#he’d get so pressed over this phrase

[the-moonprophet]

no bc he absolutely would

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - dub/con, afab!reader, cockwarming, medical malpractice, nonconsensual drug use, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and obsessive behavior.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

“It really is a shame to lose such a lovely patient.

His hand drifted from your thigh to your hip, rocking you back as you tried to squirm away from him. He was too deep, too big, and you’d been sitting on his cock for too long. Whenever you tried to shift your weight, though, the arm wrapped around your waist would tighten its hold and drag you back into place, leaving your ass slotted against his hips and your cunt struggling to clench around his base. You didn’t know how long he’d kept you like this, but it must’ve been longer than an hour, if not two, three, four. Despite your foggy senses, you could feel slick dripping down your thighs, an empty void in the pit of your stomach where pleasure should’ve been. You could remember hearing that Harper was a good doctor, but that couldn’t be right. Doctors weren’t supposed to make you feel so bad.

“I mean, I know it should be a doctor’s goal to see their patients off as happy and as healthy as can be, but—” He paused, sighed, and you could picture him rolling his eyes, feigning wistfulness as he let out an airy chuckle. “Good, obedient patients can be so rare, especially in a town like this. I’m allowed to mourn the loss of my best charge yet, aren’t I?”

You felt him twitch inside of you, and in search of a distraction, your gaze fell to the collection of papers fanned out over the desk in front of you. You knew you were supposed to be reading them, but the text seemed so impossibly small, and your last round of medication was still clouding your senses, making it hard to focus on much of anything beyond the throbbing in your core, the feeling of his cock stretching you open despite your body’s best attempts to force him out. You could recognize the phrases, signal out words like ‘unfit’ and ‘dependent’ mixed in with the rest of the benign text, but when you tried to put it all together, none of it made sense. It was all you could do to check the boxes Harper pointed to, sign your name on any dotted lines that hadn’t already been filled by his. You could only hope that, when you finished, he’d let you stand up, get off of him, go back to your cozy room with its nice, soft padded walls. You couldn’t imagine having to sleep in his office, again.

“And you’ve been so cooperative, too,” he went on, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “Always taking your medication, always following your treatment plans, always coming to our little sessions with an open-mind – the pinnacle of an ideal patient. Honestly, sometimes I think I could tell you to stick your hand in a vat of boiling water, and you’d do it with a smile on your face. All for the sake of your recovery, of course.”

It was him moving, this time – shifting forward until your stomach was pressed against the blunt edge of his desk and he was all-but draped over you, his body pressed flush against yours. You let out a pitchy whine by way of protest, but Harper didn’t seem to notice, only humming as his hand found yours. “Almost done, little mouse. Just one more page.” He was practically cooing as he took you by the wrist, guiding your hand to the bottom of the final page. Two thick, cutting lines occupied most of the available space, his neat signature taking up the first. He brought you to the second, almost daunting in its vacancy, his index finger tapping against the back of your hand. “You remember your name, right? Can you write it for me?”

It was so hard to think, to stay awake, to try and remember a time where he hadn’t been planted so deeply inside of you. “If…” you started, only to trail off. You blinked once, then twice, and did your best to force your tongue to move. “If I do, can I go home?”

Usually, Harper hated it when you talked about the orphanage, about school, about home. You hadn’t meant to, you just wanted to go back to your room, and you moved to correct yourself, to promise that you didn’t want to be anywhere but this hospital, his hospital before he frowned and prescribed you another electrotherapy session, another dose of the small, white pills that left your thoughts blurred and your body hot. But, anything you might’ve been able to spit out died with a breathy laugh, a peck to the corner of your jaw. “Of course,” he purred, rocking his hips gently against yours. “Sign, and I’ll take you home tonight.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to smile. Hastily, smudging the ink more than once, you scrawled your name across the brutal line, dropping the pen and going slack against Harper as soon as you were finished. There was another open-mouthed kiss to your throat, then the dip of your shoulder, and he dragged you back onto his lap with a playful squeeze to your thigh, a grin pressed into the crook of your neck. You squirmed unabashedly, now, your hands  graspingly weakly at the arms of his chair in hopes of pulling yourself to your feet, but Harper held you tight. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse?”

“I need to— You said I could go—”

“Just give me another minute, darling.”

His cock pulsed against the walls of your cunt, and you felt something break open inside of you.

“I want to appreciate this moment before we get you to proper, brand-new home.”

[moonstruckme]

hello mae! I had a request I’d like to give you. I was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders x reader where reader has never slept beside anybody before bc intimacy isn’t something she’s used to therefore she’s not used to being that close to anybody. everytime she shifts she’s afraid to wake up the boys, or she just doesn’t know what to do.

I know you have “first night with marauders” so if this is too similar I totally get it. 🖤

Hello sweetheart, thank you for your request!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 990 words

You’re terrible at this. 

Each of the boys is sound asleep. Sirius has his leg hooked over yours and one of his arms tossed over James’ chest, Remus’ hand has to be halfway numb underneath your pillow, and James is snoring softly on the far side of the bed from you. They’re all so obviously comfortable, practiced in resting like this, whereas you started to get stiff a half hour ago and you’ve been unable to make yourself relax since. 

Every movement takes a year, you’re trying so hard not to wake them. You feel like the girl in a movie who’s trying to sneak out of the bed of a one-night stand, all taut muscles and bated breath, except you only want to roll over. Slow, microscopic movements have to be the key. 

Your back crackles softly when you shift your weight onto your other hip, and a sigh escapes you before you can stop it. 

A low, croaky hum comes from just in front of your face. Your brain is a tempest of expletives. 

“Hey.” You can nearly feel the gravel of Remus’ voice buzzing against your lips. “You’re up.” 

Muddled with sleep, you can’t tell if his tone is reprimanding or simply observational. “Sorry,” you whisper regardless. 

“Wha’ for?” Movement under the pillow beneath your head, and then a long-fingered hand is nestling beneath your cheek. His scars and calluses slide familiarly over your skin. “Can’t sleep?”

