#half of me wants to make him hot and cool and the other part of me wants it to be like his magic made him all fucked up visually

[gatorbites-imagines]

I am absolutely IN LOVE with the Gambit x sea monster mutant you did. Sea monster stories are my favorite thing EVER and it got me thinking about random little tidbits of Remy and leviathan��s life that I wanted to share

The first time Remy sees the sea serpent form he’s definitely a little scared and maybe a bit horny because hot DAMN. I can see him having a huge fixation on leviathan’s teeth, whether it’s the huge fucking chompers that could snap his spine in half or the human sized teeth that are a bit sharper than they should be

Remy placing a cute kiss on leviathan’s cheek while he’s in serpent form. He’s much smaller than him and leviathan can barely feel it, but he loves the gesture

Sex is definitely something that takes a bit to get used to. Leviathan’s skin is tougher than most and the first few times they do it, Remy finds himself having to do something skin aftercare due to the scaly version of beard burn. While I LOVE the idea of bottom Remy, I REALLY love the idea of him being in control. Leviathan is powerful and often finds that people expect him to take on a more dominant role in every day life so he LOVES being able to trust Remy to take care of him. It also gives Remy a HUGE ego boost, knowing that leviathan has that trust in him

Leviathan telling Remy all about the different sea life he encounters

Someone asks Remy about his jewelry and he proudly says “my boyfriend made it”

Remy Lebeau x Mutant male reader

Headcanons

Part two to a thing I wrote a while ago, which you can find here.

Finaly went on Christmas break, so I can hopefully sleep off this sickness I’ve been dealing with all week. How’s everyone else doing?

I imagine the first time you discovered that you could turn into a serpent was an accident. It was sometime during your time apart, where Remy was an X-man, and you were… doing whatever you were doing.

Maybe it was even during a fight with good ol Namor, who was pissed about some other being, entering his territory, since you carry such a powerful aura. The fighting came to a stop when you turned into a massive serpent.

It probably didn’t help your case that your serpent form had some waterproof feathers and was pretty damn colorful underwater. Or the fact that you could make rain, rainbows, extreme storms, so on and so forth.

After that Namor seemed to just accept you as his “brother”, in his own way… he was and is an arrogant ass, but he’s cool, if hed just stop his people from trying to worship you. At least Namor turned out to be a great help when it came to mastering your new serpent form.

After all of this, and you finally feel comfortable with it, you finally show it to Remy. At some point when he’s taking a break from the team or he’s just got some time off, that he spends near the sea since it’s close to you.

At this point you two arent dating, so Remy is very thankful for his coat, since it helps him cover the very sudden heavy pressure between his thighs when he watches you transform.

It’s not his fault is almost erotic, to him at least. Just the way your body lengthens, your muscles stretch and twist, how your scales grow and spread, and feathers burst out. The huge teeth bigger than his own body also has a lot of blood rushing south, something he doesn’t feel interested in exploring why.

He blames it on it being you.

It’s a very comical sight to see you two together around Krakoa most days, since you are very comfortable in the serpent form. So, it’s just you bobbing around outside the island, with Remy riding on top of your head.

Anyone with eyesight good enough can see Remy regularly leaning down to kiss the top of your scaley head, or how he wraps himself in the giant feathers.

But people also know not to look too closely, since Remy likes to… sunbathe up there. Or he says it’s sunbathing. And most days it is, but other days… well, its likely that it isn’t sunscreen splattered across his chest, and his twitching body and flushed appearance doesn’t help.

You almost always dump him into the ocean before putting him back on land, since he likes chilling up there for very long, and will give himself heatstroke doing so. This is where your feathers help, since they act as a parasol or cover at times.

It’s not as if you can feel much of what he does up there, since he’s sitting on top of your head and outside your field of vision. But just knowing he’s there, and sometimes smelling his more intimate actions makes your blood rush.

Remy also always demands kisses before going on missions, or you leaving for longer periods of time. This is both in your serpent form and your more human form, you better kiss him enough to make up for all the kisses he’s gonna miss when you’re apart.

I don’t think Remy does a whole lot of topping in the relationship, since he gets real hot and bothered about how big you are and how much you fill him. But he does do a lot of power bottoming.

He will never hear you complain though, since it allows you to lay back and watch as that half feral haze falls over Remy’s face, and his movements get rough and needy.

Even better if you purr or growl, flashing your teeth at him so it “seems” like you’re not just laying back and being lazy. You both know logically you could very easily throw him off and overpower him, but it makes Remy feel really good to be on top, and you feel good too when he does it, so why not.

Remy is very saddened that he can’t leave hickeys on you though, thanks to your scales, healing factor and just you being sturdy in general. You guys can’t even go with something more extreme like using a knife or leaving scars, since it heals up.

The closest you guys have ever gotten to a lasting hickey on you was after Remy spent hours sucking and biting at the same spot on the front of your neck, on a spot of skin without scales, and that faded after an hour or so.

Remy ends up having to cope, which results in him drawing on you instead with markers. He even finds ones he can use on your scales, and ones in colors that almost look like bruises. It’s not the same but its good enough.

I get the feeling the x-men have met Namor at some point, or will in the future. They don’t get why he’s extra sassy towards Remy, until you casually mention knowing him and how you guys fight on the regular as a “bonding activity”.

Apparently Namor is just mad that you’re dating someone from the surface since they all suck in his eyes, but you couldn’t care less. You love your Cajun.

You end up having to draw a lot of the sea creatures you see, since cameras can’t stand the pressure or see in the same way as your eyes, so Remy has a lot of those drawings saved in a folder. Hes debated on getting one or two tattooed.

He doesn’t know too much about the ocean, even after you guys have been together for a while, since very little is known about the ocean, but hes always curious and ready to listen.

There being a whole ocean people did freak him out for a bit, because obviously there were. There were literally people from space, so why not in the ocean? Them wanting to worship you at least got a good laugh and some flirty jokes out of him.

Speaking of Namors people. They would treat Remy better than other surface people, especially if he’s wearing jewelry made from your scales and feathers. They still don’t really like him, but they respect you so…

Remy is also definingly the kind to always wear the stuff you make him, he’s got multiple sets and many different pieces of jewelry. The feathers are most colorful and fit any outfit, but there are also normal stud earrings made from an old scale.

Remy likes wearing stuff you make him. But you also like seeing him wear it, since it puts your mark on him even if you hadn’t thought about that at the time.

[horrorslvts]

chris doesnt know how to change a tire 🤍

nsfw: car nsfw, no sex, switch chris and reader, female reader, breast play, making out, sweat, cum, fingering.

awful idea.

all of this was an awful idea.

you and chris wanted to celebrate him getting his drivers license by going on a trip to the beach with matt’s car. however, you didn’t think about the chance he would demolish his brothers car on your way back. now? youre wet, hot, almost dehydrated and drenched in your own sweat and salt.

you watch as chris tries repeatedly to turn the engine again and go somewhere, anywhere, but the car is limping more than you after a good fucking on a sunday night. you look over as the brunette goes out of the car, an after a few seconds comes back in the car hitting the door behind him.

“what is it?!”

you tell him loudly, on the verge of choking him with your own hands.

“flat tire!!”

he yells back at you and puts his hands on the wheel, allowing his head to fall between his arms. your eyes trace his salty and glued-together locks, and momentarily you want to grab them and rip them out his head from anger.

“you dont know how to change a t-“

“no y/n i was half asleep when matt was showing me that!”

chris rises his head from its hiding spot between his arms and looks at you with a pissed off expression.

“oh my god chris! how did you even get that damn license anyways-!”

you throw your head back as grunts are exchanged between you two, and you feel the sweat beading on your temples and making a beeline towards the veins on the side of your neck. you fish your phone out your denim booty shorts pocket and send a message to matt to come here asap.

“jesus christ it will take him like half an hour to get here-“ chris whispers beneath his own heavy breath as if you chose the worst possible solution to this mess.

“i know-!”

you officially decided it, your best friend is an absolute idiot and there was no explanation for it, he had been this way even before the almost heat-stroke you two were going through.a few seconds of silence make you sigh loudly.

”you good?” chris asks looking off into the distance of the sunny hill as he turns on the ac.

“just dizzy..”

you say back at him in a low, tired voice. you despise being hot, its your personal nightmare fuel. you lift your hand and place your fingertips in front of the car ac to cool your limbs down.

chris does the same and after half a minute of his hand getting chilly, he places it on your inner thigh in an attempt to cool you down and wake you up by snapping you out of your slumber.

“holy fuck chris-“

you let out with a gasp that was almost leaked out of a porn category, more so to the feeling of a large hand gripping your inner thigh than the temperature of his skin itself.

“shut up, you need to cool down.”

he says and looks ahead at the rocky landscape, his hand still tightly holding your soft salty skin.

you sit back on the car seat and cross your arms as you let him do his thing and look to the other side trying to hide the red blush across your cheeks. at worst case scenario, if asked you could blame it on the heat.

his thumb starts rubbing circular motions on your skin, occasionally playing with the rim of your denim shorts. you slowly creep your eyes from out the window towards chris and your gaze immediately spots the elephant in the room. your best friend had an erection that was visible as day beneath his trunks.

“uh chris-“

”i know. sorry, its tricky having my hand on your thigh and not letting my mind go places-ignore it.” he said completely avoiding to turn his head and look at you.

“places like..?”

god, why would you audibly ask that? some times you really wish you could hold your thoughts INSIDE your head like they are supposed to be.

“you really wanna find out?”

he turns to face you, tired eyes look at you in curiosity as they creep towards your thighs and you feel your parts tingle and your heart skip a beat. your silence was followed by a tiny shrug and nod, you could feel your lower lip trembling in need.after a few seconds his lips fell agape, surprised you didn’t immediately slap the audacity out of him.

he turns his head again to look elsewhere and starts sliding his hand upwards, slowly sliding down the zipper of your shorts. you feel your breathing get heavier, warmer and even though the ac is helping, your own body temperature is now playing tricks on you.

his fingertips fiddle with the fabric of your bikini and eventually slide their way under towards your warm skin. a little gasp makes your body slightly jolt upwards as you see the slight tent on his trunks grow and hear his breathing get heavier and head lower.

you hesitate but eventually let your hand travel towards his own thigh, and slowly touch his bulge. that makes chris immediately look at you and grab your wrist with his free hand.

“y/n dont make me do something we might regret.”

“..we can blame it on the heatstroke.” you say without thinking at all.

a slight silence follows and before you know it  chris frees both his hands to move you on his lap, letting your legs spread and find their way across the car. one on top of the steering wheel and the other stretched towards the passenger seat. his hard on your ass makes your face red and you instinctively move your thighs slightly, making chris groan and place his lips on yours.

you two start kissing like animals that are fighting over raw meat.

his tongue pushes yours, and you can feel his breath on your upper lip tremble. he lets out soft moan and groans as his fingers go under your bikini again, and without hesitation this time play with your clit

“f..fuck..” he mumbles under his breath and places his head to lean on your chest. his tongue then softly runs across the salty skin and he moans softly in pleasure before pulling down your bikini bra. your nipple peaks out just enough for chris to kiss and lick.

his teeth softly play with it as he looks up at you with the neediest eyes ever, like a puppy that is begging for your attention. his lips purse around your pink skin and he smiles while his tongue runs circles on your breast.

this is so overwhelming for you that you cover your mouth and lean back. his free hand holds your neck softly from the side and you can still feel him lick your breasts.

at this point you two were posed like a large instrument and the worlds most delicate musician in the world playing with it. only that the music was coming from your throats.his finger slides inside you and at the feeling of your warm and wet pussy he gasps.

“youre drenched..” he says in pleasure with a tone that reminds you of a whine. he proceeds to continue moving his finger inside you. in and out softly while his thumb is running circles on your clit.

”fuck..chris..”

”y/n i swear to god im gonna burst on my own fucking clothes-“ he says.

you believe him because you can feel his stomach raise and then drop from his breathing, and the hard feeling on your ass is now accompanied by him softly grinding his cock across your body.

you slightly look down to see the tip of his cock try to escape the rim of his waistband, and wet precum dripping from it and sticking to his skin.that view alone was enough to make you get even more wet on his fingers and feel yourself building up.

“chris im gonna-fuck im-“

he covers your mouth with his free hand, snaking it around your neck and shoulders and you feel yourself moving your body and fucking yourself on his fingers. you hold onto his hand and feel your nipple wet from his mouth again.

in between your orgasm, you feel him stop and lean his head on you as his fingertips start losing pace.after a few seconds you feel his hand slowly release of your mouth and you hear him breath heavily.

“..holy..fucking..”

you look down on your best friend only to see his stomach drenched in white, sticky cum. his dick is pulsating letting out the last drops of semen and you both are a salty, cummed on and sweaty mess.

then, the phone rings.chris, looking defeated reaches for the phone and picks it up on speaker, setting it on your thigh.

”yeah?” he says with a shaky breath.

“uh..did you guys..finish with your business so i can change your damn tire?” matt asks in a whispered tone.

you turn your head to see him only a few feet behind your car standing and looking elsewhere.

[musubiki]

i like drawing beautiful people so ill probably make the witch king hot ngl

[gutsby]

Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Warnings: 18+. Dubcon. Corruption kink. Virginity loss. Arranged marriage between enemies. Brat taming. Breeding kink. Beefy, mob boss Bucky devolving into a fall-to-his-knees-just-to-fuck-you kind of horny mess.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You kissed him and wished him dead in the same breath. You said ‘I do’ and meant ‘I don’t,’ exchanged your vows like your own last rites, and felt him slip the ring on your finger as if he’d just tightened a noose around your neck.

You didn’t want to be a bride, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be the bride to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frankly, you were mortified.

And terrified, too, now that you knew your groom might actually kill you in the kitchen of your honeymoon suite.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

Another plate went crashing on the wall behind your husband’s head just as he managed to duck. He side-stepped a spray of porcelain and glass and probably crushed several hundred shards beneath his polished black oxfords when he walked—stalked—over to you.

You’d just reared back to hurl a serving plate at his face when you found your speed swiftly outmatched. Bucky had your elbow gripped between his forefinger and thumb in less than a second, and, pinching the bone like he might readily break it, he said, even as always,

“Put it down.”

You did as he told you and dropped the platter to the floor with a crash.

Rather than berate you for the broken china—or the four other pieces before it—your husband only smiled.

“Are we done?”

Hell, you wanted to be. Slide over a pen and a one-way plane ticket to someplace in BFE, and you’d be signing those divorce papers in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, your dear husband was just referring to the temper tantrum.

You weren’t totally sure if you were finished on that front, so you looked him up and down and shrugged.

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your cool, level-headed groom took each gibe like it was his sworn duty, and only when he yanked your wrists behind your back and shoved you toward the bedroom door did you sense that he might not be too pleased with your behavior.

Your knees struck the edge of the California King at the center of the room, and before you could will yourself not to fall face-first, Bucky nudged you hard again.

Still pinning your hands behind you, he followed your collapse on the bed and leaned over your prone body.

His breaths were hot on your ear; you could tell he was smiling as he started to hike your dress up your legs.

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

You wriggled under his hold and tried to angle yourself better to see him, hoping he’d see your scowl.

“The deal was to get married,” you reminded him.

“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed, just then starting to trail a finger up the uncovered skin of your calf with his other hand, “And what is it that married people do?”

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

“Fight. Constantly. Probably resent each other for the better part of two decades before we finally decide that ‘making it work’ for the kids isn’t worth it at all, and I claim half of everything you own in a bitter divorce.”

That earned a chuckle from Bucky. He kept his roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezed the flesh just below the swell of your rear.

“Don’t worry, my lawyer drafted a pretty good prenup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but then he was tracing the contour of your ass with his palm, and you cut yourself short. Bucky carried on, careless as ever.

“But the kids you mentioned,” he said, “How are we supposed to get those?”

You pursed your lips and tried hard not to move when his fingers drifted inward—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. The bottom of your dress was bunched around your hips now, leaving you sorely exposed. Had your bridesmaids not thrust that stupid white lingerie set upon you hours before the wedding, you probably would’ve chosen something a little more modest than a thong. But here you were.

At least the sight seemed appealing to your husband, whose eyes hadn’t left you once while his hands grew even hungrier to feel your warmth.

“I’m hoping a sperm donor or one of your double-crossing mobster friends will knock me up, honestly,” you said, feigning enthusiasm at the thought.

A tart slap delivered to your ass told you that Bucky hadn’t found that funny. After, he started kneading the skin a bit harder.

