become aware of Jake delicately untying your hands and rubbing where your skin had become raw. 

He turns you over onto your back before collapsing onto you – allowing his body weight to settle on top of you. 

“Fuck.” He breathes into your ear, chest heaving and heart pounding.

“Mmmm.” You hum, closing your eyes and trying to come back to earth. 

“You okay?” He asks, swiping his sweaty hair from his face. 

You just hum at first, giving him as much of a smile as you can muster. 

“Fuck yeah.” You finally answer after your brain clears from the fog a little bit. 

“You’re a mess.” He says with a giggle, taking in your fucked out expression and glassy eyess. He literally fucked you stupid. 

“You still love me, though.” 

“Yeah I do, angel.”

------

if you're reading this, I love you! 💗

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[urdepressedslut]

Stray ❝part five❞

♡ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader/The Winter Soldier x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Time has passed, things are going well. You and Bucky get along. Not always creating conversation, but appreciating each other’s company.

♡ Warnings: fluff, angst, hallucinations, reader not understanding spicy feelings

Part 6

You counted in a soft song, six hundred and fifty four, six hundred and fifty five. With a skip in your step, you were about ten steps away from the crops. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinning, body fuzzy with warmth, the joy almost overwhelming.

Bucky had chosen to stay.

He probably would never understand how happy that small gesture made you. Finally not alone.

While your mind danced with thoughts of Bucky, you busied your hands, picking ingredients for lunch. Soon your bag was full, the weight heavy on your frail arm.

The sound of a twig snapping in the distance, caught your attention. Your head snapping towards the direction it came, you were met with the dense woods. The sight of greenery filling your vision. Your eyes danced around the area, the familiar feeling of paranoia creeping in. You immediately shook your head, dismissing the idea that you were being watched. Despite your heartbeat pounding in fear, you knew no one was brave enough to trek this far out.

It’s all in your head, It’s all in your head.

You mumbled to yourself in a mantra, hoping that you’d eventually believe it.

With a deep breath, you attempted to ground yourself, forcing your feet to start the trip back to the house. To Bucky. Ignoring the lingering feeling of eyes on you, you didn’t look back, keeping your gaze directed in front of you. Stepping in the flattened patches in the grass from you before.

A gentle breeze caressed your face, blowing your hair off your skin, your dress flaring behind you. Taking a deep breath in through your nose, you reveled in the cool feeling traveling down your throat. You shivered, the clamminess of your skin, drying from the wind.

It’s all in your head, It’s all in your head.

You mumbled to yourself again, letting Bucky take over your mind. Finding peace with only him in your thoughts. Mentally running your eyes over every curve, freckle, and crease on his face. Eager to see his reaction to your tasty lunch.

Well… Spolier: He loved it.

☆ 4 Months Later ☆

The summers were beginning to be unbearable, the humidity nasty, skin constantly layered with sweat. It was the first day of July, meaning it had been almost a full 4 months since Bucky decided to stay.

You and Bucky grew slightly closer within the months, to a solid point where you two considered each other friends. You both seemed to see the concept of friendship foreign, but didn’t run away from the feeling. For the most part, you kept to yourselves, occasionally eating dinner together in a comfortable silence.

You would always cook for him, making sure he had something to eat, but it was only a few moments where you ate together.

Both, you and Bucky didn’t always create conversation, instead appreciating the company that both of you brought to one another.

Within the 4 months, you couldn’t help but notice how bulky Bucky was getting. His muscles larger, him entirely just seeming thicker.

It was Bucky’s constant apologies that pushed you over the edge. No matter how many times you reassured him, that he didn’t need to help out around the house, he insisted that he feels he should do something. You weren’t going to give in so easily, but Bucky’s vulnerable moment had convinced you to come up with a job for him.

You remember Bucky’s glossy, red rimmed eyes as he tried to explain how useless he felt. His constant talk of of how he needed to prove himself.