Nope, and now it’s two of you. Guilt grows vines around your ribcage. Remus sounds more awake by the second. 

“I’ll be okay.” You press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, hoping to mollify him. “Go back to sleep.” 

Your boyfriend makes a half-aware disgruntled sound. “No, not without you.” 

As exhausted as you are, you have to bite down on a smile. When he’s uninhibited like this, Remus really is quite the flirt, all his dorky, sweet thoughts coming out before he can remember to stop them. He’s nearly as bad as James. 

You think he must see a hint of your smile in the dark, because Remus’ own lips tilt upwards. He leans closer to kiss the cool skin of your cheek, the only cold part of you thanks to a heavy duvet and the body heat of three lovely boyfriends. A kiss for a kiss. 

He leaves his lips there as he murmurs, “What’s wrong, dove?” 

Well, funny he should ask. What’s wrong now is the slight tickle of his stubble against your cheek, the hoarse quality to his voice in your ear. His breath warming your cold skin, and the hand he slides across the space between you to rest on your hip, layered in between the sheets and your pajama bottoms. 

But you know that’s not what he’s asking. 

“I can’t get very comfortable,” you confess, speaking so softly he wouldn’t be able to make it out if his ear weren’t two inches from your lips, “and I didn’t want to wake anyone up.” 

Remus hums, as though this is a prognosis he’d already reached and was merely waiting for you to confirm. You can hear Sirius’ voice as clearly as if he were awake: know it all. 

“They can sleep through anything,” he says. “One time the fire alarm went off, and James didn’t even stir. Don’t worry about them.” You must be emanating guilt, because he strokes his thumb over your hip pacifyingly. “And I don’t mind being woken up. I’m in and out of sleep all night anyway, it’s not hard for me to get back. You’re not used to sleeping with so many people, yeah?” 

Your face warms at his phrasing, though of course you know what he means. “Or with anyone,” you murmur. 

“Mm. I think I know what you need.” 

You don’t realize Remus’ plan until he’s already sat up. He reaches over you, rubbing James’ shoulder gently while you protest vehemently through whispers. 

James wakes with a yawn, taking Remus’ hand automatically and bringing it close to his face. “Wha’s’it?”

“Take her,” Remus requests drowsily. With his other hand, he nudges you forward. 

James starts to blink his eyes open, and you see no way out. You start climbing over Sirius as delicately as you can. “Sorry,” you whisper, to him, to them, to the room in general. 

Remus helps you out by tugging Sirius into your place. The other boy whines but settles quickly, rolling over to sling his leg over Remus’ instead. 

James welcomes you as heartily as his sleep-addled state will allow, adjusting the covers over you and smudging a few toothpaste-scented kisses onto your face. 

“Y’can’t sleep?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “Sorry.” 

He makes a soft dismissive sound. “C’mere, angel.” 

You refrain from telling him that you’re already here as his arms find their way around you, soft and firm in all the right places and deliciously warm. He starts to make slow, sweeping circles onto your back with his hand. 

“Jamie,” you murmur, grateful but embarrassed, “don’t stay up for me. Go to sleep.” 

“M’basically there,” he replies. “You first, yeah?” 

You can hear Remus’ breathing evening out behind you, syncing with Sirius’, and you’re suddenly sure that this is part of a routine he and the boys shared before you ever met them. That’s how he knew to hand you off to James, and how James knew exactly what to do. Something about that comforts you. And far be it for you to mess with tradition. 

You shuffle closer to James under the covers. He obliges you happily, adjusting his grip so he’s holding you more securely, with your leg resting against his and your forehead an inch from his nose. The shushing of his heavy palm on the material of your pajama top is the only sound in the world. 

You hear his breathing starting to deepen again, but James is right; you beat him there. 

[sprite-writes-fanfic]

Hey , I was wondering how do you think the Bay Turtles would react to that Tik Tok trend where the gf called their bf their husband ? Like they could be at the lair and April calls reader amd reader is like " Ya I'm at my husbands place " etc.

This is the trend I'm talking about

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeypmGWK/

Very cute idea! Also Bayverse request! 😚👌💙

🐢Calling Them Your Husband🐢

💙❤️Bayverse TMNT x Reader💜🧡

Word Count: 917

CW: Gender-neutral reader, calling him your husband 🥰, fluffy as hell, not proof-read.

TikTok was an interesting platform that you enjoyed scrolling through occasionally, and it wasn’t until one day you stumbled upon the couple side of TikTok. You were planning on scrolling past until a certain one caught your attention, and it certainly got you thinking…

Later that night, you and your boyfriend were doing your nightly activities as you usually did, when you got a sudden call from April. You answered with a smile, “Hey April, what’s up?” You ask, the conversation flowing naturally until she asked where you were at. Without hesitation, you answered, “Oh! Yeah, I’m at my husband's place.” You smile, before glancing over at the turtle beside you, getting the following reaction…

🐢💙Leonardo💙🐢

💙 Leo was staring rather intensely at you, feeling a flood of emotions course through him as he stared at you. He would then let out a soft chuckle, and waited until you hung up. He really liked that, oh he REALLY loved that actually, you saw him as your husband, huh?

💙 Once you hung up, he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you sweetly, “So, what was that about, hm?” He mused, as you giggled a bit. “You want to get married? Why didn’t you just say so?” He smiles, and you couldn’t find it in your heart to tell him it was a TikTok, you just couldn’t, not at the time anyways. And plus, I mean the topic was on your mind after all.

💙 “Oh yeah.” You grin as you draw him into a loving kiss, “Let’s get married?” You ask, smiling at him. A chuckle escapes him and he presses his forehead against yours, “Yeah… Let’s get married.” He swiftly lifts you up, bridal style, “And let’s make it soon. I want this husband title to be more permanent.” He chuckles. (Though you would have to tell him later down the line about this because you felt a tad bit guilty, spoiler; he was confused, but he was fine with it.)