“No shot,” he shook his head, suddenly gliding his fingers down closer to your core and waiting for you to say something in protest, “Only one that’s gonna be pumping this thing full of babies is me, I promise.”

It was like he wanted your retaliation, whether that be by a thinly veiled look of disgust or a reactionary jab of your own. You weren’t keen on fulfilling any wish of his, but at this point, you felt you had no other choice. When you sensed he was distracted by the newly-discovered heat between your legs and had loosened his grip on your wrists, you flipped yourself over on the bed. Shoved at his chest before he knew what to do with himself.

Of course, the push didn’t send him far, but it was enough to get his attention—and his hands off of you.

“I’m not having your babies, Barnes! I am never going to fuck you, no matter how long we stay fake married,” you spat.

At that, Bucky just raised his eyebrows and wet his lips. You were cramming your wedding dress back into place, glaring at him the whole time, and were scarcely more aware of the bright, teeming city outside the window than you were of your husband’s own growing erection.

Finally, you’d said it. His new wife wouldn’t fuck him. The sound of your resistance was almost a pleasure unto itself, and the longer you stared at Bucky with growing contempt and resolve not to do that thing, the more determined he became to make it happen.

Cat-and-mouse games had long been a staple in his life, and he was pleased to see them carry into his marriage as well. Surely if he’d triumphed in every pursuit for the last twenty years—facing the likes of some seriously execrable bandits and racketeers—he could take on a bratty woman less than half his size. You said you didn’t want his babies now, but just wait until he’d fucked you full of his cum once or twice. You’d be begging him for it in no time at all, and shortly thereafter, he’d have you barefoot and pregnant as many times as he liked. Always swollen with one of his children and whining for more.

The woman before him now had a murderous glint in her eyes, but he could fuck that away easy. In fact, he would live to do it. He traced the outline of your thigh over your dress and smiled when you tried not to recoil.

“Surely you didn’t think we’d be finger-painting and reading poetry to each other on our wedding night, hm?” he asked, almost delicately.

“Thought you might have one of your other women lined up,” you snorted. When you tried to move away, Bucky pinched your leg to make you stay. You winced.

“That’s not funny,” he said, a little more consternation in his tone. Like he actually cared whether you thought him a profligate Lothario or not, “Now that we’re married, it’s only you and me. No mistresses, nothing.”

Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.

“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.

You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’

No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.

What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.

“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”

Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.

“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.

Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.

“You like skylines?” he asked.

You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.

“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.

Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.

You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.

“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.

Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.

Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.

“James,” you hissed.

Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.

“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.

The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?

“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”

Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.

The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.

“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”

You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.

“James!”

Again with that name.

“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”

Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.

“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.

“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.

Like he’d read your mind.

In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.

“Just let it happen, honey.”

He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.

Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.

Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:

“N-no, Bucky.”

To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.

He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.

“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.

“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”

The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.

Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.

A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.

You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.

“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”

His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.

When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.

Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.

He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.

“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.

You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.

Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”

In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.

Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?

It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.

You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.

“Open the fucking door!”

He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.

Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.

One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.

You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.

Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.

He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.

“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”

No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.

The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.

“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.

“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:

Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.

“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.

He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.

“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”

That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.

“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”

His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.

You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.

The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.

“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.

“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.

Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.

This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.

Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”

“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”

He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.

“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.

As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.

You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.

You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.

Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.

Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.

He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:

“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”

Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.

“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.

“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.

For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.

While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.

How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.

Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.

Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.

Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.

A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.

Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.

You barged in and froze.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.

Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.

Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.

Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.

He was only met with silence.

Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.

The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”

Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.

Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.

Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.

“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”

If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.

“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.

Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.

You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.

“James.”

“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.

At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,

“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”

Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.

“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.

You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.

You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.

His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.

Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.

“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.

“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.

“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.

Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.

A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.

He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.

Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.

No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.

“Okay.”

Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.

You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.

Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.

Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.

His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?

When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.

Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.

You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.

Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.

Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.

Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.

You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.

Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.

Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.

Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.

You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.

He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”

He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.

You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.

“Keep going, I’m good.”

Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.

“Aw hell.”

The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.

He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”

Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.

You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.

“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.

“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”

It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.

The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.

When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.

When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.

The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.

“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.

Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.

“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.

This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.

“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.

He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.

“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.

“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.

Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.

When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.

The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.

Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.

Your cheeks flushed.

“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”

‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.

You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.

“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”

You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.

“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”

Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.

“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”

You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.

Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.

“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”

Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.

You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.

“One more for me, honey.”

You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?

Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.

“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Sure you can.”

Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.

But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.

It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.

The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.

“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.

You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.

“I love you.”

You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.

“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.

You would’ve liked to speak.

Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.

In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.

The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.

Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.

When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.

“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.

“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”

[webism]

"and whenever you smile at me, i promise to smile back."

it was a stupid vow, but one you made to satoru at the altar regardless. he had tears in his blue eyes and his lips were quivering and in the moment you really meant it, but god can he be an asshole.

like when he's denying you an orgasm. and he has you on your back, legs parted and hips rocking up against his tongue as he makes out with your pussy like he's on death row. he knows you on a molecular level, every inching indicator of your coming orgasm, and as soon as you give yourself away he's pulling back and wiping his lips while you groan because this is the third time this week.

and when he looks down at you with those puppy dog eyes and flashes you the biggest grin he can manage, you want to flip him off and make him sleep on the couch. you nearly do.

"you made a vow to me, baby," he tsks. "cmon, let me see that pretty smile of yours."

you turn your lips up, just enough to hold true to your vow. "id smile more if you let me cum."

"wrong," satoru shrugs, "you look like this—" he parts his lips and rolls his eyes back dramatically "—when you cum."

"fuck you," you look away, but his hand is quick to shoot out and turn your gaze back onto him. he's pulling his hard cock from his sweats and tapping the tip against your clit a few times before sighing.

"i'm going to, bossy."

and he pushes into you with a sick pace that has you feeling each hard inch of him. you'll never get used to it, to the way he stretches you out and sends you dizzy with just his cock.

"you look dick drunk already," he grins, you shoot him a sarcastic smile in turn.

you grab his bulging bicep with your left hand, the ring on your finger cool against his warm skin. it makes his hips stutter, having you claimed by him in more than one way: with the heavy rock he put on your finger and with his aching cock deep inside of you.

you know what he's going to do, try and edge you again and again until you go stupid on his cock and finally beg. but the way he reacts to just your wedding ring alone gives you a sick idea. you're still hot from him eating you out—it won't take much to push you over the edge.

"my toru," you hum, and smile a little as you feel his pace increase. "how'd i end up with such a pretty husband?"

he shakes his head, white locks falling into his eyes. "stop, i know what you're—"

"marrying you was the best decision of my life, baby," you continue, and bring your ringed hand up to hold the side of his face. his hips buck into you a little faster, a little wilder. "but i want you to fuck me like you did on our wedding night. till i was nauseous with how deep you were inside me. really made me yours, huh baby?"

that's all it takes. he's cutting off your intake of breath with a kiss and sustaining you on his essence alone. his cock splits you open at depths you think shouldn't be possible, and with each mean thrust of his hips into yours the headboard hits the wall in rhythmic mirror of your lusts.

and satoru chides himself: he thought denying you would be fun, a cheeky way to rile you up and get you begging for just the tip if its all he'd gift you with. but he's your husband, your other half: you aren't whole without him and he's empty when not filling you. he fucks you hard and quick and mean but with so much love you'd swear it was your wedding night all over.

and when you finally think you're going to cum, satoru encourages you with quick circles over your clit and the sweetest of praise from his lips. he loves you, he loves everything about you, there's no stronger aphrodisiac than your pleasure.

you cum hard around his cock and milk an orgasm out of him in turn. he fills you, claims you as his all over, and moans symphonies as he does so. your chest heaves, breath lost on you, and when he smiles down at you you're barely seeing straight enough to smile back.

he leans down to kiss you, a hungry kiss. "gonna fuck you so dumb and see if you still remember making that vow, okay baby?"

[impeakcharacterdesign]

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

[deusfoundry]

18+ only mdni pls thank u :D also its my first time writing smut/something this explicit so please be kind 😭

kissing sylus is always such a dizzying experience, one that you can swear drives you to borderline insanity.

you usually catch him in one of two moods.

one, is when he likes to take things slow.

it's a few hours past midnight, hours past the time you should've went to bed if you wanted to get up early for work tomorrow. but you don't mind. really, every single bone in your body is screaming at you to stay where you are, perched right on sylus' lap.

your legs settle on either side of his thighs. they’re beginning to feel like jelly, nearly numb from being in the same position for so long. both of your hands are on his shoulders. your fingers dig into the fabric of his sweatshirt. an attempt, but ultimately a feeble one to ground yourself.

likewise, sylus' hands are glued to your thighs. his palms glide over the bare flesh, fingertips brushing against the hem of your shorts. beneath the thin fabric, he draws circles with his thumb, each drag of his rough pads on your skin brings him closer to the lace of your underwear.

he’s got no sense of urgency as he pulls away, lips lingering just a hair away from yours before leaning his head to give your neck the same amount of attention. you turn your head to the side for his convenience, and he gladly takes it as an invitation to smother the entire length of your neck.

sylus works diligently, lips moving in an almost snail-like pace as if to say that you've got all the time in the world. he doesn't move to another patch of skin until he's sure there are marks in the greater vicinity of each area he covers.

his lips travel down to your shoulder, leaving wet kisses in his wake. he takes the thin strap of your camisole between his fingers, toying with the fabric enough that it slips off. his teeth sink into your skin.

your breath hitches when that delightful mix of pain and pleasure hits your senses.

it's almost too much, the way he's taking his sweet time with you. how he pours the same amount of utmost care and attention over each inch of skin he comes across, until you somehow find yourself resting on your back at the couch.

the flimsy fabric of your camisole rides up. you find it harder and harder to breathe as he runs a hand over your bare stomach. sylus plants his lips right above the garter of your shorts. 

he tugs at the garter while he holds your gaze, an unspoken way of asking for your consent. your nod is accompanied by a quiet hum that he takes as his cue to pull your shorts all the way down, tossing the garment carelessly over his shoulder.

you're left in your camisole and underwear. it's far less skin than you've shown sylus before, who's seen and memorized every little nook and cranny of your body, but you still feel the urge to squirm. to shy away from his touch and to hide from his eyes that nearly burns holes into your skin from the intensity of his stare.

but he doesn't give you the chance to do either when his hand flies to your inner thigh, slightly spreading your limbs apart.

“don't go hiding on me now, sweetie.” his lips replace the hand on your thigh. the teeth that digs into your skin makes you whimper. “relax, we've got all night.”

other times, he's overtaken by the carnal need to devour you whole. 

he's got you pinned down on the mattress. the cool silk beneath a stark contrast to your flushed, heated skin. it serves as a reminder of how sylus can get you all hot and bothered with little effort.

you two have been going at it for what feels like hours, but it's barely been ten minutes since he dragged you from his office by the waist, the cookies you baked for him sitting long forgotten on his desk.

sylus pulls away, just enough to have you rising from the bed as your parted lips chase after him on instinct. he can feel the ghost of your lashes as your half lidded eyes flutter open. 

you pout. sylus struggles to hold down the chuckle blooming from his chest. 

"stop being mean.” 

"i don't know what you're talking about, sweetie." sylus acts innocent, but he's got a shit-eating grin on his face that lets you know he's messing with you. "am i not allowed to breathe?"

he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. like he's never pushed you to the boundaries of how long a human being can last without oxygen. like he doesn't place a firm hand on the back of your head to keep you from catching your breath.

sylus full-on laughs when you turn away from him, shifting your body as much as his tight grip on your wrists will allow so that you're angled away from him.

cute. he thinks. did you really think he can be denied that easily?

sylus releases his hold on one of your wrists. his now free hand finds your chin, fingers lingering above skin for a moment before he uses just enough force to turn your head towards him.

you gasp. the tiny sound you make that's barely louder than a whisper travels straight down.

for half a second, you lock eyes. but you're determined to keep up this little charade despite the hand on your chin, eyes darting to look at anything but him.

“kitten,” he feels the way you squirm beneath, can almost feel the shiver running down your spine. “look at me.”

with little hesitation, you will yourself to face him. and when your eyes find his, sylus wastes no time in capturing your lips between his own.

it's awfully pathetic, you think, the way you gasp for the second time in less than a minute. but you don't think you can pin the blame on yourself entirely when it's sylus.

sylus, who's rapidly starting to fill your senses, consuming you wholly. he's in each breath of air you take through your nose, a mix of leather and cedarwood fogging your mind. he's all you can ever think of tasting as his tongue works wonders inside your mouth.

hell, he's even in the back of your eyelids. a picture forever burned in your mind, a memory carved so deeply into your soul.

he slots himself between your legs, dragging one of his thighs up the sheets until it meets with your core.

sylus swallows each sound you make, from the quietest whimpers to the most shameless of moans, as he grinds his thigh against you. the muscle presses into you with pressure that's enough to drive you crazy, but not enough to send you careening over the edge.

 he knows this. of course he does. he notices it in the shortening of your breath, chest heaving and contracting deeply. in the frantic way in which your fingers travel across the large expanse of his back. in your soaked pajama shorts that's slowly seeping through the fabric of his pants.

“what's the matter?” and he'd be happy to give you more, to give you that push you need to reach blissful release. “tell me, sweetie, what do you want?”

only if you ask nicely.

“sy-” you manage between baited breaths. “please, i- i need more.”

“i’m not sure i get what you mean. care to help a poor man out?” his pace relents, leaning forward in a mock curiosity. satisfaction courses through his veins when he hears you whine.

his pants are starting to strain uncomfortably, the last bits of his restrain wearing thin. he wants you, as much as—no, a lot more than you want him. but he wants to make sure you get your fill first.

it's you above everything, after all.

“sylus, i need you-”

“you have me.” sylus presses against your clothed clit. “or is this not enough for you?”

you shake your head, desperate for release. “need you inside, please.”

“well,” he smirks, reaching down to move your underwear to the side before sliding right into your hole. the gasp that falls off your swollen lips is music to his ears as he starts rapidly thrusting two of his fingers in and out. “since the kitten asked so nicely, who am i to deny her request?”

[satorusugurugurl]

Teasing JJK Men With a Popsicle

Summary: When the sun is hot, you cool off with a tasty ocy treat! While also teasing your boyfriend.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU), AFAB!Reader

Warnings: suggestiveness, food play?? language, kissing, teasing, mock blowjobs, smutty-esque

Word Count: 5,5k

A/N: this is another poll prompt I did awhile back! I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things now that my writers block is gone! Enjoy!!

Gojo Satoru:

“Good mornin—ooh—” Shoko held her cigarette between her teeth, watching you boil with anger. “Not a good morning?” she asked, cockimg a brow as you plopped down on the bench next to her.

“It would’ve been if it wasn’t for Gojo.”

“Yikes, using your boyfriend‘s last name. What did he do to piss you off??

“It’s on the lines of what he ‘didn’t do.’” Your best friend took a long drag and blew the smoke above her head.

“I’m going to regret asking this, but what happened?”

The morning has started with the potential of being a great day. Gojo had you on top of him, rocking your hips against his morning wood, getting you all riled up before he broke the kiss. He quickly got out of bed, claiming that he needed to get ready for the meeting, which you knew was a crock of shit, but instead of calling him out, you made the mistake of joining him in the shower. He had you pinned against the wall, pressing between your legs, teasing your pussy before pulling away the second you began grinding down on him. It was painfully clear your asshole of a boyfriend decided to edge you all fucking morning. Once you made this discovery, you did your best to avoid him and his seductive advances.

But avoiding him was easier said than done.

On the ride to school, his fingers teased your inner thighs, rubbing the skin gently. When you finally made it to work, he cornered you in a classroom, rubbing himself over the fat of your ass. Gojo had woken up and chose violence this morning, and you were his victim.

“I’m seriously about to ask Yaga to send me off to supervise a mission or something to get me away from him.”

The only reason you were able to maintain some form of composure was all thanks to the first year’s training session Gojo was instructing. You had an hour to try to calm yourself down to get through the rest of the day, but knowing Gojo, he wouldn’t make the rest of the day easy. No amount of time would prepare you for the relentless torture. That was sure to ensue the second he got back from his lesson.

Shoko blew out another cloud, cupping some dark hair behind her ear. “Your solution is simple.” You stared blankly at your best friend. “You tease the bastard back.” Part of you jumps eagerly at the idea of switching the playing field. Part of you began cooking up all sorts of plots to invoke your revenge. The other half of you pouts, sinking slowly further down the bench.