Soon after that moment, you brainstormed ideas for what Bucky could do. Honestly, there wasn’t much to do, so you came up with something random, something to keep him busy.

You asked him to build a shed next to the house, big enough to fit a wagon. Bucky felt relieved that you’d given him a task— a job to do. Almost instantly, he felt like he had a place now.

You assumed that his back and fourth trips from the crops, where spare materials were kept, were the reason for his new physique. The heavy lifting bulking him up.

You had caught yourself a few times, staring out the window, watching the muscles in his back flex through his shirt.

You felt embarrassed every time you caught yourself gazing out the window, knowing you shouldn’t be looking at Bucky like that. You were unfamiliar with the crippling desire you started to feel. The feeling getting more intense the longer Bucky stayed. You pushed it down, assuming you were only adjusting to living with another person. But instead of the feeling fading away as time passed, it seemed to be growing deeper.

Despite your wild thoughts, life was peaceful. Both of you content with each other.

You sat in the living room, trying to read a book, but ended up staring at the wall, getting lost in your thoughts.

You were snapped out, when you heard the front door open and close, followed by footsteps and heavy breathing.

Closing the forgotten book, you turned to see Bucky standing in the doorway of the living room. A layer of sweat had his skin glowing, patches of sweats showing through his navy blue shirt.

“How’s the shed coming?” You asked him, curious as to when it would be done.

“It’s getting there.” He answered.

When he responded, you couldn’t help but see the difference in his appearance versus 4 months ago.

His eyes before were dull and haunted, and even though his eyes remained slightly glum, he had a new light within them.

His shoulders, which before used to be so tensed up, body almost stone from how rigid he stood. Now he swayed from foot to foot, almost rocking himself in a comfortable motion, his body almost sagging from how relaxed he was.

His hands before, used to be clenched into fists, his nails on his flesh hand cutting crescent shaped cuts into his palm. Now his hands hung beside him, palms open and resting against his thighs. Like there was never a drop of tension in his body.

You noticed these little things about him as time passed, and you couldn’t help yourself for feeling proud of him. Though you never said it, you thought a couple times maybe you should. Not knowing if it was something he’d be wanting to hear.

“Haven’t decided what I’m going to make for dinner yet, have any ideas?” You asked him.

Bucky thought for a moment, knowing that supplies were running low. You had yet to make a trip to the store, not needing to for months with food stocked up in the basement.

“What do we have left?” He asked.

You fought down a smile at him saying we. Happy that he was starting to see this home as his own.

“I know we are getting low on some stuff, I’ll restock soon.” You told him, dreading the moment where you had to go into town. Go into public. It was always an anxiety riddled day, which is why you had only done it once.

Bucky seemed to catch on to what you were inferring.

“I can go with you, if you want.” He offered, for some reason not liking the idea of you going alone. He also didn’t want to be left alone here at the house.

“I don’t want to risk you being seen.” You argued.

“I’ll wear a disguise, I’ll be careful.” He argued back, his voice on the verge on being desperate.

“It’s too dangerous.” You tried to convince him.

Bucky on the inside was overwhelmed with warmth, you trying to protect him had him feeling fuzzy. Also the idea of tiny you trying to protect him was an adorable thought, but it was appreciated.

“How long would you be gone?” He asked, panic already welling up inside him, the idea of you leaving him terrifying.

“Not long, I’ll be quick and back before you know it.” You told him, feeling the exact same panic of being separated from him.

Bucky chewed on the inside of his lip nervously.

“And you’ll come back?” He asked quietly, his voice wavering with fear.

Your heart broke at the sound of his voice, he sounded so tiny and afraid. You felt bad that you were the one to cause his distress, but you both couldn’t survive on the stock in the basement forever.

“Buck…” You spoke softly, “Of course I’ll come back.”

He looked at you, his eyes boring into yours, almost if he was trying to see if you were telling the truth. After he found only your genuine expression, he nodded shyly, lowering his gaze to the floor.