🐢❤️Raphael❤️🐢

❤️ Raph gave you a soft chuckle, before placing a hand on your hip, “Damn right you are.” He smirked down at you. Now this, dear reader, stroked his ego, he absolutely loved it. He waits for you to finish up the call with April, lightly rubbing your skin in a loving manner as he was left with his thoughts for a moment.

❤️ Once you hung up, he kissed your head, “Husband, huh? Get that from somewhere?” He asks, and you couldn’t help but chuckle, “Yes… I did, it was a TikTok idea.” He playfully rolled his eyes, “Now you didn’t mean it?” He teased, making you panic, “Of course I did, Raph!” He let out a small laugh, “Easy, Dollface. I’m messing with you.” He would kiss your forehead, calming you down.

❤️ He was a little disappointed that it was a TikTok trend, but he does have to admit, you calling him your husband certainly felt good. Now he was rather tempted to make you a Hamato, if you catch my drift. But he’d wait, he wants it to be at the right time… For now, he’s just relentlessly bullies you (lovingly) about this for a good while.

🐢💜Donatello💜🐢

💜 Chokes, Donnie literally chokes. He was in the middle of drinking some apple juice when the phrase, ‘my husband’s’, gave him some whiplash with this one. He was choking and coughing, wiping away dripping juice as you panicked and hung up on April to help him, (RIP Donnie, died to apple juice 💀).

💜 Once you finish helping him clean up, he would finally regain his composure, his nostrils still stinging from the apple juice, he asks, “What was that about?” He wasn’t angry, not at all, just really confused about this whole thing. Husband? That’s not the right term, you guys aren’t married (yet)! You end up explaining, “Well… It was a TikTok trend and I kinda wanted to see how you’d react.” You admit.

💜 He chuckles and shakes his head at this, “A TikTok trend?” He asks, “Well, it certainly caught me off guard… But maybe don’t do that the next time I’m drinking apple juice, it isn’t pleasant in the throat nor the nose.” He warns, making you smile, “Right, sorry Don.” And you kissed his cheek, returning back to your fun nightly activities of working on his latest invention.

🐢🧡Michelangelo🧡🐢

🧡 Mikey goes along with it, he’s seen this trend. He wraps his arms around your waist and leans against your shoulder, speaking closer to the phone, “Yup~ Wifeys at my place!” He grins, and now you were feeling yourself get red in the face, now a little flustered that he went along with it. It kinda made you feel a little giddy inside.

🧡 Once hanging up, Mikey was giving you a smug smirk, “Tried to pull that one on me? Well I’m two steps ahead of you, angelcakes!” He grins as he’d kiss your cheek, making you groan, “Damn it, Mikey. I was hoping you’d be a little more on the surprised side, but alas, you know TikTok better than I do.” Making him laugh and nuzzle against your neck.

🧡 He placed sweet kisses along your neck, “Nah, that just takes the fun out of it.” He grins widely, pulling away to look into your eyes, “Plus, I’ve always wanted to call you wifey.” He smirked again when he saw you blush a little harder, making you sigh, “Fine fine! You win.” You groan, hugging him around the shoulders, as he laughed softly and nuzzled your cheek lovingly.

[jesuistrestriste]

frustrated, overworked, sad art donaldson who comes home to you after losing what was supposed to be an ‘easy win’

and when he gets in the door, he doesn’t even take his shoes off before he’s tracking you down in your guys’ apartment; he could’ve been a bloodhound in a past life with the way he’s able to find you just by scent alone

when he does find you, curled up on the bed as you work on your laptop, there’s not a moment of hesitation before he’s crawling up over you and pushing your device aside. he’s got this soft, needy expression on his face, and then you feel his sticky + sweaty body pressing down over yours.

he’s already aching in his athletic shorts, pent up from all the adrenaline and guilt from the loss. he begins rutting down over your clothed hips like a dog in heat; burying his face into the warmth of your neck and murmuring little words and whines and moans.

his palms are pressed down on either side of your body to cage you in, his fingers curled to clutch the sheets as he bucks and rolls his cock against your pelvis. you can feel it too, it’s hot and pulsing and heavy in the confines of the fabric, and he doesn’t seem like’s gonna stop to wait for you to give any sort of protest.

you do try, pushing your hands against his chest and saying things like, “Art— wait—“

but he just shakes his head and lets out a pleading, guttural whine as he fucks your body through the layers of cotton and spandex material. your hesitancy to indulge him right away only riles him up more; heightening the desperation boiling in his core.

he’s not even totally aware of what he’s doing now, just mindlessly and frantically pushing his body down over yours and babbling rushed, whispered phrases.

“oh god, please— please, i wan’ you, need you, need this—“

“need to feel you, need to— i j-just— ohhh— fuuhhcckkk—!”

“can i come? i can’t hold it— im not gonna hold it— can’t— stop— oh shit—! baby, i’m gonna come.. ‘m gonna— about to—!”

he spills into his boxers + his shorts, gushing thick ropes as he shudders and mouths at your neck. his jaw is nearly slack.

art’s usually one to take things slow, so this whole thing is odd, but you start to realize that he’s probably only behaving this way because he’d just lost the match you sent him off to on his own.

you don’t need him to tell you that he lost, you know now.

you hold him as he collapses, panting and gasping, and you kiss the side of his head.

“you’ll do better next time,” you whisper to him.

he won’t.

[arminsumi]

geto who's way bigger than you. just imagine sitting on his lap while he hugs you. he might kiss you in the hair or make you ride him until you're dripping all over his pants <3

TOO SMALL TO TAKE IT ALL, HUH?

𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 — 夏油傑

🔞 smut / n.sfw / 18+ content

NOTE: did I just read Geto Suguru with a size kink or do I need to get my eyes checked out again 🥴 anyways hehe my dearest mama pieck in my inbox good to see u angel 💗

WARNINGS — fem reader, size kink, implied clothed sex, implied unprotected sex + creampie, hair pulling, light roughplay, teasing/playfulness, dirty talk, slight dom/sub dynamic (?), nicknames (daddy, good girl, baby, etc), lmk if i have missed a warning thank u lovelies

That’s the first thing he noticed about you – you and him, the sheer size difference. It made his eyes light up, it made him smirk. He immediately compared his body size to yours and relished in the fact even your shadow was smaller.