“Yeah, and how do you suggest I do that? The last time I checked, he’s a giant who is untouchable. Even if I tried grinding against him, all he needed to do was put up his infinity.”

“You don’t have to grind on him to tease him. I’m a lesbian, and even I know that.”

“Then what do I do?”

Shoko put her cigarette out before gently grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the teacher's lounge. “We just need to make a quick stop at the kitchen.”

Gojo sighed as he watched the first-years brawl with the second-years. This was far less entertaining than teasing you had been. Seeing your pretty skin flush before you sighed in annoyance was his fuel for the day. Teasing you was just too easy. But he fully intended to make all the teasing worthwhile once you got home.

He just wanted to go as fast as he could to get back to said teasing. “Hey.” Never mind the waiting; it seemed as though some other almighty power had answered his prayers. You had been summoned near his side, practically begging to be teased! You were like a moth to the glowing flame that was his stature.

“Hey sweetie, what do you say we blow this popsicle stand and head to the sh-h-he—!!”

Gojo’s flawless Ivory skin flushed a crimson red when he turned his attention to you. Your pretty lips were sealed around a popsicle, sucking it as if it was his dick. Cheeks were hollowed, and your eyes narrowed as you watched his lips quiver under the shock of seeing you in such a promiscuous state. Once you were sure his attention was focused solely on you, your head began bobbing, taking more of (him) the popsicle into your mouth with a fucking moan. That sound alone should be reserved for him and his dick only, not some popsicle. Why the fuck was he getting insanely jealous over a sweet?!

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Cooling off?” You say, finally pulling off the cream-colored icy treat

Satoru scoffed, shifting his weight from one leg to the other to distract himself from his tightening pants. But nothing truly seemed to help because all he could focus on was how pretty your lips looked wrapped around your frozen popsicle. While he was suffering, you reveled in the satisfaction and the sweet taste of revenge.

“Baby, come on, don’t do this to me.” He complained, watching you take the whole length into your mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh?” You swirl your tongue around the tip. “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for what, Toru?” You asked, popping the popsicle back into your mouth

“I’m sorry for teasing you, okay?!”

Your lips together, humming thoughtfully as you tapped your index finger against your chin. “I guess you seem like you mean it.” Satoru nodded, fluffy tufts of white hair moving with his every move. “But that still doesn’t make what you did right, so no, I won’t stop.” Your boyfriend let out a pained moan as you returned to enjoying your frozen treat.

“Sweetie, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” Your cheeks hollowed as you suck the tip hard.

“Yes, anything!”

You hummed again, pulling off the tip. “You’re going to let me ride you tonight. And I will edge until I see tears in those blue eyes.”

Gojo scoffed, bending down slightly and getting in your face. “You say that as if it’s a punishment.” You focused on his blindfold as you pulled off the popsicle.

“Wanna bet?”

“Oh, please, like you riding me is a punish—” For an instant, Gojo waited, thinking that maybe you were going to have some smart retort to shoot back at him. But instead, you bit the tip of the popsicle off with your teeth with an aggressive snarl.

With pure satisfaction, you watched your boyfriend's hands shoot down his crotch. Where he covered his now soft cock. His jaw went slack as eyebrows twitched from underneath his blindfold, clearly pained by your actions. You smiled before patting him on the shoulder and turning to walk back towards the school with a sway in your hips. One that generally left him eager to get home, but this time, it sent pinpricks down his spine.

“Can’t wait to get home and teach you a thing or two!”

While the strongest sorcerer of the modern age watched, you saunter off. He was beginning to realize just how badly he had fucked up. And he was not looking forward to what you had planned for him. Okay, maybe he was a little excited.

Geto Suguru:

It wasn’t your fault. You had done nothing to deserve the sex ban your boyfriend had put you on. You may have fallen through a second-story window after purposely ignoring his warnings. And it may have been a fall that had resulted in you needing twenty stitches, but that didn’t mean he needed to withhold sex from you.

Normally when shit like this happened, the outcome either resulted and you were getting lectured or getting spanked, which wasn’t ordinarily bad at all. But seeing that this was your fifth injury in three weeks, Suguru decided to take a different approach to teach you a lesson, and it was a lesson that was working, much to your dismay.

This punishment was beginning to eat you alive.

You could live without sex for a week, but two weeks should be considered torture. To make matters worse, any attempts you had made to push Suguru to break the stupid ban himself had gone unnoticed, unbothered, and irritated you beyond all means. You were utterly desperate to get dick down by your fantastic boyfriend, but you still had another four days to go before the ban was up.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

You hummed as you stood at the end of an alley, looking back at your boyfriend, who used his curse technique on the curse you had been fighting into a ball. Suguru rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead, wiping away the sweat that coated his brow. It was a hot one in downtown Tokyo, but you had the perfect way to cool off! One that was sure to ignite the flames of passion deep inside Suguru’s chest.

“Okay,” Suguru said softly as walking towards the entrance of the alley where you were waiting for him, “I just need to swallow, and then we can get back to Jujutsu High. I was thinking maybe we could—” your boyfriend, paused, looking up from the cursed spirit in his palm, watching as you slowly run your tongue along the underside of a popsicle. “When did you have time to grab that?”

“Right when you started working your magic!” Your tongue stained a fluorescent red as the taste of cherry washed over your taste buds. “This cute little shop had them right by the door! Works out perfectly in that summertime Tokyo heat.”

Suguru hummed, eyeing the curse sphere in his hand, bracing himself for what he knew he had to do next. “Would you mind—” he stopped talking as you pushed yourself off the wall, turning to stand before him. You sucked on the cherry popsicle as if it were your boyfriend’s cock. Your cheeks bobbing your head over the sweet, tangy treat, all while maintaining eye contact with your boyfriend. “Princess.”

“Ah~!” you moaned out happily, popping your mouth off the tip of the popsicle. You made sure to lick your lips ever so slowly, hoping they were slightly swollen with all the sucking you had done. “Yes, Suguru~?”

This was it. He would finally break after all of your efforts in the three days! You couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say! Maybe it would be, ‘I can't take this any longer. I need to feel you!’ Or better yet, he might not say anything at all! He might drag you down the dark and take you right there against the brick wall. It would be an adrenaline rush with the prospect of getting caught doing some naughty things in public!

You could feel yourself vibrating with excitement and need. A look that didn’t go unnoticed by your incredibly observant boyfriend. He could see the way that you were pressing your thighs together. Your lips slightly parted at the sound of his voice. And the telltale sign was the fact that your eyes so bluntly focused on his crotch as if you were willing him to get erect. It was almost cute seeing you so eager.

“Make sure there’s no one coming.” The disappointment that flashed across your features like lightning was as clear as a crystal lake. “Go on.”

Your eyebrow twitched with visible anger, and you practically stormed to the end of the alley, looking both ways and ensuring no pedestrians were walking by. “It’s clear.” There was a sour tone to your voice, fully capable of cuddling milk.

“Thank you, darling,” Suguru responded before tilting his head back and popping the curse into his mouth.

The horrendous taste of a rag that was used to wipe up vomit coated his tongue before he was able to swallow the curse down. Once he absorbed the curse, he focused his attention on you to draw away from the horrendous taste that coated his mouth like a film. He usually found himself drawn towards you after he swallowed a curse. You were his anchor, in a way—something to ground himself to without losing himself in the disgusting taste that would drive anyone mad.

Typically, when his dark eyes met yours, he was met with a warm and gentle smile. Only this time, he was met with the burning, lustful gaze as you practically deep-throated a popsicle. Seeing you suck on it before hadn’t been all that distracting, but now that you were getting into it, it was a different story. Your eyes had a far-off gaze as you focused on him. Your head moved up and down over the popsicle, coding it in your saliva as you sucked on it hard.

Seeing you in such a state left Suguru swallowing harder than he had when he swallowed the curse. With each inch you took further into your mouth, you could see a flicker of need in his eyes. This was it—your boyfriend‘s breaking point. Suguru was going to be the one to crash; he was going to be the one to break his ban!

In the blink of an eye, Suguru snarled, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you deeper down the alley. The sudden jerky movement caused you to drop your popsicle, tumbling to the ground and breaking into several uneven pieces. But you didn’t give a fuck about the popsicle! You were more eager to get to be with your boyfriend again finally!

Suguru grabbed both your wrists, pinning them above your head. His lips met yours in a crash of pure, unfiltered need. The man didn’t even give you a chance to fully understand what was happening or try to match his pace. One, his lips were slanted against yours, and the next, he was showing his tongue into your mouth without even asking for permission by the tip of his tongue slowly over your bottom lip. You moaned, eyes fluttering shut as you kissed him back, his knee darting between your legs, pressing up against your clothed core.

He pulled away for a moment before slamming his lips back against yours, nearly causing your teeth to clash against each other.his tongue, massage yours, wrapping around the muscle, as you found yourself melting against him, hips, slowly, moving as the taste of cherry slowly enveloped his mouth. His feverish kisses began to cool down as your hips slowly began rocking against his thigh, eager For what else he had to offer you in his alleyway.

But as quickly as the kiss came, it ended. He pulled away, panting heavily as he released his grip on your wrists. You fell forward against his chest, gripping his jacket for support as he removed his knee from between your legs. You were shaking slightly at the arousal that burned through your veins like boiling water. Peering up at your boyfriend, you watched as he licked at the smeared cherry syrup on his lips.

“S-Sugu—what was?!”

“I just had to get the taste of the curse out of my mouth. And since you were so rudely didn’t even offer to get me a popsicle, I decided to make do with what I had. It’s not like Satoru is around to offer me candy. So I decided to taste your popsicle firsthand.”

You felt as though the world was crashing down on you. “I-I—!” Suguru shut his eyes as he tilted his head to the side, smiling softly, which was sinister with what he had just done to you.

“Did you honestly think that was going to break me? Oh, my sweet Princess, you’d have to do a lot more than that.” he wrapped his arm around your waist, leading you down the alleyway back to the bustling streets. “You have four days to go, then we can make up for lost time. But by all means, keep up your technique by sucking more popsicles, it may not break me, but I do enjoy the sight of you sucking on it.”

Needless to say you had learned your lesson. You found that out by yourself right then there, standing in an alley after being twat-blocked your boyfriend who was right. You needed to be more careful on your missions, and you definitely would be more careful from now on. Because your boyfriend was not going to ever break a sex ban.

Nanami Kento:

It was hot, and you felt even hotter in every part of your body. You were sitting on your porch watching your husband mow the grass in your backyard. You had offered to do it earlier this week, but he insisted on taking care of it because of how hot it was. The last thing he wanted was for his beautiful wife to get overheated and possibly suffer the consequences of heat stroke.

At first, you weren’t sure if you were insulted or relieved by his request. You wanted to help with the yard work; you had no problem doing that. But Nanami made you a deal: if you did the laundry, he would ensure the yardwork was done, which didn’t seem that fair of a deal to you. Your washing machine and dryer were inside the comfort of your air-conditioned house while your husband was stuck outside in the heat doing yard work.

After you finished the laundry, you changed into a pair of booty shorts and a tank top, fully motivated to get outside and help him finish the yardwork so the two of you could shower and relax for the evening. But the second Nanami spotted you walking down the steps of the porch, heading towards him, he stopped what he was doing and pointed to the chair that was under the shade.

“My love, it’s too hot for you to be out here. I'm almost done. Take a seat. I can handle it.”

“Kento, if you stop being so stubborn, we could get it done faster!” you pleaded with your husband, crossing your arms over your chest.“Just let me help you with weeding the garden!”

Your husband turned the lawnmower off, using the short brake to wipe the sweat Office face with his dirty shirt. “Sweetpea, I already finished picking the weeds; I watered all the plants; all I need to do now is just mow the lawn. So please take a seat and relax. It won’t take me very long.” You wanted to argue with him to tell him that he was being asinine about the whole situation; that stubborn look in his eyes, however, told you there was no persuading him to stop.

With a side of defeat, you back up the stairs of the porch, flopping your ass down in the lounge chair, looking out at him. Nanami smiled, readjusting his baseball hat with a wink before turning the lawn mower back on. Your husband often called you stubborn, but perhaps he needed to take the time to look in the mirror because he was just as stubborn, if not more stubborn than you.

Was it that bad that you wanted to help him out? It wasn’t as though you were some fragile flower incapable of doing yardwork. If you weren't so angry, you would’ve been able to take the time to enjoy the view in front of you. Your sweaty husband roamed around the yard, ensuring it was pristine. Sweat ran down his neck, biceps, and face, making him look as though he was some sort of Greek god.

But he was being childish at the current moment.

Clearly, trying to be an adult and offer your assistance to him wasn’t going to help, and talking to him about trying to persuade him to let you help wasn’t going to work either. There wasn’t much more you could do. Once your husband has made a decision, he typically sticks with it.

But there was one thing even the Nanami Kento couldn't resist on a hot day like this! You hopped out of your chair and rushed back into the house, heading straight for the freezer. You snickered to yourself as you pulled out your secret weapon before returning to the backyard.

Nanami had just turned the lawnmower off again and moved to discard the lawn clippings in the trash bag. He fully set it off to the side, intending to add it to the other compost by the shed you used for your flowers. Sweat ran down his chiseled cheeks, and he was looking forward to getting this done so he could take a very long shower with you. But just as he was about to connect the basket back to the lawnmower, he looked up at you and dropped it to the ground.

You were sitting back in the lounge chair, legs propped up on the porch railing, as you slowly licked around the frozen treat in the waffle cone in your hand. You are pretty tongue-lapped at your favorite frozen flavor, your eyes transfixed on him as you swirled your tongue expertly around the tip of the treat. Watching you do something so lewd on a dessert had Nanami swallowing hard. He suddenly found his basketball shorts were way too tight for comfort.

You had not intended for it to be like this. Your mind was nowhere even close to being in the gutter. Instead, your intentions were innocent. In the long run, your plan had been to entice him with ice cream to take a break in the shade with you. Maybe once he got out of the blazing heat, you would be able to convince him to allow you to help him. Your poor husband thought you were doing something completely different; fortunately, it worked.

His eyes were towards the grass that was cut evenly, aside from the small patches near the back wall that were practically unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t know the yard like you or Kento did; it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he didn’t mow it just this once. The lawn society would come and arrest him for missing a minuscule part of the lawn. Besides, it was too damn hot to be out in the yard working in heat like this. Not when you sat on the porch looking at him with narrowed eyes as you lapped seductively at your treat.

A look you hadn’t realized you had even been giving the man. Your intentions had been pure. So you knew you had won when you watched Nanami quickly move across the yard, picking up his yard tools and throwing them in the shed without a care in the world. You silently fist-pumped the aias. Nanami came bounding across the yard with a purpose. There was a look in those honey-brown eyes as he ran up the stairs.

“How sweet of you to join m—mmphm!”

Your frozen dessert falls onto your lap as Nanami tosses his baseball cap off to the side, his hands gripping your face as he kisses you deeply. Your eyes rolled back, your mind completely ignoring the fact that your frozen treat was melting in your lap. All your brain could focus on was kissing Nanami back; everything else fizzled into the background as he lifted you out of the chair, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Mhmm—my love.” the moan that left Nanami’s mouth caused the little hairs on your arms to stand as goosebumps rose. “If you wanted me, all you had to do was ask.”

“H-Huh—?” you drunkenly asked as he opened the backdoor, expertly shutting and locking it as his lips moved over your neck. He chucked warm and deep, his face buried in your neck.

You inhaled sharply, whimpering as his teeth grazed over your pulse. “If you wanted me to ravish you this badly, all you needed to do was say so instead of teasing me.” Your mind raced as you suddenly became aware of what he had been talking about.

The ice cream. Your intention to innocently persuade him to join you on the porch to cool off had been misconstrued as a beg for him to stop what he was doing so you could suck him off, maybe even do more. So, the way you saw it, you had two options. Be honest with your husband and tell him you just wanted the home to cool off on the porch as a ploy to convince him to let you help with the yard. Or, go with what he was saying and have steamy, hot shower sex.

“Oh shoot! You caught me! Here, I thought I was being so aloof with my plans!”

Your husband kicks the door to your bedroom open, heading into the bathroom. “Luckily for me, I can read you like a book.” Your fingers run through his slightly damp, sweat-ridden hair, scratching at the undercut as you pull yourself in and kiss him deeply.