“Hey,” You spoke softly again, he looked up at you, “I’m not gonna leave you. I promise.”

You declared, wanting him to fully believe you. You’d never leave him, after he stayed for you 4 months ago. You couldn’t do that to him.

“Promise.” He whispered under his breath, almost if he were going to hold you to it. Hunt you down if you didn’t come back.

Deep down he knew you’d be back, he trusted you more than he should.

You smiled at him, watching his posture relax. Your words comforting him, your promise soothing his worries.

“For tonight, I can make grilled cheese and tomato soup. Have you ever had it?” You asked him.

Shaking his head no, you gasped dramatically.

“You’ve never had grilled cheese?! Okay well, let me just say… You’re going to love it.” You told him, your voice light and cheery.

Bucky watched you with a small smile on his face, your voice gentle and angelic.

“Can't wait to try it.” Was all he could say, his mind only focused on your face.

Taking in every detail, every freckle, every line. He was trying to paint it permanently into his memory. Never wanting to forget your face, if HYDRA did catch him one day.

☆

You stared at him with eagerness, eyes wide, waiting for his reaction.

Bucky tried to hold back a laugh at your goofiness, looking like a little kid opening presents on Christmas Day. You were beaming, and all he was doing was taking a bite out of some toast and cheese.

"You're dramatic." He stated, watching you roll your eyes.

"I'm excited." You corrected.

It was his turn to roll his eyes, and leaned in to take his first bite.

His eyes lit up in delight as soon as the flavor hit his tongue, you watched with bated breath, smiling when you saw his eyes sparkle. You were satisfied now.

"Now try it dipped in the tomato soup." You told him with a knowing grin.

He took his time chewing, relishing the flavor and taste. Wasting no time and dipping a corner of the grilled cheese into the soup. Again, his eyes widened in shock, like he had never tasted something so good— so delectable in his life.

"What's the verdict?" You asked him with a smirk, your own food abandoned in front of you, only interested in his reaction.

"It's... amazing." He shared, immediately dipping into the soup and taking another bite.

You felt bubbly, knowing you had made him happy. One of the reasons you enjoyed making food for him being his reactions, his appreciation, the praise you'd receive, even from just a bowl of cereal.

After a comfortable silence filled the room, the two ate in peace. Glancing up every now and then, making eye contact and sharing a little smile.

Bucky was nearly done with his helping, you slowly nibbling tiny bites, mind wandering, unfocused on the food in front of you.

The faintest thud from the front porch had you perking up, eyebrows furrowed in alert, while your body tensed up at the possible thought that there was someone outside. Dropping your grilled cheese, you excused yourself.

“Be right back.” You told him, missing the concerning look on his face when you walked away.

Walking out onto the porch, you scanned the area. Finding no other being in the area. Your fists clenched, nose burning from frustration. Your mind exhausted from all the tricks, all the illusions. It had sounded so real, and even now standing on the porch, you felt watched.

Walking over to the porch stairs, you plopped yourself down. Burying your face into your hands, quietly crying. You were tired of sensing this false reality, desperately wishing to be normal.

Without your knowledge, Bucky watched with worried eyes as he watched your body shake with sobs, from behind the screen door.

He had immediately followed you in stealthy steps when he watched you leave in such a haste, face painted with fear. Finding you curled into a ball on the front steps, he wondered what had you so upset. He wanted to know what the cause of your distress was. But you had yet to hint anything of that sort to him, keeping your life still a mystery.

He felt something blossoming inside of him, the urge to wrap his arms around you in protection overwhelming. He was not fond of touch, preferring to keep his distance.

So why was he struggling to hold himself back from running over to you?

A/N: hi cuties🤍 i didn’t forget about this story don’t worry, life’s been pretty stressful and busy lately is all. i have so many ideas and things coming soon to this story, im so excited and i hope y’all will like it!

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