Satoru had introduced the two of you to each other years ago during one especially hot summer. You’d coincidentally stayed at the same hotel in Okinawa for the holidays. Geto Suguru very unashamedly chuckled when you looked up at him, noticing how your eyes skimmed the strip of his physique that showed through his Hawaiian shirt. One of the first things he said to you was “You’re so small” as a playful, cheeky little remark.

And it wasn’t the last time he said it. That was a very common phrase to come out of him. He loved making you very aware of how much bigger he was than you.

Never mind the obvious height difference, he was just bigger than you in every aspect. Hands, feet, forearms, chest, torso, shoulders. So often in the early stages of your relationship, he would put his hand out and splay his fingers so that you’d bring your own hand up to compare, showing off his finger length by curling them over yours, with a suggestive smirk too. At some point he made the very expected dirty joke, “Bet you’d prefer mine over yours, huh? Yeah. I could reach much deeper.”

The size difference between you and him was on his mind whenever he hugged you. He made sure that you felt the tones of his torso pressing tight against your chest.

And it was killing him inside whenever you perched yourself on his lap. You felt his muscular thighs supporting your weight.

Pair those together – hugging him while on his lap? He was conscious of every part of your body that pressed against him, as were you; how could you ignore the press of his biceps against your sides? No one could.

His pants started tightening when he mentally compared every aspect of your body and his body. Your hand and his hand, your shoulders and his shoulders, your leg length and his leg length. You wouldn’t expect nasty thoughts to be circling his mind when he’s pressing such innocent kisses into your hair. But he’s thinking of pulling on that pretty hair, making you squirm on his cozy, comfy, big lap while he stuffs his cock inside your tiny hole.

He sweet talks you while palming and kneading your ass, feeling the supple skin bounce and jiggle makes him giddy.

 Geto was a giant, but a gentle giant. Well, mostly gentle – gentle when he wasn’t thrusting up into you.

He fucked you like a real show-off, ‘cause Geto wanted to make your pussy remember his size. Splitting you open and stretching you out always earned a wolfy grin from his lips. “Feel that? ‘so deep I’m in your tummy, baby. If I cum inside I’m sure not a single drop will spill out.” He coos into your ear, firm grip unmoving from your hips.

The curve of his cock had you seeing stars, it made your body so weak – he liked that. He liked that he had the ability to make your body practically melt in his embrace, he savored the feeling and sight of your body going half-limp like a ragdoll when you were getting fucked too good by him.

Sometimes he was so needy to feel you stretch around him that he didn’t bother fully taking off his clothes, he’d just unbutton and unzip his pants.

“But I’m gonna soak ‘em.” You forewarned.

“Yeah.” He hummed with a smirk, “I like that, baby. Soak daddy’s jeans with your pretty pussy like a good girl. Make a mess on me.”

Now, Geto only gives you a bit of freedom when riding his lap. Those big hands are always attached to your hips and helping to work you up and down. Sometimes he’ll give you the liberty of bouncing on his cock all by yourself, as clumsy as you are in that cock-drunk state, so he can hold the back of your head and give you feverish kisses all over your face. When he feels the tickle of your hair as it slips through his fingers, that’s when he takes a grip of it and pulls back so gently. Geto’s so sweet and gentle – ‘till he’s cumming, that is, then you feel a slight tingle across your scalp as he really pulls on your hair.

“You’re so fucking tiny, baby. Too small to take it all, huh? Deep breaths, there we go – angel you’re so good for me, always listening to me – fuckkk – s-so fucking small, so fucking small ‘n tiny, ‘gonna milk my cum out with that tight hole of yours? Yeah? Good, be good and milk my cum out.”

When he’s through with you, he always praises you like a princess.

“You impress me.” He tells you, “it's so hot that you can take all of me like that, even thought you’re so small. Mhm, that’s right, you’re my baby angel, aren’t you? C’mere, let me kiss you.” He feathers tenderly against the crown of your head, ignorant of the fact his pants are soaked through with his pretty girl’s juices, and presses pretty kisses to your skin.

[itiswormtimebaby]

Here’s what I’m thinking about: Bucky finds out you’ve never been eaten out and takes that personally. 

Gif does NOT represent readers physical appearance, but just look at that tongue

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Bug (+ Brother’s best friend Bucky, plus sized fem reader) CW: Explicit, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, rimming (vague), demanding Bucky but everyone’s into it, Bucky’s mouth, virgin reader

“What the fuck did you just say?” Bucky looks up at you incredulously from where he lays between your spread legs, chin poking into the soft flesh of your stomach, his favorite pillow as of late. You were just so goddamn soft, he couldn’t get over it. 

“How is that news to you? You know I’m-”

“A virgin, not a saint. You’ve dated!” Coming from anyone else it would’ve sounded like an accusation but Bucky was truly just confused, how could someone have access to your body not have their face buried in your sweet pussy twenty-three hours a day? Hell, he’d only licked your essence off his fingers and he was already hooked. You gave a short shrug in response, not sure what to say.

“What about that guy Steve caught you with?” 

“Ew! Never speak of that, he had to bleach his eyes and I had to bleach my brain.” Normally your dramatics would’ve at least earned you a playful eye roll or indulgent chuckle but he was too distraught to offer even that, suddenly rising to his knees, back straight as he loomed over your still prone form. 

“You’re seriously telling me that jackass didn’t reciprocate? None of them did?” 

Again, unsure of how to respond you just offer him a small shrug. 

“Bug, take your goddamn pants off right now.” His tone is deadly serious, eyes blazing. He genuinely looks upset by this new information. 

“BUCKY!” 

“Now or I’m ripping them off.” 