“That you do.”

Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU)

The door to the apartment flew open, and you snarled, eyes searching for any sign of your boyfriend. “Kuna!” screamed at the top of your lungs. There was no response, but that didn’t stop you from searching the empty apartment for your teasing boyfriend.

Intentions of making him pay for the relentless teasing he had put you through your workday. It started as an innocent text that said good morning and to have a good day. That innocent message progressed to him saying he missed you, followed by a picture of him lying in bed, his ripped abdomen muscles on full display. The photo in itself is something you were used to, but the images that followed were out of nowhere.

Pictures of his bulge in his basketball shorts came up on your screen. With each picture that showed up, they became more scandalous. The bulge turned into photos of him, groping himself through his pants, the erection clearest day to shots of his tattooed, happy trail all the way up to the base of his cock. Your face flushed as you shielded your phone from the prying eyes of your coworkers. You texted him to knock it off, but that was not easily persuaded. He did what he wanted, and he didn’t give a fuck.

Those scandalous photos turned into Voice Memos that had your panties soaked and your lip raw from how hard you bid it to hold the back whimpers. The man was torturing you, and you had planned to make him suffer as much as he had made you. But now that you were finally off the clock, in the safety of your own home, and the bastard was nowhere to be found!? Typical teasing dick move.

You stormed into the kitchen, searching for something to distract yourself with. Finding a popsicle in the freezer, you unwrapped it just as the front door opened and shut. In a second, you watched as your boyfriend around the corner, dropping his keys on the counter.

“Kitten!” shouted around with hungry desire. “I'm home!”

“Hm.” Instead of responding with the normally warm, enthusiastic welcome, he was greeted with the coldness of a winter storm.

“Oh, don't hm me. What do you say I ma—” His words traveled off as he fixed his gaze on you, witnessing you pushing the pink popsicle into your mouth, sucking on the tip as he blinked before focusing on you.

Teasing wasn’t as fun now that he was the one on the receiving end of it. That’s what you thought. You had been eager to watch his face contort with need. Longing to make him suffer the same way he had made you suffer throughout the entirety of your day. Shortly as you found yourself lost in thoughts, you were met with the dark, almost void look in his crimson eyes.

That almost emotionless look in his eyes, and he didn’t seem bothered by your actions. Instead, you’ve leaned further over the counter, not breaking the eye contact. There was a lot you had been expecting your boyfriend to do in response to your teasing. So you continued to deep-throat the icy treat. But when Soukouna reached into the fruit bowl on the counter, picking up a peach, your eyebrows twitched as you tried to figure out what he intended to do.

A split second passed before Sukuna reached for the knife block. He pulled out the pairing knife, still maintaining icon contact. You walked, and your boyfriend sliced into the fruit. Its sweet juices beat against the fuzzy skin. The second peach was split in half. Sukuna grabbed the pit of the peach, throwing it into the sink.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, continuing to suck on the popsicle in a very messy manner. Was he seriously going to sit there and eat a peach without saying anything? Before you could even continue to question his intentions, you came to the shocking realization that he wasn’t going to eat the peach.

Your big buff boyfriend leaned over the counter himself, holding the peach in one hand while the other gripped the counter with his other. You watched as his pierced tongue slid out of his mouth slowly, lapping at the inside of the peach; in a way, he typically ate you out. He ran his piercing over the indent of the peach where Sukuna re the tip of the pit was, where your clit would be. He ran his tongue over that spot over and over before his tongue slid back down, lapping over the juicy peach.

Watching him lapping at the peach in such a seductive manner made you choke at first. Your boyfriend snickered as he kept his burning gaze focused solely on you. What the fuck? Why was this so erotic?! Watching him eating out a peach, you were suddenly jealous.

“What’s wrong, Kitten?” He purred out cocking an eyebrow. The juices from the peach smeared over his mouth as he pulled away. “You can dish it out but can’t take it?”

“Mhmm~!” You hummed out aggressively, swirling your tongue over the top of the popsicle. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You whispered, running the tip of your tongue over what you pretended was the slit of your boyfriend's cock.

“Ah, okay, I see. You can pretend you’re not imagining that popsicle as my thick cock, but I’m pretending this.” He held the peach up. “Is your sweet cunt.”

His words sent fire to pool in your abdomen. “O-oh yeah?” You questioned as if you didn’t know that’s what he was doing.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t compare to you.” He growled as he flicked his tongue over the peach. “You’re so much wetter, sweeter, and make the prettiest sounds. I’d much rather bury my head between your thighs.”

“Yet you’re still licking the peach.”

“And you're still deepthroating a fucking popsicle.”

You weren’t going to break down first! You refused to when he had started the teasing this morning while you were at work. Even if the popsicle melted you had a freezer full of them to continue this stupid game.

“Mmm~haaah~” Sukuna moaned softly, flicking his tongue over the peach in strategic swipes, ones you were familiar with. “S,” Sukuna hummed before you watched his tongue quickly dip down, “U,” the pink tongue darted down before two quick flicks followed, “K—”

You were a liar.

You threw the popsicle to the floor before snatching the peach away from your boyfriend and throwing it into the sink. Your boyfriend's smirk didn’t even have a chance to tug at the corner of his mouth as you yanked him closer to you by the straps of his tank top. Not expecting you to falter so quickly, Sukuna barely had time to process what was happening before he was dragged around the kitchen island, where your lips slammed against his.

All cocky attitudes joined the discarded peach pit in the sink as you both threw yourselves at each other. The sweet, sticky taste of peaches and strawberries collapsed in a kaleidoscope of flavors as your tongues massaged each other as you fell to the tile floor, wrapping your limbs around your boyfriend. Clothes were tugged off, and belts were unbuckled before moans flooded the apartment, and neither of you intended to stop until you were a sticky, sweaty mess.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

[joemama-2]

this is not how you imagined your friday night would go.

you thought you’d be watching the stars by now after a nice dinner. maybe some compliments, maybe even a small kiss shared. or some held hands.

but no. because currently you’re seated on the expensive couch, eyes fixated on some random nature documentary because you don’t have the courage to face the six year old boy to your left and demand him to stop staring.

you like kids, but this one oddly makes you nervous, scared almost.

your date is in the bathroom taking way too long and you’re half tempted to up and leave. your posture is stiff, forcing yourself to find the screen interesting.

our of your peripheral, you can see the boy raise his spoonful of ice cream to his mouth, head tilting like you’re one of the animals being observed on the TV.

“are you the one he keeps talking about?”

confusion strikes you as you finally turn your head to face him. your titled head mirroring his own. “um…..i’m not sure.”

a part of you feels flattered by the sudden fact. is satoru really talking about you? but then an unsettling feeling takes place, one of hesitation and jealously. or is he talking about someone else?

“you have the black Cane Corso, right?”

ah, so it’s the former. you smile. “oh, yeah. that’s me.”

“what’s his name?” the little boy asks you, shifting his small body as the talk of dogs gains his attention by the second.

“sunny.”

his brows pinch together. “why sunny?”

“because he was a stray, i found him in a box on a very hot day.”

he hums and nods before asking yet another question. you forget how curious children can be. “is he nice?”

you chuckle. sunny has the stereotype of being aggressive due to his breed and size, but he’s anything but. he’s your gentle giant who gets scared of butterflies and plastic water bottles. “he’s really nice, he loves meeting new people and licking.”

you playfully stick your tongue out with a look of a faux grimace. this gets the small boy to crack a hint of a smile. it warms your heart almost instantly. “you like dogs?” you ask him, voice softening.

he nods automatically. “i really like dogs, i have two dogs. one is white and the other is black.”

“oh wow,” your eyebrows raise. “that’s so cool, are they big too?”

“mhm.” he nods.

you do a small look around. “where are they?”

he simply shrugs and answers, “they only come out sometimes.”

you want to ask what he means by that, but you figure satoru would best know. speaking of, he must be shitting a big one or he’s trying to calm his nerves inside that bathroom down the hall.

the little boy hesitates, like he wants to ask another question but isn’t sure if he should. you give him an encouraging nod and he sighs. “can you bring sunny next time?”

—————————————————————

“when you said you were fostering, i assumed a pet or something. not an actual child.” you tell Satoru as he’s walking you to your apartment door.

the two of you stop in front and he takes this time to grin. “do i not look like a boy dad?”

your eyebrow raises with an unamused expression. “no, first off, you look like a girl dad. and second off, does he consider you his dad?”

“nah, not at all. more like an older brother if anything. or maybe that annoying uncle everyone hates.” he reaches forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “did he like you?”

“i hope so.” your lips purse. “i wasn’t exactly ready to pitch myself as a good person tonight to some kid.”

satoru chuckles, thumb lingering on your cheek. “don’t need to pitch yourself, just be you and he’ll like you just as much as i do. well—actually—hopefully not as much. i’d hate to have competition.”

you can’t help but roll your eyes. “he did mention a next time, though. wants me to bring my dog.”

“you mean that oversized human on all fours?”

your hand collides with his shoulder. he laughs and intertwines your fingers with his. “kidding, kidding. don’t get violent, at least not now.”

leaning down, his lips kiss your forehead smoothly, they linger for a few seconds before he mutters against your skin. “his names megumi, i hope you’ll get along.”

your stomach flutters during this moment, relishing in the easy and comfortable intimacy. you nod and murmur back. “of course.”

he pulls back and smiles down at you. just as he’s about to speak another cheesy line, you beat him to it.

“so….you talk about me a lot?”

[ivygguk]

jeon jungkook fic recs!!

One-shots:-

Campus affairs - @kooktrash

summary: you transferred to a new college during second semester and you didn’t expect much excitement out for. that’s until jungkook came along and what had struggled to be a friendship was becoming so much more.

Cool with you - @kooktrash

summary: your break up from kim taehyung sent you spiraling into what felt like a midlife crisis of tear stained cheeks and tubs of half eaten ice cream with a broken heart. after finding out that your neighbor, jeon jungkook, was eavesdropping on your meltdowns and came to find out that your ex was his old friend, he found himself wanting to comfort you. he knew the kind of guy Taehyung was and he didn’t want to see you beat yourself up over a guy who wasn’t worth it so in the end he helped you through it and was unable to ignore the growing attraction you felt toward each other.

Million dollar darling - @kooktrash

summary: jeon jungkook is well aware of how privileged he is to have been born into the life he was given. it was glamorous and influential yet close-knit and suffocating, something he thought he wanted to escape from. a trip back home to the circle of wealth and snottiness for his best friend’s million dollar wedding has reminded him of all the reasons why he wanted to leave in the first place… and all the reasons he should stay — the main one being you, the spoiled rich girl he knew was utterly perfect for him.

Close the distance - @hearts4joon

summary: two different adults, living two completely separate lives — in the same neighborhood. a guy whose overbearing mother makes him carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. a girl whose parents are all too drawn to her younger siblings to even give her the time of day. while the two fall in an unlikely relationship (very unlikely), they still ravish each and every part of one another in every way — the best of attention, the one they both craved all their lives.

Cat got your tongue - @jessikahathaway

Summary: You were exhausted from schoolwork and just needed a chance to unwind. Jungkook, campus fuckboy, offers his services to help alleviate the stress from studying but is he going to cause more stress than he relieves?

Anpanman - @honeymoonjin

summary: part of the love yourself collab run by yours truly. your best friend jungkook finally convinces you to seek therapy for your failing mental health. the only catch? the one therapist that’s within your price range is an alternative marriage counsellor, jung hoseok, and the only way jungkook managed to get you an appointment was by saying the two of you were married. will couples counselling actually be useful for your wellbeing, or will something that runs much deeper rise to the surface instead?

Paint me naked - @gimmethatagustd

summary: After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he’s not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?  

[buckyshoneybunny]

Spooky Secrets & Sweet Treats

College!Quarterback!Bucky Barnes + Curvy!College!Reader 

Summary- You and the gang decorate for Halloween and host a Halloween party. During which a heated argument starts up between you and Bucky, revealing some hidden truths. Will these new truths lead to a new relationship and a fresh start between you two, or will it become worse than before? 

W.C.- 3653 

Warnings- Smut, unprotected sex, poorly written smut

A/N- Hi! I really hope you guys like this, I honestly don’t know how to feel about this, like I love it but I also hate it lol. The picture above is roughly what the living room looks like, I designed it myself on a designing website. The other pictures aren’t mine. This will be part one of a series. Part two will be for Thanksgiving and part 3 Christmas, and so on. Not proof read. The back story I used is my own sooo yeah. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Oh and happy Halloween!!  

Masterlist  Series Masterlist

Having not eaten all day, your stomach rumbled in protest. You sat in the middle row of the lecture hall, Nat on one side, Yelena on the other. This was the last class of the day, your ADHD medicine wearing off causing you to be even more impatient. Your right leg bounced mindlessly under the table; Natasha placed her hand on your knee with a warning glance. You stop and mumble out an apology.   

You couldn’t help it honestly, today was Halloween, not your favorite holiday but still. You were sizzling with excitement. You, Natasha and Yelena (your roommate's), Nat’s boyfriend Steve and his two friends Sam and Bucky, were coming over after class. The guys would be making the food while you girls set out the decorations and got everything ready. That’s right, you were having a Halloween party!  

You were never one for parties, not that you didn’t like them you just weren’t ever invited in high school. No one wanted the shy girl at their party. But since meeting Nat and Lena you’ve grown more confident, you were still shy, that was just who you are, but you’re a little more outgoing than you once were.  

There was just one tiny problem, Bucky. You loathed that man, and according to him the feeling was mutual. Every little thing he did annoyed you, he made sure he went out of his way just to piss you off. With his stupid, cocky smirk, sparkling white teeth, gorgeous shoulder length, chocolate brown locks that he let grow out since meeting you. Even those shirts that seem three sizes too small, showing off his delicious abs that you just wanted to li- 

Stop that! 

You mentally climbed out of that rabbit hole, not wanting to go too deep. No matter how much you wanted to get a taste of the star quarterback, you hated each other and that was all it was ever going to be. 

After what you’re sure is another 20 minutes, the professor finally dismisses everyone. You quickly gather your things and dart out the lecture hall, Natasha and Yelena hot on your heels.   

Shivering as you stepped outside, you wrapped your jacket tighter around you, the cool autumn breeze blew about. Fall colored leaves littered the sidewalk, crunching under your feet. 

You smiled. You loved fall and winter, everything just seemed happier. Holidays back-to-back, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. You loved Christmas. The sparkle of Christmas lights, curling up on the couch wrapped in a blanket watching Christmas movies, you just loved it.   

The party started at nine, so you had roughly five and a half hours to get the supplies, set everything up, and get ready yourselves.  

“You excited?” Nat asks, drawing you away from your thoughts. You three walking to your house on the far end of the campus. It was a two story, three bedrooms, two bath house. Nat and Lena’s parents were rich, having some sort of high-end job in the government.  

“Duh,” you laugh.  

“Even though he’s going to be there?” Yelena pipes up. You sigh. 

“I’m determined to not let him get to me; I am going to have a good time tonight.” 

“You say that every time,” Nat snickers.  

“Yeah well, I mean it this time, he’s not ruining this party for me,” you defend.  

“You say that too,” Yelena giggles. 

“Say what?” The annoying voice you know too well asks before you can say anything. Turning around you find Bucky, Steve, and Sam following you guys. Steve wraps an arm around Nat, kissing her forehead. Sam ruffles Yelena’s hair.   

Clad in his signature black leather jacket, the six-foot something wall of muscle wore blue jeans, red henley under the jacket, and his combat boots. This isn’t fair, why does he have to look so hot? His hair pulled into a small bun at the base of his neck. 

“Nothing James,” you roll your eyes. You could see the tick in his jaw, he hated being called by his first name. 

 “Come on, princess,” he spits bitterly. “Keeping secrets from me now?” You just huff and keep walking in the direction of your house.  

Princess. That name made your blood boil, you despised it, and he knew it too. It wasn’t the name that bothered you really, just the way he said it, like you were some spoiled brat. You most definitely weren’t. You didn’t even know why he called you that, but that was the name he’d given you the night you first met. 

You weaved your way through the mass of people, trying to reach the kitchen. Natasha had dragged you to this party, claiming it was way past due to meet the gang. Yelena wasn’t any help, going right along with Nat’s plans. When one sister had her mind set to something, the other backed her up and to say they were a force to be reconned with was an understatement. 

Before you could reach the kitchen, you smacked right into a wall, or what you thought was a wall until two strong, veiny hands shot out to steady you before you could fall. Looking up you see a pair of steel blue eyes boring into yours. The man had a sharp, clean shaved jaw, his brown hair short and fluffy, and stuck up in all different directions. His full, pink lips moved, saying something you didn’t quite catch. You realized you had been staring for too long. 

“What?” You ask loud enough over the music.  

He chuckles. “I said, are you alright, ...?”  

“Oh! I’m Y/N, and yes, I’m fine. Thanks for catching me,” you smile. “And you are?” 

His smile falls. “Bucky,” he says gruffly. “Watch where you’re going next time, princess,” he spits out bitterly before expertly weaving through the crowd.  

You stood there confused for a moment, wondering what the hell happened. Natasha told you to give him some time and he’d warm up to you. To everyone’s surprise, he never did. 

Your shoulders relaxed as you breathed a contented sigh as you stepped inside your shared home. A fireplace with shelves lined on either side. When you moved in Nat and Yelena let you decorate, you had taken interior design in high school so you knew how to make certain things work. A light grey couch sat in the center, with a coffee table in front of it, and a TV mounted on the wall above the fireplace.  

Nat let you take the lead, directing everyone. She knew how your OCD and ADHD could get, especially when it comes to planning things like this, everything had to be a certain way. Bucky rolled his eyes and mumbled some smart remark under his breath. Once everyone was assigned a job you all got to work.  

Steve and Sam went to the store, Bucky started to chop firewood to help keep the house warm-you liked using that rather than the heater, made it cozier, plus it saved money. Nat and Yelena worked on getting the Halloween decorates out of the shed. You did a quick clean, making room for the foldable tables Steve and Sam were getting. You scolded Bucky when he tracked mud through the house, to which he flipped you off.  

Once the boys got back and the decorations were all set up and tables put up, everyone got ready. Natasha and Steve dressed up as superheroes, Sam as a Falcon, ever the nerd he is. Yelena dressed up as a vampire, Bucky was, well you didn’t know what he was. All you knew was he’s half naked and making your panties sticky.  

And last but not least, you dressed up as a bunny, well sort of. You wore a soft pink short cotton skirt with a bunny tail, a matching cotton crop, and bunny ears. Steve painted on a bunny nose. You were very unsure of the outfit at first, but Nat and Yelena, both assured you that your curves look delicious in that outfit.  

Once everyone was dressed Steve and Sam fired up the grill to start cooking, Nat and Yelena setting out the condiments and other various food items. Bucky got the fire going, having paused to help Steve and Sam set the tables up when they got back. You added a few finishing touches to the decorations, moving a few things, stuff like that. You idly wondered why Bucky was so quiet, usually he’d have you clawing your eyes out by now.  

But Bucky was in his own little world. He leaned back on his haunches once the fire was set. He glanced over at you, taking in your outfit. His tight ripped jeans did nothing to hide the effect it had on him. He'd seen you glance at his bare chest multiple times by now, he didn’t have a costume in mind. He just threw on some old, tight, ripped black jeans, if anyone asked what he was he’d think of something.  

He watched as you moved a few decorations, a pout on your soft pink lips. Your brows were furrowed in a frown, he wanted to reach out and smooth it with his thumb. He shook his head to try and clear those thoughts, looking away before you could catch him.  

Yes, he hated you, but that didn’t mean that your curves didn’t make his cock throb and his head fuzzy. The way you looked in those heels, how they made you sexy legs look long and soft. But you were this self-entitled princess who always had to have her way, it pissed him off, everyone loved you. Even your creative writing professor you guys had seemed to adore you, it made his blood boil that you were the teacher's pet. 

If only he knew. 

He remembers how you had him all figured out before you guys even met.  

Bucky scanned through the crowd of people in his house. He, Steve, and Sam threw a celebration party for winning last night's game. Steve had invited his girlfriend, which she invited her sister and their roommate.  

He was quite excited to meet this gorgeous angel Natasha always talked about. He spotted Natasha and Yelena; the third girl had her back to him. He could only assume the third girl was you, your soft Y/H/C pulled into a braid. The blue jeans you wore hugged your thighs, your tank top hugging your chest and curves. 

He smirked, you really were gorgeous. As he walked closer, he could hear your honeyed voice. He frowned when he heard what you were saying. 

“I don’t see how I could like someone like him,” you tell Nat. “He’s probably some fuckboy like every other football player. Some jerk with a high ego.”  

Your tone sounded disgusted; he huffed a breath. Any excitement he had for meeting you was long gone. He was so fucking tired of people associating him with the stereotypical quarterback. He wasn’t a fuckboy, far from it.  

He'd only been with a few women, contrary to what everyone believed. He didn’t fuck them and leave, no, his ma raised him better than that. He took them out, treated them right, the perfect gentlemen. He was dedicated to any and all his relationships, they just never seemed to work out.  

So, when he ran into you later that night, literally, he put up the wall that he hides behind and brushed you off.  

A couple of hours later the party is in full swing, people dancing, music blaring. You step out on the back patio, needing a break from the noise and people. You sit in one of the outside chairs, looking at the stars. You mentally scold yourself for not bringing a jacket as you shiver. You feel fuzzy as the whiskey you’d been drinking takes effect. 

A few minutes later a sweaty Bucky opens the sliding glass door. He pauses when he sees you. He huffs and closes the door, taking a deep breath of fresh air. You turn away from him, ignoring his presence. You hear the door open a couple of times before you feel a warm leather jacket being set over your shoulders.   

The jacket smells of leather and pine, mixed with something else, Bucky. You turn your head to see the man himself standing behind you.  

“I don’t need your stupid jacket, James,” you huff and move to slide said jacket off. He places his big hands on your shoulders, keeping the jacket in place.  

“Can you for once stop being a fucking brat and just take the goddamn jacket?” He snaps, feed up with your constant attitude.  

You shove his hands off you and stand up. “What the hell is your problem?!” You yell, finally at your breaking point.  

“My problem?!” He yells back. “My problem is you’re a self-entitled brat who always gets what she wants. Who thinks she knows everyone, well news flash princess, you don’t.”  

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”  

“You making assumptions about me before you even get to know me.” You give him a confused look so he continues. “That night at the party you told Nat how you couldn’t ever like someone like me, how I’m an egoistic fuckboy. I'm so fucking tired of people making assumptions.”  

Guilt settles into bones; you hadn’t realized he heard you. “Oh, Bucky I’m so-”  

“No, you know what?” He continues, cutting you off. “You’re the one with the high ego, everything just has to be your way, doesn’t it? This has to go there, that over there. Everything has to be perfect for little miss sunshine.”  

“Wh-” 

“No, you’re gonna shut the fuck up for once and listen to me. And it’s not just that, you always get what you want, everyone fucking babies you and adores you. Even the fucking professors love you. I mean it’s pretty obvious you’re a teacher’s pet-” 

“Enough!” You yell, your voice breaking. He goes quiet, panting from his rant.  

“I’m not the teacher’s pet, she checks up on me to make sure I’m okay. After she read my memoir for our memoir assignments, she started to check up on me. Making sure I was safe where I’m at, if I had a trusted adult to talk too.” 

“Awe, did the princess have a few bad memories that she wrote about? Hmm? Well news flash princess everyone has bad memories, that doesn’t excuse that you always get what you want.”  

“You know what, fine! You wanna know why I am the way I am?” You yell. “Growing up I didn’t have a fucking say in anything! I was treated like a piece of property; my own father called me his property! I did everything for them, I was 14! 14 and if I didn’t cook or clean no one would.” Your voice breaks. 

Bucky goes to say something but you keep going. “My own grandmother got my entire family to hate me and I was only 3, it took years for them to finally figure the truth out. My father would guilt trip me, manipulate me. I took care of my mother at her lowest, watched her on the verge of death and she still favors my brother. Nothing I ever did was good enough! I could go on forever about how fucked up everything was, James.” 

Bucky stands there in shock. “Wow...I um...” He doesn’t know what to say. 

“I’m sorry for judging you before I got to know you, I really am. But do not call me a brat and say I always get what I want.”  

You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. Both of you stand there in silence, filled with guilt at how you’ve both been acting.  

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. You nod. 

“Me too,” you whisper back. 

Neither one of you knows who moves first, but one moment you’re looking each other in the eye and the next Bucky has his tongue tangled with yours. He tastes of beer and cake, you moan softly, Bucky swallows the sound like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever had. 

His hands, both metal and flesh, grip your ass and pull you closer. His hard bulge grinds against your naval, he groans. When the need for air gets too great, Bucky pulls back and starts to litter your neck with sloppy wet kisses.  

“My room,” you shudder. “Now.” 

“So fucking bossy,” he grumbles. He throws you over his shoulder and goes back inside. No body pays any attention to either of you, too busy dancing or too drunk to care. He takes the stair two at a time.  

You get bold and slide your hands into his jeans, groping his bare ass, he had gone commando. He slaps your ass in retaliation, causing you to yelp. He finally reaches your bedroom, kicking the door shut and tossing you on the bed. You slide up the bed, shoving the pile of stuffed animals onto the floor as you go. Bucky kicks his boots off and climbs on top of you.  

Bucky attaches his lips to your neck, sucking and biting. You moan and pull the hairband out of his hair, tangling your fingers in the soft strands of hair. You tug and he groans, you tug harder and he bites down hard.  

He kisses down your collar bone to your chest, yanking the crop top off you and groaning when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He takes one nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping as it hardens. You let out a high-pitched whine, the pain mixing with pleasure. His metal hand kneads the other, causing you to shiver at the temperature difference. He switches, giving them both the same treatment.  

Once he’s had his fill, he starts to kiss down your stomach, hands groping your thighs.  

“These fucking thighs,” he grumbles. “You have any idea how many times I thought of these gorgeous, thick thighs. Fuck.” He’s thought of you? 

He pulls your skirt down your legs, tossing it somewhere behind him. He gently undoes the straps on your heels and slides them off. He slides his hands up your thighs, one hot and one cold, he spreads them and groans. He leans forward and licks at your clit through the fabric of your panties, moaning at the taste of your juices.  

“Bucky!” You gasp and grip his hair.  

“So fucking good,” he mumbles, mouthing at your pussy. He grips your ass, holding you up and shoving his face into your pussy even more. The fabric gets wetter, a combination of your juices and his saliva.  

You whine his name and tug his hair, pulling him back up to kiss him, moaning at the taste of your juices on his tongue.  

It’s a mess of messy kisses and fumbled movements as Bucky kicks off his jeans and socks, pausing to grind his cock against your panties. Your eyes widen when you see him, he chuckles and tells you not to worry, he’ll fit.  

“Bucky please,” you whine.  

“I know, baby, I know,” he presses a kiss to your cheek. “I gotta prep you first.” 

He rips your panties off, flinging the ruined fabric to the other side of the room. He reaches down with his flesh hand, spreading you slick over your clit before carefully inserting one finger.  

You moan and wiggle your hips, impatient. He flicks your thigh and tells you to be patient. He adds a second finger, then a third. He slowly opens you up, teasing and torturing you, rubbing that spot that makes you see stars.  

Two can play this game.  

You reach down and grab his aching cock, thumbing the slit and spreading the precum that’s gathered there. Bucky moans and bucks his hips, cursing.  

“Bucky please, I’m ready. Just fuck me already.”  

He grunts and pulls his fingers out, sucking them clean. “I’m clean but I have a condom in my wallet.” 

You shake your head. “I’m clean and on birth control.”  

“Fuck yes,” he groans. He flips you over, making you face down, ass up. “This fucking juicy ass.” He slaps your ass a couple of time, groping the juicy flesh hard.  

“Please,” you whine and push back against him.  

Finally, he takes pity on you and lines himself up. He slides all the way in on one thrust, both of you moaning. He gives you a moment to adjust before setting a brutal pace. 

He angles his thrusts just right and you don’t think you’ve ever been fucked this good in your whole life. He leans down, plastering his sweat slicked chest to your back and kisses your shoulder and neck.  

You make little noises with every thrust, fueling Bucky, his own groans and grunts right next to your ear.  

“So fucking tight, shit,” he moans into your shoulder. He reaches down and starts to rub tight circles over your clit and you cry out.  

“Fuck! Bucky please!” 

“Can feel you squeezing me, baby. You gonna cum? Hmm?”  

“Yes! Please! I’m so close!” You moan. 

“Cum.” His thrusts turn even more punishing, if possible, focusing on that spot. Your thighs start to shake. His perfect thrusts and the pressure on your clit push you over the edge. Your eyes roll back, hands griping the sheets so tight they could rip.  

Bucky's pace stutters, you clenching his so tight he cums seconds after you do. He collapses on top of you, both of you trembling and panting.  

He rolls off you to the side, pulling the sheets over you both and spooning you from behind. You both succumb to sleep minutes later, too exhausted to talk about what just happened. 

______ 

The morning sun shines through your blinds, the birds chirp outside your window. You groan and roll over, not wanting to get up just yet. You reach out for Bucky, only to find cold sheets.  

Bucky was gone. 

[jesuistrestriste]

Something Something art oral fixation...sucking the strap idk

nsfw 18+ // deepthroating, strap sucking, premature ejaculation

Art had spent the last hour sprawled out on the bed for you, the lubed-up translucent silicone strap being rutted down against his aching cock with each roll of your hips, and now you wanted him to suck on it?

It was absolutely covered in his own precome, for god's sake!

And yet, here he was: kneeling down in front of the edge of the bed, his face between your parted thighs, and his body leaning forward so that he can lick up the length and taste himself on it.

You could never say he didn't do anything for you.

You smile and gaze down at him tenderly, your hand in his hair as he engulfs the tip of the flexible pink dildo in the warmth of his mouth. You moan softly just at the sight and nod to him.

"That's it," you murmur lowly, "s'pretty for me, babe.."

He moans around the thickness filling his mouth, and looks up to you desperately with his lidded blue eyes. His hands move to eagerly hold onto your hips, but you're quick to swat them away and shake your head.

He whines, hollowing his cheeks as saliva pools under his tongue and around the strap.

"No touching, mkay?"

He nods and moves his hands down to his lap, but not without a noise of protest first. His cock is stiff and weeping against his abdomen, but his focus is still on you.

It's always on you.

"Like sucking my cock?" you smirk teasingly, your fingers in his hair working to push his head down a little.

He winces as he feels the back of his throat being prodded and entered, and a stifled gag causes his body to lurch forward before he lets his eyes roll back. He nods again, this time with a muffled groan.

You chuckle and bite your lip as you buck your hips a little, forcing an extra half inch to thrust in and out of his pliable mouth.

He swallows thickly and moans headily, his eyes fluttering shut now as he works to take your strap as far down as he can. He gags again softly, and it roars a fire in your gut.

He's so good; a fucking natural.

If you didn't know any better—i.e., if you didn't know how much of an oral fixation he had, and how many times he's had your fingers in his mouth, or how much he liked to suck and chew and lick on things—you'd think he was just a whore.

But you did know better.

He loves shit like this. It soothes him, like cool water over sizzling coals, but it also gets his dick jumping. It was a win-win for him, and for you.

You remove your touch from Art's blonde curls and smirk as you watch his head begin to bob in earnest, sucking and slobbering all over the silicone with every movement. His idle fingers twitch and squeeze at his own thighs, and he knows that if you allowed him just one touch to himself he would burst almost immediately.

"Mmph—mmm," he moans around you, his eyes blinking back open to look up as he lathes his tongue along the underside of the faux cockhead, like he's really sucking on a part of you; wanting to please you with every fiber of his being, as if you could truly feel the way his hot mouth works over every inch of the rubbery rod that he can take.

Your palms flatten out behind you as you lean back on them and train your eyes to follow the way your boyfriend's mouth makes the inches disappear and reappear with every sloppy motion. Your arousal grows hotter and hotter and hotter as you continue to watch, but you ignore it for now. You had other plans at the forefront.

"Suckin' the strap like a pro, aren't you? Mouth workin' like a pornstar's," you coo and hum sweetly.

He shudders and nods the best he can before he suddenly slides his mouth all the way down to the base of the dildo, his nose pressing into your lower abdomen, and then he just.. holds himself there.

Ever the overachiever, he stays like that for a few long moments.

Art squeezes his eyes shut and his cheeks puff up momentarily with a soft gag. He swallows thickly around the intrusion. Tears begin to prick and fill his eyes from the exertion, but he only swallows once more and whines in response to it; all pretty and high-pitched.