You’re quick to arch your lower back off the bed, rushing so Bucky won’t ruin your favorite leggings, his calloused fingers joining yours in yanking the waistband down over the swell of your stomach and hips before he’s throwing them over his shoulder. As soon as you’re bared to him he drops back to his stomach, rough hands pushing your thighs apart, wasting no time in nosing at your clit. Your mortified to hear him deeply inhale, but it’s quickly lost in a wave of arousal as he begins to talk, seemingly to himself; “Can’t believe no one’s ever tasted this beautiful cunt. Fucking losers. It’s mine now” Filth continues to pour from his mouth between wet open mouthed kisses to your thighs, he alternates between biting and sucking at the soft flesh, before chasing a trail of slick from between your ass cheeks back up to your weeping hole. 

You’d never understood the phrase “he ate pussy like a man starved” until now. It was like Bucky was truly trying to devour you, tongue lapping at your achingly empty opening, a perverse parallel to how he kissed you. His tongue consistently moved over your soaking flesh, licking from one hole to the other before darting back up to your clit, suckling on it as he fucked you on a finger, making you beg for a second. The cycle continued until you were spiraling towards oblivion, his left hand reaching towards you, allowing you to lock your fingers together while your other hand twisted tightly in his hair and his continued to fuck in and out of you, now up to three fingers. 

You hear what vaguely sounds like “tastes so fucking good.” And your name, your actual name, not Bug, before you're using your grip on his hair to press him further into your cunt, grinding against him as you ride out the most intense orgasm of your life so far. Nearly spirally into a second when you come back down to earth and feel his jaw working against your overstimulated cunt as he does his best to drink in your juices. 

He pulls back just long enough to peer up at you, the entire lower half of his face soaked in your slick; “their loss.”

[innerfare]

Blue Balls - Ace: Part 2 

Summary: Ace takes care of his blue balls; text below the cut. If you haven't already, read Part 1 here!

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Afab!Reader

Genre: smut

CW: penetrative sex, dirty talk

Word Count: 1,255

———

Ace couldn’t believe his rotten luck. 

Thatch had you on deck that entire night handling something, and just before dawn, Pops sent Ace out on a mission to a nearby island. It had all happened so quickly and he’d barely had the chance to tell you goodbye and punch Marco in the arm for that knowing, teasing look on his face before he was off. 

When he returned, it was just past three in the morning, and he was absolutely miserable, with a hole in his stomach and a throbbing, aching problem between his legs. He ground his teeth together to keep from groaning as he climbed onto the ship. 

Rotten luck, indeed. 

He’d had a real rough go of things, not just because he had a serious case of blue balls but because that mission Pops had sent him on had proven to be the sort of thing that only the second division commander could really take care of. 

He normally enjoyed that sort of thing, and he’d had a few moments that he relished, but ultimately, his mind was on you and the fact he hadn’t told Thatch to go fuck himself that night. 

Marco met him on deck with a plate of food that Ace tucked into as soon as he dropped his things. As he bit into two rice balls at once, he gave the deck of the Moby Dick a once over. It was deserted, most of the crew asleep in their hammocks for the night. 

“She wanted to wait up for you,” Marco said with a knowing look, "but I sent her to bed. Thatch has been running her ragged, poor thing.” 

Ace grunted with a mouthful of food, Marco’s phrasing conjuring images in his head that he knew he should have been ashamed of. But he wasn’t ashamed. He was tired and hungry, and he needed you.

“You should let her sleep. She’s in for another long day tomorrow.” Marco chuckled and clapped Ace on the shoulder. “But if you want to keep her awake, I’m guessing you could bribe Thatch with some of that sake you brought back.” 

Ace just nodded and headed inside.

Exhausted, he paused outside the door and pressed his forehead into it. His blood was absolutely boiling in his veins, and he knew he needed to calm down some before coming on to you, but he wasn’t sure how to do that. 

A sound filtered through the door, and Ace’s ears twitched. 

No way. 

He leaned in closer and held his breath to listen. Sure enough, he heard a small, wanton moan come from inside his cabin. 

Ace’s heart jumped in his chest. All thoughts of remaining calm and slipping quietly into bed left his mind. He whipped open the door. He intended to slip inside smoothly, but he ended up stumbling, accidentally slamming the door shut behind him. 

You gasped, sitting up straight in bed. You squinted in the dark, only just making out a tall, broad figure in a cowboy hat. “Ace?” 

“Did you really get started without me?” Ace stepped out of his boots, almost tripping he was in such a rush. “You knew I was coming home tonight.” 

“I started thinking you got delayed and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.” You fell back on the pillows, enveloped in the scent of him once more. You were naked under the covers with your hand still between your legs, where you had been rubbing furiously at your clit in a pathetic attempt to get off on your own. 

“I’m here now.” He shoved his shorts down and stepped out of those, too; he never wore anything underneath. He practically dove into bed, struggling to get the covers off your body. 

He felt your lips on his shoulder. 

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe under the weight of your boyfriend, but you didn’t dare complain as the two of you struggled to get the covers out from between you. His crushing weight on top of you was the best feeling in the world. 

Well, one of the best feelings in the world. 

“How many times did you cum?” He asked, finally peeling back the covers. He pressed his naked body into yours and groaned. “How many times did you cum without me?” 

“You interrupted before I could finish,” you told him. You sighed in relief at the feel of his chest against yours. Your hands went straight to his black locks, but they didn’t stay there for very long. You ran them down his face and neck, squeezed his shoulders, and grabbed hold of his muscular biceps. 

“What about last night?” He pushed your head to the side and went to work on your neck, kissing and sucking to his heart’s content, biting so hard you mewled in pain. “How many times did you cum last night?” 

“None.” 

“And the night before?” 

You hesitated, but answered honestly. “Once.” 

He didn’t run his fingers up and down your slit. He didn’t tongue fuck you to make sure you were good and ready. Hell, he didn’t even ask you to finish the blowjob you’d been giving him before the two of you were separated. He just aligned his cock with your slick entrance. 

“Need this so bad,” he moaned into your shoulder. “I have the worst blue balls of my life right now. Hurts so bad.” 

“You say that every time.” 