"Fuck," you breathe out, before he pulls himself completely off and splutters as thick strings of drool connect his lips and chin to the top of the bouncing pink length. He gasps for air and coughs, wiping at his chin before he leans in again and rests his cheek on your knee wearily. Art's hips jolt forward against nothing but air as he shivers in his seat on the floor.

You lean in as well now, sitting more upright as you glance down to his cock just in time to read his body's tells.

He's gonna cum.

He pants heavily against your leg before he suddenly seizes up in the next instant and lets out a sharp, strangled cry; almost as if the force and abruptness of his orgasm is taking him wholly by surprise. You moan softly as he shakes, his dick jumping as it squirts out rope after rope of his load into the air and onto his thighs and stomach. Completely untouched.

Your hands come down to gently rub at his trembling upper back as he moans softly and blinks away the wetness threatening to spill down his flushed face.

"Oh my god, baby," you speak gently and sensually, "so hot.. I didn't give you permission yet though.."

He whimpers, bottom lip wobbling, and his hands can no longer be still. He reaches up with hesitant arms and clings to your body.

"Sorry, 'm sorry.. I couldn't help it— couldn't stop it— I tried, babe-" he squirms, his intense climax leaving his brain muddled as he recovers.

A soft sigh escapes your lips and you shake your head.

"It's okay, it's alright.. I'm not mad, just teasing."

He whines softly, fingers digging into the softness of your flesh.

"I can go again," he murmurs weakly, almost slurring, "promise."

And what more could you possibly want to hear?

You smile as a soft chuckle spills forth, and then reach up to card your fingers through his hair as his curls tickle your leg where his head still rests.

"Yeah?"

"Mmh, yeah.."

"Okay.. then why don't you come up on the bed again for me?" you whisper.

He keens weakly and slowly pushes himself up onto his knees, cum dripping down his body, so that he can start to do what you've asked of him.

"Good.. Lean on me, I'll help you," you breathe out, "and then we can have some real fun.."

[luveline]

HI MLLLL! I absolutely loved your fainting fic with James! Can you write like a part a part 2 or like a follow up where reader starts realizing that James isn’t as bad as she thought and she falls for him as he takes care of her bc he’s really worried? I love them sm 🥹

James takes care of you when you faint

James is acting weirder than usual… sort of… nice? fem, 1.2k

The days after you faint are just as hot, but you come into work. You can’t afford to miss it, and it’s not as though you’ll make the same mistake twice. 

The memory of what happened is hazy at the start. James had just opened the window, the breeze that filtered in cooling your hot skin. You’d felt sick, you’d tried to stand, and your head had gone blank. 

You woke with your face in James’ hand. You can remember it if you think about it enough, his head tilted down toward you, the sunshine on his skin, his soft smile. He’d felt like a different person. 

You’d felt different. 

“Can you send me that information from the lab, please?” 

You glance away from your computer, eyes tired. “Sorry?” 

“For the, uh, Mr. Nguyen?” James asks. “You didn’t send them to me. I can’t do them if you don’t send them.” 

“Right.” You blink away the phantom of his hand on your cheek. “Okay.” 

“Are you feeling alright?” 

That’s all he asks. Every day since you passed out, at various times and in various ways. Are you okay? Are you alright? Is it too hot in here? Do you want to swap desks with me? That last one had been a little patronising. You’d told him to leave you alone. Your desk is right next to the radiator in winter, it’s prime real estate, and you’re not giving it up just because you got a bit hot. 

“I’m fine,” you murmur, turning back to your computer to open outlook. “Just thinking.” 

“About what?” 

“About you not talking to me.” 

“Funny.” 

You drag and drop the paperwork for the tests he’d wanted. It’s easy to render an invoice but you hate doing it because it involves a lot of talking back and forth with clients. James, on the other hand, loves to talk. 

“There, sent it,” you say.

“Thank you.” 

Awkward. You pretend to be busier than you are for a few minutes, stealing company time without remorse. James types up an email beside you, the click of his keys quick and loud in your ears. 

Remus pops a pen lid across the way, scribbling onto a post it note that he sticks on his monitor. You know what time it is from the sounds alone. A half a minute later, Sirius slinks up from the front of the office to wrap his arm around Remus’ shoulders, sing-songing, “You’re coming with me, handsome.” 

“Are you coming?” Remus asks James. 

There’s a lapse of quiet. You stare at your computer, aware of a silent conversation, but not privy to its content. “I think I’ll stay,” James says eventually. 

“Okie dokie. Y/N, do you want to come, lovely?” Remus asks. “It’s not too hot.” 

“I’m fine,” you say, “thanks. Thank you.” 

You don’t feel like yourself since you fainted. You’d hoped it would go away once you had a better night’s sleep, flooded your system with cold water and good food, but you can’t kick it. You have no energy, no want to do more than turn up for work and go home again, and you know what it is that’s making you feel this way, but you can’t admit it to yourself. It crops up in your mind unbidden and you push it back down. 

“Sirius never used to act like that.” 

“What?” 

“Sirius. He was never like that when we were growing up. Love makes him pathetic.” 

Love is a tender touch. Sirius had laid his arm over Remus’ shoulder without any hug or kiss, but it was as loving as either. To touch someone like they need a kind hand. 

Like James had held your face. His arm behind your back as he led you to the break room. 

“Do you wanna come with me?” James asks. 

You hold in a second confused, What? He’s standing now, you hadn’t noticed him moving, his water bottle in hand as he pushes his chair back under the desk. 

“Don’t wanna leave you here and have you smash your head in when there’s no one around. Imagine the clean up.” 

You get up on impulse. You grab your drink, and the back of your chair, and you stand there wondering if you’re about to be dizzy again. Your chest feels tight, but that weight of unconsciousness doesn’t come. 

“Hey,” James says. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not like you today.” 

There’s a softness in his voice you can’t believe. “Can I eat lunch with you?” 

You wish that you said it to avoid the question. James wrinkles his nose, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach, but then he says, “I just invited you first.” 

“I… have to get my stuff from the fridge.”

“Me too.”

You walk slowly, worried it’s a joke, another stupid joke, but James comes up behind you and his hand graces your shoulder with the barest pressure. You can smell something sweet and warm on him, like jojoba oil. Maybe argan. “Sure you’re okay? You look peaky. Is it the heat?” he murmurs.

“It’s supposed to rain tonight.” 

“You can’t answer anything, can you?” James laughs with a vocal fry that goes straight to your chest. “I could ask you how many fingers you’d have and you’d tell me you have two hands.” 

James walks with you to the kitchen, where you gather your food and warm it in the microwave. He leads you to the break room, and makes sure to choose a table with enough space for you, even while people he’s friendly with beckon him forward. They look at you with unashamed curiosity, but James pretends not to notice so you do too. 

You’re expecting a joke. Aw, look, we’re finally on a date. Or Wow, you know how to use a spoon, I had no idea you were so dexterous. 

“Did you see they’re making a new movie about those aliens? The ones who can hear you everywhere you go?” 

You squeeze your spoon. “Uh, no, I didn’t see it.” 

“It looks awesome. I’ll show you the trailer on my computer after lunch, it looks just as good as the first two. That actress, the one with the really nice eyes is in it.” 

You have no idea who he means. James talks to you like a friend. He offers you some of his papris and he passes you a napkin from his pocket when you get food on your hands. James Potter might actually be a really nice guy. All it took was for you to garner his pity for him to show it. How pathetic you must seem to need it. 

“How do you feel now?” he asks as you clip the lid back onto your Tupperware. “You look better. Do you feel better?” 

“I’m fine, James.” 

“You frown so much I can’t tell.” He butts his knee against yours. “Alright, batten the hatches, I’m gonna carry you back to your desk.” 

“Why?” you ask in a rush. 

“Can’t fall if you don’t walk.” 

“James, don’t try it. I’m serious.” 

“You don’t sound serious. You sound like you want me to carry you.” 

“I’ll report you to Human Resources.” 

“For what? Being helpful?” 

“Harassment.” 

“Fine, but I’m not gonna catch you this time.” 

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 12 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley embark on the babymoon of your dreams where a warm beach and hot sauce await. When you not only indulge his current fantasy but allow him to take it to the next level, he's more excited than ever for the future.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, lactation kink, cockwarming, slight exhibitionism

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"I wish you could fly us there in your Super Hornet. We would save so much time."

Bradley kissed the top of your head as you wrapped your hands around his bicep and snuggled against him. "Sweetheart, I got us first class tickets for a reason," he murmured. "I'm getting sick of sitting in an uncomfortable cockpit seat every day."

"I thought you bought first class seats because you love me and Rosie and wanted us to be comfortable."

You were looking up at him with your chin propped on his arm and a smirk on your face. "Well, yeah. That, too," he promised, and you laughed. "But I'm getting old, and the seats are uncomfortable."

"You're not old, Roo," you told him with an eye roll. "You're just right."

Bradley relaxed back in his aisle seat as you stretched up to kiss the gray hairs that were starting to show along his temple. He was tired, but he knew you were as well. It had been a long week at work for both of you, and now the commercial airplane was starting to pull away from the gate. In approximately five hours, it would touch down in Loreto, Mexico for five days in the sun.

A bit of a January cold snap had taken over San Diego, and everyone at work seemed a little jealous about the babymoon location. But truthfully, Bradley had really only chosen it with you in mind. The luxury resort was right on a beautiful beach, and there was a chef who taught cooking classes every day. Bradley could already picture you happily sunbathing before attending the hot sauce demonstration. He was just along for the ride, happy to go anywhere that you and Rosie wanted to.

You kissed his ear and whispered, "As soon as we get to the hotel, I need you."

Bradley groaned in response and then laughed. "I literally just fucked you three hours ago."

"That was three hours ago."

"How do you make it through a day at work right now? Please explain that to me."

"Very carefully," you told him.

Your hormones were all over the place, and Bradley had taken to checking your blood pressure before and after any sort of sexual activities. He knew he was probably going overboard, but you had mild preeclampsia, and he was feeling more protective of you than ever before in spite of your protests that you and the baby were fine.

"I'll make a deal with you," he murmured as the plane took off. "How about you order a meal from the flight attendant while I take a nap, and then when we're alone, we can do whatever you want."

Your eyes lit up, and Bradley was already half asleep a few minutes later when he heard you ordering a wrap and a fruit bowl.

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

The resemblance of the hotel in Loreto to the Four Seasons in Waikiki was uncanny, and you were trying to keep your cool while Bradley chatted with the woman at the concierge desk. You were having honeymoon flashbacks, and it was making you dangerously horny as you laced your fingers with his and gave him a little tug.

"Roo," you whispered, pressing your nose to his bicep and inhaling deeply. You knew that he knew what you needed, but he just kept on laughing at everything the other woman said. Now he was asking her questions. Another few minutes of this, and you were going to lose it. 

You were about to tell him that social hour was over, but she started laughing at something. As soon as he mentioned that you were pregnant, she looked at you instead of Bradley and started making a fuss over your belly. Next thing you knew, you got a free room upgrade. 

"Why do you think I talk to everyone like I do?" Bradley asked, pulling you into his arms when you were finally alone with him in your hotel room which overlooked the beach and had a private plunge pool. "You never know when they might decide to give you an upgraded room."

Now he was the one following you around, trying to undress you, while you checked out the stunning accommodations in awe. "Good job, Daddy," you muttered. "You got us a private pool. And we can sit out on the patio and watch the sun rise tomorrow. Oh! And we can order room service for breakfast!"

You were about to step outside and see how warm the pool was when Bradley grabbed you from behind by your hips. "Get back in here. You can't just whine for my cock for an entire flight and then act like a brat in the lobby and expect me not to be hard as a rock by the time we get to the room."

It was impossible to contain your smile as his hands found their way up inside your shirt. And that's when you felt just how hard he was. "I wanted to check out the pool," you whined, knowing you'd get an even bigger reaction out of him.

"And you will," he promised, turning you around and pulling your shirt over your head. "Just as soon as I fuck you and check your blood pressure."

"Bradley, did you seriously bring the blood pressure cuff with us?" you asked as he unhooked your bra.

"Yeah," he grunted. "Of course I did. I promised Dr. Morris we'd keep a close eye on it." Then he swiped his thumb along your nipple, and your entire body reacted to him as he stared longingly at your chest and said, "Good god, your tits are exquisite."

"My bras don't really fit anymore," you whispered as he dropped yours to the floor.

He moaned your name. "I did happen to notice that." Your breasts were in his big hands, and he gave you a hard squeeze, making your head tipped back. Your nipples felt a little sore, but his calloused fingers gave you an undeniably delightful sensation when he touched you. "Jesus, Baby Girl. They are fucking huge. And so warm." Your husband had been fixating on your chest throughout your entire pregnancy, but right now, his pupils were wide, and his voice was impossibly raspy as he gently pinched you. 

"Roo," you gasped, unable to process the pleasure with a bit of pain except to grab him closer. "Do it again."

"Fuck." He guided you so you were sitting on the edge of the bed, and you watched him unbutton his shirt. He tossed it aside and pulled his undershirt off as well, and you placed a kiss to his abs before unzipping his jeans. Once he was undressed, you tried to suck his cock, but all you were able to do was get one good lick in before he took a step away from you.

"Please?" you whined, but he was shaking his head.

"I'll come in two minutes if you start doing that," he rasped. "And I want to spend some quality time with your tits first."

"Oh," you said with a smile, smashing your breasts gently together. "Like this? A titty fuck?"

You watched him touch himself as his eyes were glued to what you were doing with your hands, but he shook his head again. "No," he whispered, licking his lips. "I want my mouth on you."

As you leaned back on the bed and started to pull your leggings and underwear down, you watched his cheeks grow a deeper shade of pink as your breasts bounced. "Roo," you whispered. "You can put your mouth anywhere you want." But his gaze never wavered as he palmed his cock and climbed into bed with you. Neither suitcase was unpacked. You hadn't even finished exploring the room. But your husband was pulling your nipple between his lips, and you knew you were in this for the long haul.

He released you with a pop as you dragged your fingers through his hair, and he murmured, "You're fucking perfect." Then he kissed your round belly and said, "And so are you." Then he tossed all of the throw pillows to the floor and sat with his back against the headboard and patted his thigh. "Come here?"

You crawled up the bed to get to him, and he groaned as he watched you, his cock jumping with excitement. He wanted full access to your boobs; you knew that much. But you desperately needed to feel him. When you straddled his waist, his hands were on your chest, but when you eased yourself down around his length, his eyes went wide. "Let me just keep you warm while you take your time," you told him with a smile.

The sensation of feeling so completely full was incredible, and Bradley kissed along your tender breasts as he let his hands rest on your bump. "God damn it," he panted. "Your nipples are fucking delicious." He lapped at the underside of one breast before trailing his nose along one furled peak and then the other. When you moaned and clenched around him, his hands crept back to your hips, pulling you down harder until you gasped. But his mouth stayed on your chest.

He was obsessed. It was like he couldn't help himself. And he seemed to be getting worse, which you actually kind of loved, if you were being honest. Your weird, pregnant body seemed to just make him hornier, but especially your breasts. As he nipped hungrily at your chest, you decided to test a theory that had formed in your mind. "If you love them this much now, what are you going to do when I'm actually lactating?"

Bradley met your gaze, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. "Fuck," he whimpered. His Adam's apple bobbled as he swallowed hard, and he thrust slowly up into you.

You kissed his forehead and whispered, "You've been going wild for months, Roo."

Your husband looked embarrassed as he nodded and pressed his nose to the valley between your breasts. His mustache prickled your skin as he said, "I don't know why. I just can't get enough. They feel... warmer. And you smell insanely good. And I just can't stop thinking about how you look and taste right now."

You took his face in your hands as you wiggled your hips, and you were rewarded with the needy sound of his grunting. "You're blushing so much, Bradley. But you don't need to be embarrassed. I don't think I'll ever get over how much you like my body this way."

"It's perfect. You're always perfect. I love you."

You nodded and kissed his forehead again as he ran his fingers along both of your nipples. "I love you, too. But I want an answer, so I'm going to ask you one more time... If you love them this much now, what are you going to do when I'm actually lactating? Leaking breast milk and feeding the baby?"

Your husband's brown eyes looked like melted chocolate as he took a few deep breaths. His brow was furrowed, and his voice was deep and needy as he asked, "What will you let me do?"

Your eyes went wide as you gasped, and you ran your thumb across the scars on his pink cheek while he squeezed at your tits, his expression timid and skittish. You weren't used to seeing him like this, and you knew you were completely in control here. You were turned on beyond reason as you took a deep breath and asked, "Would you like it if I let you taste me when I'm lactating?"

He didn't hesitate, voice low as he said, "Fuck. Yes."

You tipped your head back for a beat while he kissed your nipples. "And would you like to rub your cock all over them while they leak, Roo? Titty fuck me until I'm an absolute mess?"

He growled your name, and then in an instant, you were on your back in the middle of the massive bed. He was fucking you hard, your breasts bouncing as he watched them before burying his face against your neck. His hips were relentless, pounding into you as he muttered, "I want to taste what you'll feed to the baby."

"Oh, god!" you moaned, voice quivering from how hard he was fucking you.

"I want to lick you everywhere, but especially all over your gorgeous tits, Sweetheart. I keep thinking about how you'll taste when you have milk, and it's driving me crazy."

"Bradley," you whined, tugging on his hair as his mouth found your breasts. "I'll let you do anything you want."

He withdrew his cock and knelt above you, one hand gently caressing your belly as he jerked off onto your breasts and your necklace charms. His cheeks were still pink, but he was looking at you with needy certainty now. There was nothing to worry about. You knew what he wanted, and he seemed pleased that he didn't have to put the words together himself.

He leaned down and kissed your lips, running one finger through his cum and then feeding it to you. "If you'll let me, then I'll do it all."

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

Bradley thought perhaps he should be embarrassed. He knew his thoughts were a little depraved as of late. Your breasts were his achilles heel at the moment, and he already knew he wouldn't be able to contain himself once you actually started leaking breast milk. He liked to imagine it. Liked to think about sucking on your swollen tits. He even enjoyed the mental image of running the tip of his cock along your leaking nipples before asking you to give him head.

But you just indulged him in his fantasies. You got him to admit what he wanted, and you told him he could have it all. Then you licked up some of his cum as he fed it to you before pulling him into the shower and holding a completely normal conversation with him while you lovingly washed his hair. Alright. So you were definitely more than okay with how badly he wanted to lick up after your breasts as soon as they started leaking.

"I'm so in love with you," he interjected as both of you toweled off. You just smiled and kissed him before flouncing back into the bedroom with your hand on your belly. Then he took your blood pressure, making sure it was completely normal, while you looked at the room service dinner menu.

"Bradley!" you almost screamed, and he dropped the blood pressure cuff on his foot. "They serve twenty different kinds of hot sauce!"

"Why do you think I brought you to this specific resort?" he asked, picking up the cuff and putting it away safely while you read off all of the different kinds of hot peppers in the sauce varieties. "I signed you up for a private hot sauce making lesson with one of the chefs tomorrow."

"You did?" you gushed, looking up at him like he just told you he bought you a hot pepper farm of your own. "That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

"I thought you and Rosie would have a good time trying some specialty samples and making one of your own," he said with a shrug before running his hand along your belly.

"Well, you're officially the best husband ever." You handed him the menu and said, "Rosie and I are starving. I want the tacos, the taquitos, and the catch of the day, but I'm too embarrassed to call it in myself."

"Got it. Why don't you go relax on the patio, and I'll meet you out there?"

He watched you though the open French doors, admiring the perfect curve of your cheek and your round belly in the fading sunlight as he ordered an absurd amount of food along with two virgin margaritas. He asked them to send a few of the hot sauces for you to try, and then when he ended the call, he went rushing outside to be with you.

Just as you finally got cozy on his lap, the plethora of food arrived, and Bradley groaned as he stood to let them bring it in. As soon as you had the taco platter in front of you, your eyes lit up, and you started trying all of the sauces. Once he took a sip of both margaritas and confirmed there was no tequila involved, he handed one to you and took a seat at the patio table.

You laughed and asked, "What do you want me to do with this?"

"There's no alcohol. I got two in case you want both." He bit into his own meal which tasted even better than he anticipated, and the sound of the Gulf of California just beyond the short stretch of beach left him feeling very relaxed. "Or maybe the Nugget wants her own."

You took a sip and grinned. "Well, you've thought of everything. What else do you have planned for this long weekend?"

"You'll find out," he promised. 

That first night, you fell asleep curled up at his side with a full belly and your hand resting on his chest. He'd left the Nugget notebook at home, and truthfully he didn't have much on his mind other than the fact that anything involving your tits was apparently fair game for him, so he decided to just talk to his daughter quietly instead of jotting anything down.

"Hey, Rose the Nugget," he whispered, feeling her thump as soon as he let his hand rest on the side of your bump. "It's Daddy." He smiled as she squirmed a bit, and honestly he didn't know how you were ever able to get any sleep when she was like this. "I love you. I can't wait to meet you in about eight weeks. Don't give your mom too hard a time, okay? No blood pressure spikes or anything like that. You just take it easy in there while I take care of her out here."

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

"Let's start with one habanero and see how you like the spice level before we add too much."

You nodded at Chef Santiago and did your best to mimic him cutting up the hot pepper. You were in the kitchen wearing latex gloves, a hair net and an apron over the adorable dress you bought. If you had known what Bradley had planned, you'd have packed something other than a pile of cute outfits and lingerie for the babymoon.

Not that your husband was complaining. His cock was in you just moments after you woke this morning. And when you got dressed earlier, he made a comment about how good your breasts looked and threatened to take you back to bed. If you didn't have plans with a hot sauce professional for the afternoon, you'd have let him.

"That looks perfect," Chef Santiago told you, and you moved on to the next step, trying to memorize everything you were learning. There were so many tiny nuances that would apparently raise or lower the spice level of a hot sauce, and you never knew it. 

You could already imagine turning your own kitchen at home into a workshop while you make a signature hot sauce for Christmas presents at the end of the year. Bradley would be holding Rose to let her watch, telling her about how hot the peppers were and then probably singing a Red Hot Chili Peppers song to make her giggle. You'd be in your apron, dancing around to their nonsense.

"Now we're ready to blend." You looked up at Chef Santiago as he pulled you from your beautiful daydream. He was plugging in a blender, and you nodded in agreement. 

"Yes. Time to blend it."

When you were finished, you left the kitchen with two bottles of the most delicious hot sauce you could imagine. Even the orange-red color was pretty, and you went right out to the beach instead of back to the hotel room. Bradley had supposedly gone kayaking while you were creating your masterpiece, but when you found him on a lounge chair between the pool and the sand, he was laying on his stomach, sound asleep and snoring.

"Roo," you whispered, running your fingers along his glistening, sweaty bicep. His mustache twitched, but that was it. "Bradley," you said a little louder, tracing a scar on his cheek. Even when you poked his neck and raked your fingers through his hair, he just kept snoring. "Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw."

With a groan, he cracked his eyes open against the afternoon sunlight. "Are you talking to me or yourself?" he asked, carefully rolling onto his back.

"You!" He liked to tease that you both had the same name at work, even though your last name was hyphenated. "You're going to get sunburned."

"Nah, I sprayed myself before kayaking," he insisted, reaching for your belly. "Did my girls have fun?"

"Absolutely," you replied, shaking your hot sauces as he pulled you down onto the chair next to him. "How was kayaking?"

He flexed as he lounged back on the chair. "It was a decent upper body workout. You gonna let me try the hot sauce?"

Now you were distracted. "Do that again," you whispered with a smile, and this time when he flexed, he tightened up his abs too. "Let's go back to the room for a quickie and some more sunblock, and I'll let you taste my hot sauce."

"That sounds like a euphemism," he murmured, but he was already standing up. "I'm in."

When you got back to the room, he wasn't quick at all. He was languid and methodical, skin warm from baking in the sun. His hair smelled like sweat and salt water, and his voice was deep as he made so many promises to you.

"I can't wait for Rose to get here. I love her so much already. I'm gonna take care of both of you forever."

True to form, his mouth was all over your chest, and he made sure you came before he indulged himself in some deep thrusts, filling you up as he called out your name against your neck. Two minutes after he cleaned you up, you already wanted more, but he looked tired, and he definitely got more sun than he thought he did.

"Come here," you coaxed, leading him out to the patio where you took a few minutes to coat him up with sunblock, kissing him each time you had to squeeze some more out of the tube.

"Thanks, Baby Girl," he murmured.

"This is purely selfish," you told him, licking his ear before putting a dab of sunblock there. "If you get a bad burn, you'll be out of commission, and you know how horny I am right now."

When you started to walk away, he reached for the hem of your dress and grabbed your thigh. You met his gaze once again, and the needy look there made you swallow hard. "Why don't you put on your red bikini from our honeymoon? We can go down to the water for a bit."

You knew he really wanted to see you wearing it with a big belly, but you felt a bit self conscious. The thing was skimpy enough before you were pregnant. But when he started stroking your tattoo through your dress, you whispered, "Let me get changed."

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

Bradley had his arm casually slung over your shoulders as the two of you walked along the beach in the early evening sun. It was a little less crowded now, and you were chattering away and wearing his aviators as you dropped your tote bag off at two empty chairs. Everyone was looking at you and your bump. You were some sort of combination of adorable and sexy at the moment, but he especially appreciated that you were wearing his sunglasses. 

Just when he was ready to settle down and potentially take a nap with you this time, you shook your head and started leading him down to the water. He was exhausted from the sex and sun, but you were wearing your tiny honeymoon bikini, and he could see your rooster tattoo below your belly.

"This was your idea," you told him, playfully tugging on his arm while your tits bounced slightly. "You're the one who wanted to go in the water."

Bradley grunted softly and pretended that you were capable of pulling him where you wanted him to go. "I thought it was your idea," he teased, and you shot him a bland look over his aviators

"Come on, Daddy," you coaxed as your feet hit the water. You were grinning nonstop as you added, "If you're good, I'll show you my boobs when we get out there."

Bradley made sure his footing was solid, and you squealed when he picked you up and carried you into the water. "Roo! You're a maniac!"

The salty water splashed up around your body as you laughed, and soon Bradley was in waist-deep water with you clinging to the front of him. "You act like you don't know exactly what's going to get me going right now," he said, nipping at your lips. "Now show me the goods."

You kissed him hard and then whispered, "You have to work for it."

You wiggled free, and he chased you around in the water for a few minutes while you splashed him. Every time you glanced back over your shoulder to see where he was, your smile grew. Slowly he closed the distance, reaching for you under the water. When his hands found your hips, you let him pull you back until you were pressed against him. He could feel your quickening pulse when he kissed along your neck, and it matched his. Bradley spun you slowly in his arms so you were facing him, and he toyed with the ties on both sides of your bikini bottoms as your belly pushed against him.

With bright eyes, you looked up at him and bit your lip. Water droplets fell from his sunglasses where they were perched on the end of your nose and splashed against your tits. You glanced to your left and right, but there was nobody else in the water near the two of you. Saliva pooled on Bradley's tongue as his gaze followed your fingers to your bikini top, and you slowly pulled at the red triangles until he was staring longingly at your pert nipples as the salty water dripped onto your chest.

"That's more like it," he grunted, running his thumb along your wet skin and leaning down to kiss you there before you covered yourself up again. You always got his heart pumping harder, but right now, everything felt perfect. Your blood pressure seemed to be under control, and the baby was healthy. He was tired, but you were clearly having a great time.

The sky was growing darker now as the sun had set, and the purple and pink swirls mixed with blue giving everything a dreamy feel. You held onto him in the water, your head coming to rest against his shoulder so your lips brushed along his collarbone when you spoke.

"I love it here."

"In Loreto?" he asked, kissing your forehead. "We can always come back again when Rosie is older. The two of you can take a hot sauce class together."

You made a soft sound and said, "Yeah, I like it in Loreto, but I was talking about being snuggled up in your arms."

He felt soft inside as he whispered, "I love you." Then he closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of your pregnant body against his and the sound of your even breathing. 

Just when he didn't think the moment could possibly get any better, somehow it did. You kissed his chest and said, "I was thinking about middle names and trying to decide what sounds good with Rose." You paused and tipped your head back, so he opened his eyes, and you asked, "What about Carole?"

Rose Carole Bradshaw. The words swirled around in his mind, and he knew that was without a doubt his daughter's name. She would always get to carry a piece of the grandmother she would never get to meet. The grandmother who would have loved her beyond measure. 

It was hard to breathe as a happiness he'd never felt before filled his chest. All he could do was nod and whisper, "That's absolutely perfect."

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

Kink: unlocked. I can't wait to see Bradley in action after Rosie arrives. Just a few more chapters without the little Nugget! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 13

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[simpjaes]

Enhypen drabble when you get overstimulated (sorry idk if you have done this already)

hyung line + when you're overstimulated

★ heeseung:

the type to do it entirely on purpose and relish in the way you plead, writhe, and try to get away from him on instinct. the best part of it is that he knows you want him to keep going, you've told him before. so, yes, he'd hold you down and only go harder. after all, the fact that you'll let your clit hurt for him drives him up a fucking wall. he'd definitely make sure to pull it out of you any and every time he gets between your legs. pinching and biting you, rubbing too harshly just after an orgasm to keep you in the game, licking up your pretty tears and making damn sure you're struggling to decide if he's hurting you or making you feel better than he ever has.

☆ jay:

does it without really realizing he is but loves the way you act nonetheless. always such intimate sex until you're shifting your body and your legs are shaking. little whimpers and pants of "slow down," and "i'm too sensitive." i think it would make something break in his brain, to where he would absolutely slow down but he wouldn't stop. if anything, he'd probably watch you more intensely, fuck you deeper, and essentially probably cum far too quickly after seeing you let him do as he pleases solely because he meets you half way with it.

on another note, im a fan of jay getting lost in the heat of the moment and absolutely just going, going, going. through your orgasm, making your entire body feel too hot to the point you feel light headed. and you know, he'd be so lost in the sauce that he probably wouldn't even realize that he's nearly bruising your pussy ;o; only after the fact would he realize and give you a million kisses like "omg im so sorry, why didn't you say anything?" but then you'd just be like "it felt good after a while...." and BOOM, he's horny again.

★ jake:

does it to you both intentionally and unintentionally. very much a mix of both heeseung and jay with this motherfucker right here. he'll be in the middle of trying to torture your clit then lose his cool and start chasing his own pleasure. probably the type to get overstimulated with you, where you're both on the brink of tears, trying to writhe both away from each other and against each other for more. it would get super intense with him too. like he'd use hands, mouth, and cock in ways that are so rough neither of you realize it til you're coming back to reality and both of you are sore and in pain.

10/10 jake overstimulates both of you to the point that sex is almost always a reason to call out of work or class the next day.

☆ sunghoon:

he's a fan of edging you and overstimulation so I can imagine he'd be very deliberate with how he works your body while neglecting his own until the time is right. absolutely will not fuck you until you're overstimulated and begging for it. i'm talking upwards of an hour or two just to get you to the point you can barely stand looking at him if he's not going to fuck you. until you're mad that he's making it hurt soooo good but not giving you what you really need. and he's an evil motherfucker too. he'd smirk, chuckle, and say things like "aw, already? it's only been an hour." and "does it hurt enough, baby? you want me to make it better now?" only to not make it better because he's not done playing with you. unfortunate for him though, he always loses the power the second he sinks into that clenching overstimulated pussy :( loses his goddamn mind chasing your hips, both of you almost always getting off within a minute or two solely from your overstimulation and his complete neglect of himself.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Boys: Pool Day | Fluff

Ngl I wrote this in less than an hour and a half. Been chilling in the pool a lot these days and needed to write something for it. Now I want y'all to make sure and read Zayne's part and pay special attention to it, okay? Listen to what he says. I'm serious guys, listen to Zayne.

♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: N/A ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

The cool water lapped at your skin as you sank your entire body into it. A sigh of relief escaped you as you instantly felt better. The summer had just started and already it had been record high temperatures. Thankfully your apartment complex had a nice pool, and since it was one of your rare days off you took advantage, silently thanking the world that your apartment had mainly elderly and hunters so today nobody else was at the pool.

To make matters even better, you managed to drag your sleepy neighbor out with you. You had promised him pool snacks and the new lounge floats you had gotten. Unlike the inflatable ones, these were fabric of sorts and you just knew they’d feel absolutely amazing the moment you two got into the pool.

“Are you ready?” Xavier asked, placing a hand on the small of your back. You let out a small yelp, not used to him being able to touch your skin so easily like this. You looked over at Xavier in his own swim clothes, almost wanting to blush. Of course this man would be the one who chose a speedo over something else.