“It hurts every time.” He pushed the head of his cock into your entrance and let out a loud groan as if nobody could hear. “Oh, that feels so good.” He pushed another inch in. “Tell me how you came the other night, sweetheart. Tell me all about it.” 

“I was thinking about that time you went down on me on deck,” you confessed. “When the others were all drinking in town.” 

Ace hummed in encouragement, pushing another inch in. His mouth watered and his abdominal muscles spasmed at the feel of your warmth encasing him bit by bit.

You whined at the stretch but kept on. “I rode your pillow like it was your thigh. It was so good.” Another inch, another whine. “I’m pretty sure Marco heard. He knocked on the door right after I came to check on me.” 

That bastard, Ace thought to himself. 

He couldn’t stop himself. He bottomed out inside you, pushing your thighs apart for better access. He rolled his hips against yours, fucking you like a maniac, the two of you panting and moaning.  

He was a complete mess, a sheen of sweat appearing on his brow line as he fucked you. He panted and whimpered, his rhythm far less consistent than usual. He rutted into you like he'd never done it before, like he'd never even experienced pleasure before.

Ace at least had the sense to thumb your clit while he fucked you, but he couldn’t think of anything beyond that. He tried desperately to hold off until you came. 

The second he felt your walls tighten around him and your nails dig deeper into his back, he released all of the tension he’d been carrying around with him, filling you with his cum. He gave another few deep strokes before collapsing on top of you. 

“So tired,” he muttered into your hair, still inside of you. 

You rubbed the back of his neck. “Go to sleep, then. We can catch up in the morning.” 

Ace didn’t need to be told twice. He kissed you one final time and was out like a light. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[avocado-writing]

Kinktober #16

16. Nipple Play // Cock Worship // Lactation (Logan x Reader, follow on from this and this)

You know Logan Howlett loves you. He loves you enough to put a baby in you, that’s for certain, the one thing that you’ve wanted for as far back as you can remember. He loves you every morning when he gives you the first kiss of the day, and every evening when he holds you in his arms as you lay down to sleep.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

He loves you enough to do this - though you think that isn’t quite the right phrasing. That sentence suggests an aspect of hesitation in him and you are certain there’s none. In fact, if you know him like you think you do, this is a turn-on for him. Something base and primal to connect you both which is like a cattleprod to his libido.

Logan likes to get lost in your body and who are you to deny him?

When you’d come to him with complaints of aching breasts he’d been sympathetic and helpful, but not entirely unhappy as it meant he also got to cop a feel. Hands on your tits and gentle massaging helped loosen the pain in them and, to your surprise, you’d started expressing.

“Holy shit,” you chuckle, watching yourself leak onto Logan’s fingers. “Well, didn’t expect that to happen so soon. Guess kiddo here wants to remind us she’s gonna appear any day now.”

You run a hand over the curve of your belly and beam. Logan looks at you like you hung the stars, before raising his hand to his mouth and tasting you. 

“Logan!” you chuckle, pretending to be scandalised, but you’re also rather affected by the way his pupils blow wide as your milk blossoms on his tongue.

“Can’t help it, darlin’. You’re so sweet.”

You feel yourself heat up under the baseness of his praise, and the next time you sought help from him, you made sure you were wearing your laciest little bra.

He fell to his knees when you sat down, nuzzling into your chest, growling as he teethed at a nipple. It was sore but sent a jolt of arousal all the way through you and you pressed it against his mouth, encouraging him to take you between his lips.

He did, sucking gently until you bloomed. It was a strange feeling, but warm, one which had you curling your hand in his hair as he brought his own between your legs.

“Fuck, Logan…” you growl. His fingers slip inside you, burying into your wet heat and finding softness there.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispers, and he’s never let you down before. You come with his hand at your sex and his mouth on your breasts, orgasming harder than you ever thought possible.

You’d share every part of yourself with him.

[lushrue]

thinking real heavy about phone sex with price while he’s deployed (afab!reader, nsfw under the cut, minors do not interact!!)

cw: mutual masturbation, very light breathplay, author has never written smut before 😅

you can hear it in his voice the minute he picks up the phone. he’s tense, frustrated, wired. he’s got this growly tone that you jokingly call his “grizzly bear voice.” it only comes out when too many somethings or somebodys have pissed him off, and that’s not uncommon when he’s out on a mission. he’s so passionate about what he does, one of the things that made you fall in love with him. so the least you can do is provide him with some relief, right?

“love,” you murmur into the phone, cutting off his rant about some recruit running off half-cocked and almost compromising their position. he sighs exasperatedly and you can almost hear him slumping back in his chair. “yeah, dove?” he replies, crossing his arms over his chest. you smile despite his sour mood, determined to set him right again. “it sounds like you’re in need of some stress relief, hmm?”

you swear you hear him perk up. it was the trigger phrase the two of you had adopted after you had gotten particularly spontaneous and john almost got walked in on by one masked lieutenant. now, those words meant he was rushing to lock the door and set his phone to do not disturb. “i could use some, yeah,” he said, his voice low and husky. he’d already begun to chub up in his cargos, his palm pressing down on the firmness between his legs.

you smile, getting yourself into position as well. after all, it was only fun if you both got something out of it. you slid your shorts off and settled back against the pillows of your shared bed. “i thought you might say that,” you purred, your voice lowering to match his. “you’ve just been working so hard, lovie. and the days are so long, aren’t they? just so pent up and frustrated.”

the telltale sound of his belt buckle clinking meets your ears, followed by the rustling of fabric and a low groan from your boyfriend. “mmm…yeah, doll, ‘m all pent up,” he replied as he thumbed at his head, pre already leaking from the tip of his hard cock. his breath caught in his throat and you knew from that little hitch that he’d started. so you did too, your hand sliding below the waistband of your underwear to find that delicious little bud.

your fingers pinched at your clit, eliciting a gasp and breathy moan from you. you imagined the look on price’s face, the longing he no doubt had to be with you and replace your hands with his. just the thought of having him home in bed with you made your pussy clench, your breathing starting to speed up. his did too, starting to stroke himself slowly. you loved how he dragged sex out when he was home, but with so much distance between you, you’d almost prefer he dropped some of his characteristic restraint. he was a military man first and foremost, and that meant almost supernatural control over his body and its urges.