Still, you began climbing up onto one of the two floats you had. Your body dipped into the water below you and kept you cool and you let out a content sigh. You watched Xavier follow suit, getting comfortable. The lounge float was just as comfortable as you had come to expect and you were living for it.

You put on your sunglasses as you relaxed and turned to Xavier, “Hey Xav?” You called out, making the blonde man hum next to you, “If I fall asleep, you have to promise to wake me up.” You said, knowing you were playing a risky game at the moment.

“Only if you promise to wake me as well.” Xavier said and you could hear the small yawn he let out. You rolled over to your stomach and realized this position was even better.

“Xavier, if I fall asleep and you fall asleep then we’re screwed. Someone needs to be responsible.” You comment with a light chuckle. You watched Xavier paddle his float over to you. He hooked his leg over part of your float and grabbed your hand, making it rest on his own.

“If we stick together like this and keep talking, then we have a better chance at staying awake.” He noted. Well he certainly was right, and being this close to Xavier was certainly a treat. You could ogle the plains and valleys of his well sculpted body perfectly like this.

Sadly it seemed you two forgot one very important fact…how you two always managed to pass out during naps while talking. You don’t even know when you fell asleep, or how long you were passed out. All you know is when you woke up you looked at Xavier. His pale skin was currently a bright red as he laid on his back, sunglasses on and you knew you were screwed.

You didn’t even need to see your back to know you were burned. Your skin felt hot and uncomfortable and if you could see it you’d notice just how angry it looked. You went to poke Xavier, flinching to yourself when you saw the spot on his cheek you poked turn white then back to red.

Xavier groaned as he opened his eyes and turned to look at you. Even with his sleepy vision he could see your current condition. He let out a gasp, going to sit up and forgetting he was on a float as he crashed into the water below him.

You couldn’t help but laugh as he came up, shaking some water from his hair. Without his sunglasses you could see the sunburn went around his eyes, “Xavier…we fucked up.” You said after a moment.

“I can…see that.” He said, looking over your back then down to his chest, “We should head indoors.” He said, going to grab your hand gently. You got off of your float and Xavier grabbed both of them in one arm while still holding your hand. You followed him to his apartment and you noticed how he had a serious look on his face as he forced you through the corridors of the complex. Your complaints about leaving a wet trail from the floats and your body went unheard.

You had to admit the moment you got into his cool apartment you felt a bit better. Xavier finally let go of your hand and dragged the floats to his bathroom, probably to let them dry in the shower. “Sit down on the couch, but be careful.” Xavier said, his calm voice echoing through the apartment.

You had no idea what had gotten into him, but you did just as instructed. You winced as you sat down, your sunburned ass stinging with the smallest movements. When Xavier came back, he was holding a large tub of something.

“Lay on your stomach.” He said and you were still confused as you did just that. He walked behind you and soon you let out a long, drawn out groan of relief. The item in his hand was a cream or sorts and was cool. It soothed your irritated skin as he gently began massaging it into your skin.

“What’s that…?” You groaned, knowing it was familiar but you were still tired from your nap and couldn’t think properly.

“It’s some aloe. I had some just in case.” He said, his small laugh was like music to your ears, “I apologize, you’re burned because I couldn’t keep my promise.”

You hummed and looked back at him as he began working the aloe into the back of your thighs, “We both failed, Xavier. Maybe if you kiss it better it’ll heal for me.” You joked. You hadn’t expected Xavier’s cool lips to press on your burned shoulders. It did feel nice as you melted into it, his lips trailing gentle kisses over the worst burns. He then continued to put the aloe over all those areas as well.

“You’re probably more burned than I am anyways. Did you even use sunscreen?” You comment after a few moments of silence. You had made sure to put some on before heading to the pool, but after hours of the sun even the sunblock wouldn’t be able to keep up without being reapplied liberally.

“I’ll be fine, I just need a nap.” He said, his large hands finishing their massage on all the pieces of skin you were burned. You slowly sat up, but Xavier went to push you back down, “And so do you. But first you need water.” He commented.

You smiled over at him and grabbed hold of his hand as he tried leaving, “Not so fast. We need to take care of your burns.” This time he didn't stop you as you sat back up. You saw the jar next to you and looked back at him. “Lay on your back, I’ll put some aloe on you.”

“That’s not necessary.” Xavier tried to protest with a pout, but you weren't having it.

“Xavie baby.” You said, calling him a nickname that always got him to blush, “Let me take care of you. Come on.” You said, motioning for him to do as you said. He let out a sigh and finally laid down.

You smiled, looking down at him as you covered your hands in the green goop. Today might’ve had a few failures, but being able to rub down Xavier’s body was almost a reward in itself. You then saw Xavier look off to the side then back to you.

“Perhaps if you kiss it better it’ll help them heal faster.” He said, using your words against you. You chuckled as you leaned down, kissing his cheeks before he grabbed your face. You were confused as he brought you in for a proper kiss.

“It hurts the most here.” He said after parting, running his thumb over his own lip. You chuckled, pressing another kiss there.

“Then it looks like I’ll have you pay extra attention to it.” You said, then kissed him again. Perhaps the sunburns weren’t that bad if this was the aftermath.

Zayne

Why Zayne never used the pool at his luxury apartments was beyond you. There were never any children running around, and oftentimes during the weekdays people were at work and couldn’t relax over there. That meant on your days off, it was just the two of you and a very nice and well kept pool. Yet whenever you brought it up, he would always say if you wanted to go he would, but he’s not planning on going by himself anytime soon.

So as soon as summer hit and the heatwave was at an alltime high already, you were dragging Zayne towards the elevator to head down to the pool. Your excitement was evident as Zayne adjusted the pool bag he had prepared. It was a large side bag and you were certain he kept a little bit of everything in there.

When the elevator hit the bottom level, you grabbed hold of his hand and began literally dragging him, “Come now, the pool won’t be going anywhere.” Zayne tried to assure you, but you weren't having none of that.

“The pool might remain, but every second spent dawdling is a second wasted.” You comment, “Time leaves us constantly so we need to catch up.”

He sighed and shook his head. As soon as you left the air conditioned building it was already sweltering hot. You could almost feel sweat clinging to your skin as you made your way to one of the pool chairs. Zayne had already opened the umbrella and laid towels down for the two of you.

Meanwhile you stripped off your pool cover and were about to run straight into the water. As soon as Zayne noticed your movements, he thought fast. Two large hands cupped under your armpits as he brought you up like a naughty cat trying to sneak off. You laid limp in his grasp as you processed what happened.

You slowly turned to him with a pout, “Zayne, what the ever loving fuck?”

“Eloquent with your speech as usual.” He teased as he went to set you down under the umbrella covered chair, “Aren’t you forgetting an important step?” He asked and you sighed with an eye roll.

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ as you looked away from the man.

“Perhaps I should remind you that sunscreen is necessary. I agreed to come to the pool if you made an effort to protect your skin.” He said and you groaned, “I’m sure you’re aware that a light skin tone only has a natural 4-5 spf, while skin with higher melanin has the max of 13.5 spf. That means no matter your skin tone, you still need to protect your skin.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, “Oh please keep talking about medical things with me, Zayne.” You joked and he shook his head.

“Your skin is the largest and one of the most important organs of your body, please treat it with the respect it deserves.” He said, grabbing the sunblock he had brought with him, “Now come here, I’ll help you apply it.”

“I can do it myself.” You protested, but he was already putting some of the cream into his hands. He looked up at you from his prescription sunglasses.

“I’m sure you could.” He said, “However I need to make sure you're covered properly and with enough product it’ll do its job.” He explained with an almost smile on his face. You rolled your eyes before opening your arms up so he could properly get you covered.

You glanced at the bottle and almost choked on your spit, “SPF 100? Isn’t that overkill?” You asked with an incredulous expression.

“Not at all, however we will need to reapply it after about an hour and a half since we’ll be swimming. I’ll make sure to set a timer.” He said and you once again groaned…that was until his hands were on you.

He had purposefully cooled his own hands as he began massaging the product into your arms, chest, stomach, and legs. His hands glided over your body respectfully as he made sure you were properly covered, eventually having you turn around so he could apply it to your back. You jumped when his frigid hands pressed on the back of your neck.

“H-Hey!” You whined and he just chuckled.

“My apologies, I’m just being thorough.” He explained as he worked on your back now. Once your body was covered you turned back to face him. You hadn’t expected his large hands to cup your face as he smeared some of the sunscreen there. Your hands went to wrap around his wrists as you tried backing away, but his grip was firm, “Stop fighting, unless you want a sunburned nose.” He scolded.

You finally huffed and relaxed into his touch. You were startled when he left your face, only to come back and press something over your lips. You opened your eyes and noticed he had a lip balm, one that also had some spf in it. You smacked your lips, noticing how it tasted sweet.

“Better?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes, but.” You said and he hummed. You tugged him over to you, placing a kiss on his lips. He didn’t fight it, leaning in as your lips met his in a short and cute kiss. “You needed some chapstick too…”

“I appreciate you helping me put it on.” He said with an amused huff.

“Can I swim now?” You suddenly asked after buttering him up; already you were getting up. He gripped your waist and dragged you back down.

“Wait twenty minutes after applying sunblock before being exposed to the UV rays.” He said and now you just knew he hated you. You looked at him with pouty eyes and he just smiled at you, “Would you like to help me apply sunblock to help pass the time?”

Now you perked up at that offer, your hands already twitching as you nodded your head. He took off his own cover up and exposed his chest and you had to fight the urge to lick your lips at the sight. How he managed to be in shape while overworking himself was a mystery, but damn were you grateful for it.

You put some sunblock into your hands, running them over Zayne’s chest first and oh my goodness how were you going to be able to survive this. You could feel every single muscle of his as you massaged it in, looking up at him from time to time as you tried to remain focused.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you realized how much you wished you weren’t out in public right now so you could squeeze his chest. You remained professional though and applied the sunblock liberally, and were almost disappointed when it all ended. Still, you both were now covered and you looked over at Zayne’s phone. He had already set a time and it said you had fifteen minutes before you could jump into the pool.

“Zayne, do we have to be a stickler for sunblock rules?” You asked after another five minutes. He looked over at you curiously.

“Are you asking me as your boyfriend, or as your doctor?” He asked and you huffed, rolling on your stomach on the towel.

“I hope you know imma spend the next hour and a half in that pool and I’m dragging you in there the entire time.” You said and he chuckled as he went to his bag and grabbed two drinks. There were two cans of milk tea and when he handed one to you, you noticed how cold it was. You sighed and opened it up, taking a sip, “But I guess this isn’t too bad.” You comment looking at the water.

“My top priority is your safety, however perhaps we can break a few rules. I’ll let you get in five minutes early.” Zayne said, clicking on his phone’s timer. You looked over and noticed you had six minutes left. Your eyes widened as you realized what he said.

You handed him your drink and as soon as the timer had a ‘five’ on it, you were running into the water.

Rafayel

“Fuck you, pufferfish.” You said, shoving the purple haired man out of the way, “I’m getting in first!” You cried out, your feet hitting the hot cement outside of his personal pool. The man in question was right behind you as he went and grabbed hold of you.

His grip on your wrist had you dragging behind him, “Tough luck, pearl, but the pool is mine.” He said, gaining the lead in his mad dash to the water.

This all started when you had been lounging at Rafayel’s home, realizing just how hot it was. His air conditioner was working, sure, but it was still balmy since you were right by the beach. Sweat clung uncomfortably to your skin as you had glanced over at the artist.

“Rafayel, it’s too humid.” You complained and Rafayel looked over at you. You could see the sweat dripping down his neck so clearly he was in a similar situation as you. He seemed to think something over quickly and then smiled.

“Perhaps I could take a break.” He mused, “I do have a pool out there. That should help with the current situation.” He said and you hummed. The thought of spending the day in a private pool was so nice. You had swam in his pool before, it had a tanning ledge, a hot tub with a small waterfall that bled into the pool, and several pool lounges. He had everything you could ask for really, which was to be expected.

“Let’s do it. I’ll grab some drinks.” You said, hopping off the couch and running to the kitchen. Rafayel called out for you, but you didn't hear him as you raced to his fridge. An assortment of soda and juices were stocked thanks to your insistence he have other things than just coffee and water.

You went for the apple juice, deciding it would be refreshing enough for a day like this. Rafayel had some tumblers that would keep it ice cold while you were outside. As you stood back up you bumped into Rafayel’s chest. You spun to look at him in surprise, “Uh need something?” You murmured.

“I asked if you had a swimsuit.” He chuckled and you realized that you didn’t have one at his place. You groaned and looked at him with a pouty face.

“No…” You mumbled and he shook his head.

“That’s fine, I bought you a few just in case. I’ll grab them for you.” Well isn't he being nice and accommodating. Something was up. Your eyes narrowed as you followed him. He went to his closet and that’s when you discovered the swimsuit line up he had.

They were either very promiscuous, or downright ridiculous. He looked between you and the suits and you groaned. You grabbed a pair with rubber ducks decorating it and looked at him, “You sir, are an asshole.” You said, heading to his bathroom.

“I did nothing wrong.” He said, a hand over his heart as you closed the door and quickly got changed. When you came out you choked on your spit. Standing in front of you was Rafayel, with a matching swimsuit.

“I fucking hate you.” You laughed, realizing now why he had gone through the trouble of getting these swimsuits. It was so you guys could match at his pool, “Wait, so if I had gone for the revealing one…?” You trailed off.

“It’s too late for that now, pearl.” He teased, “But I’ll have you know they make very flashy male swimsuits nowadays, in several different styles.” So the ones he showed you…damn you regret your decision. Still, seeing him in something ridiculous like that was enough to make you less bitter.

“Fine, whatever, let’s just get to the pool.” You said, walking out with Rafayel following you, then you said the most childish thing of the day, “Last one in's a rotten egg!” You then began booking it.

You forgot that the two of you combined was a bad case of competitiveness. It led you to the now, where you both were playing dirty to get into the cool pool. You were screaming at one another, attempting to trip or thwart the other.

As soon as you were at the edge, Rafayel yanked you back. You hooked your ankle around his to hold him in place. However this caught both of you off balance. Next thing you knew, the cool water was enveloping the two of you. You looked at Rafayel under the water with wide eyes as you two realized what had happened.

You broke through the water and began laughing immediately. Rafayel soon emerged as well, grabbing onto your shoulders and pouting, “You dropped me into the water.” He whined and you were still laughing.

“I dropped us into the water.” You corrected him. He couldn’t help the smile on his face at the confession.

“Ya, I guess you did.” He huffed before using his weight to push you down. You could hear his voice clearly despite being under water, “But that doesn’t mean I can let you go without punishment, my dear bodyguard.”

You went to scream but you knew your lungs would fill up. Rafayel then dunked his head under the water and swam closer to you. He took his hands over your eyes, covering them and you felt a soft peck on your lips.

Suddenly you could breathe underwater and you chuckled at his antics. He took his hands away as he looked at you with eyes swimming with mischief.

“You’re the absolute worst, fish.” You said, dragging him closer to you. You pressed another kiss on his lips, and you loved how red his cheeks and ears got.

“How am I the worst? You’re supposed to protect me, yet you let me fall in the water.” He complained, but his arms were wrapping around you as he said so. His nose nuzzled against your own as he held onto you.

“Oh how cruel of me to put the fish back into water. I’m just the worst.” You said with a sigh, “Now come on, I want to soak in the sunshine.” You began tugging him to the surface of the water. Despite his pouting, he allowed you to drag him up.

You went over to the tanning ledge, laying on your stomach and relaxed. “Need sunglasses?” Rafayel said, swimming next to you and splashing you with the water.

“Do you have some?” You asked and he shrugged before his eyes furrowed.

“Hey…how are your feet?” He asked and you looked confused. You sat up and looked to see if you had managed to get a cut on your foot at some point. You didn’t see anything as you turned back to him.

“They’re fine…why?” You asked.

“Good…think you could run and get us sunglasses then? They should be near the front.” He said with a smirk, knowing he got you.

This time you would admit, you did push him into the water…well more like kicked him. He was the one asking for it though as he let out a shrill scream before the large splash of water filled your ears. You regretted nothing.

Did y'all hear what Zayne said? Apply sunblock 20 minutes before being exposed to UV rays, no matter what skin color you got. Reapply every 1 - 2 hours as well if you're going to be swimming or sweating a lot (or as directed by the bottle). Your skin is a large and important organ of your body so take care of it you guys!