“touchin’ yourself, pet?��� he asked, which you responded to with a whine and murmur of assent. words wouldn’t come to you at the moment. his chuckle sent shockwaves through you, the wet shlick of his hand barely audible through the tinny phone speaker. “good. tha’s my good girl. just keep on like that, keep makin’ y’rself feel good for me.” even thousands of miles away, he still managed to control you. it was scary and exhilarating all at once, the hold he had on you. price shifted on his cot, the pace of his strokes picking up as he shut his eyes and let his own personal porno play out in his head. he’d been with you long enough that he had your body memorized. he could see exactly how you looked sprawled out beneath him, face flushed and so eager for him. the image made him stiffen harder, if that was possible.

you obeyed, of course. you were his good girl after all. the sound of his heavy breathing was enough to get you going good, your chest heaving as the pleasure built in you. your fingers traveled lower, gathering your own slick on your fingers before pressing two inside. it wasn’t the stretch you needed and you whined, scissoring your digits to mimic the width john provided. you heard him coo condescendingly, a blush rising to your cheeks. “what’s the matter, sweet girl? your fingers not doin’ the trick?” you shook your head in reply before remembering he couldn’t see you. “nuh-uh,” you mumble, thrusting in and out in time with the sound of his strokes.

price groaned at the sound of your breathy voice, the way you got all high-pitched and squeaky when you were horny. “need you, i need you so bad,” you continued, putting the phone on speaker so that you could have both your hands free. you laid the phone on the pillow beside you, your now-unoccupied hand coming up to circle your throat. if you went far enough in your head, you could pretend that it was price’s thick palm pressing against your windpipe, squeezing your neck to give you the head rush you loved. “feels so much better when you do it.” that stroked his ego good, his nostrils flaring as his hand worked more furiously at his aching cock. god, the things he would do to you when he got home.

“you can do it, dove. come on, curl your fingers the way i do. hit that pretty little spot for me.” the moan you let out was all he needed to know you obeyed him. his hand tightened around himself, cum threatening to spill out of him right then and there. but he choked it back. he wanted this to play out just a little longer. “tha’s it, good girl,” he crooned, focusing in on your breathy whimpers. your fingers worked furiously, the pressure in your belly building as you got closer and closer. “god, you sound like heaven. nothin’ sweeter in the world, love.” 

his words carried you closer to the edge, each press of your fingertips against your g-spot sending a bolt of pleasure through you. your back arched, the phone slipping down off the pillow to be closer to your hips. with this new position, he could hear how wet you were, the sound of you delicious in his ear. he groaned, deciding to just give in. he wouldn’t last long with those sounds in his head. “come on, dove, need ya to cum for me,” he breathed out, the wet sounds of him stroking his cock resuming. “wanna do it together. give it to me, baby, i know ya can.”

his encouragement helped, your arousal pulling taut like a rubber band. it was ready to snap, you could feel it. your fingers set a relentless pace, abusing your pussy as the heel of your palm pressed against your clit. “john! john, fuck, i’m gonna-” “i know you are, sweet girl. go ahead, cum for me.” and you did, hard. stars exploded behind your eyelids, low groans echoing in the empty bedroom as you worked yourself through it. the sound of your boyfriend, your captain, finding his own release reached your ears from where your phone sat against the plush of your ass. you picked it up, your breathing heavy as you came back down to earth together. price flopped back down on his cot, a hand over his chest as he willed his racing heart to slow. he was getting too old for this shit.

“good, baby? feel better now?” you asked, taking a moment to relax before cleaning up. you heard him sigh, the sound one of contentedness rather than exasperation like it’d been before. “yeah, dove. you always know just how to make me feel good.” that makes you smile, blinking slowly as you sink into the mattress. “miss you, john.”

“miss you too, lovie.”

constructive criticism greatly appreciated, i wanna write more of this type of stuff but i am very inexperienced when it comes to writing smut!!

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

DRABBLE: YOU SPEAK HIS NATIVE LANGUAGE TO HIM (18+) (One Piece) (for Fem!Readers)

Writer's Note: I had this idea after remembering that Luffy is Brazilian. Enjoy! And please, PLEASE let me know if any of the foreign phrases used are not correct or accurate. I did the research on Google. Thank you! -Jazz

*********

LUFFY (PORTGUESE) 

You always loved it when Luffy spoke in his native language. 

He is from Brazil and though he hadn’t lived there in years since meeting Shanks and traveling among the Grand Line with the Strawhats crew, nothing and nobody could ever take the Brazilian out of him. It was in his blood. 

He always made it known with the Brazilian recipes he would ask Sanji to make and the music he would blast across the ship. Usually, this resulted in him forcing you to dance him with and holding your hips as his his swayed and rolled in ways that often resulted in your knees going weak and every part of you becoming tingly and sensitive (including the places where Luffy usually had his mouth on). 

He wouldn’t speak Portuguese often; only sometimes and at random moments, like when something exciting happened or when he was asleep. You would catch him mumbling words in his native tongue as he drooled on the pillow, making you giggle.

He would do it during sex too, usually when his tongue was buried deep in your pussy: “Você tem um gosto tão bom, mama. Deliciosa (You taste so good, mama. Delicious.),” he would mumble into your pussy while you whimpered and moaned.

Or when he had his cock buried deep inside of you as he hammered away at your insides, gripping and smacking your ass: “Tão bom! (So good!)” he’d moan into the bedroom. “C’mon, mama, cum with me! Goze comigo!” 

His usual high-pitched voice would get deeper and raspier in his native tongue as each foreign words rolled and flipped on his tongue. It would make you combust every single time, cumming all over his cock at the same time as him bursting inside of you. He would then peck your forehead once you snuggled up together, his hat on your head. “Te amo,” he’d whisper, never telling you what it meant, but you had a feeling. 

So after picking up on some of his lines and inflections, you decided to try out speaking his language one night. It was a boring night and Sanji was cooking, trying to get Luffy out of the kitchen as he groaned and complained about being hungry.

“Y/N, would you please come get him?” Sanji sighed. “He won’t leave and I’m not gonna have him sneaking the ingredients off of the counter to eat.” 

“I’m not gonna do that!” Luffy protested. “I told you so, Sanji!”

You had giggled and walked to the stereo sitting on the table, playing one of Luffy's favorite songs that was popular in Brazil. The captain’s head immediately shot up from the table, his big eyes staring at you. You smiled and began to sway to the music, opening your arms for him. 

With the biggest grin on his face, he shot up and went to you, immediately gathering you into his arms. You giggled as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck and held your hips as he began to sway with you, your senses invaded by nothing but him. He softly sang the lyrics to you, his voice raspy and soft, each word rolling off of the tongue. He sang has if the very song was written for you and you decided now was the perfect moment. 

“Luffy?” you whispered. He pulled away to look down at you, looking like a confused puppy. You cupped his face in your hands and pressed a kiss to his lips before whispering, very low, “Te amo.” 

Once those gears in his head started turning, you’ve never seen him look so happy. His smile grew about ten sizes before he gripped you to him and coated your face in kisses. “Hey, hey!” Sanji yelled. “Not while I’m cooking! Do that outside!” 

ZORO (JAPANESE) 

Compared to Luffy, Zoro barely spoke Japanese. 

He would only mutter his native language in swears when he was stressed or angry. Other than that, you could never catch him doing it. He barely even spoke about Japan as a whole.

“Why you askin’ so many questions?” he would grumble, glaring at your curious gaze. “I haven’t been there since I was a baby. Go read up on it or somethin’.” 

But when he did speak Japanese, and that was very rare, you loved it. His voice would get even deeper when he spoke the foreign swear words during a battle and it would make your heart skip several beats. You wanted to somehow coax him to speak it more or even be closer to him than you already were. 

So you started teaching yourself Japanese. You collected as many language books as you could during your stops on islands when walking into town with Nami and Robin and began practicing. In two months, you began speaking in sentences though not professionally or fluently. However, you got each inflection down. 

The first time you said something in Japanese to Zoro, he was busy working out one hot, boring day and you had wandered in, feeling extra bratty. “What?” he demanded, grunting as he did his bench presses, his muscles bulging and glistening in sweat. 

“Just came to see if you broke up with your dumbbell yet,” you asked sarcastically. “I don’t know how the cuddling at night works, but to each its own.” 

Zoro cut his forest green eyes your way before going back to his exercises, barely pausing. “Woman, if you’re gonna come in here with that shit, leave it at the door. You know I need to focus on my training.” 

“But you’re already so strong, Zo!” you protested, padding farther into the room. “And a great fighter. You can spare one day without training.”

Though Zoro looked pleased with the praise, he still didn’t let up and continued to pump those sexy arms away at his presses. Pursing your lips, you walked over to him and kneeled down before him, just as he lifted the dumbbell up and put it back up on the rack behind his head. 

You began to run your hands up his thick, tree trunk-like thighs in his green slacks, squeezing the muscles and digging your nails deliciously into them. He liked that. He tensed immediately at your touch, breathing heavily from the workout. “Stop that,” he growled. “I’m tryin’ to cool down.” 

“Then let me help you,” you purred, sneaking your hand over his cock to give it a squeeze. You were pleased to find that he was already hard. He grunted at the contact and began to squirm under your touch. “I mean it, Y/N,” he panted. “Cut it out.” 

You looked up at him then, staring boldly into his eyes. "Watashi o tsukuru (make me)”, you said in a low, breathy voice that often made your man go absolutely insane. 

At the sound of his native language coming from your lips, the swordsman sat up straight and stared down at you, astounded and extremely aroused. His cock grew in your hand as a blush appeared on his cheeks.

“What did you say?” he questioned, his voice dangerously low. You just smiled and stood up, tearing your hand away from his cock.

“Now are you gonna spend time with me?” you questioned, a hand on your hip and arching a brow at him. 

While this didn't get him out of the training room, it did help tear him away from his workout to instead work you out, your legs spread over his bench and his cock pummeling your insides as he whispered how good you felt in Japanese.

Mission accomplished. 

SANJI (FRENCH) 

Sanji always felt proud of his ethnicity and heritage, so he always made it a point to speak his native language. 

Like Luffy, it would be at random moments. He could be cooking and would mutter to himself in French about instructions or maybe lyrics to a song.

Sometimes, he would swear if he nearly dropped a bottle of sauce or about the noise Luffy and Usopp would make outside the kitchen door. But always, when he served you and the crew, he would give you all a bright, proud smile and a “Bon appétit!”. 

And always, always, he would speak French during sex. He would whisper in your ear about how good you felt and how sweet you tasted, his words like honey in your ears.

“Je me send is bien en too, princesse, (I feel so good inside you, princess)” he’d moan into the tense, sexed-up air of your bedroom, your ankles on his broad shoulders as his cock stroked your insides. “Tellement parfait. Si belle. (So perfect. So beautiful).”

He would kiss your foot before taking one of your toes into your mouth. 

That would usually set you off like a rocket, making you cum all over the bed and his cock. And because he thought you were so pretty, he would always explode deep inside you, filling you to the brim. That’s part of why he always let his native tongue slip in the bedroom with you. 

Other than the nasty shit, he would always tell you, “Je t’aime”. When he would kiss you; before you went to bed; when you’d separate for an expedition or when when you’d go to the other side of the ship. It was only right as the love chef. “Je t’aime,” he’d say, an adoring smile on his face and hearts in his eyes. It would make you tingle and feel warm all over you. 

So you surprised him one night when he cooked dinner specifically for you before the crew even ate. “Sanji, baby, you didn’t have to make me a whole separate meal,” you giggled as you sat down in the chair he pulled out for you. “I would’ve eaten the lamb!” 

“Nonsense,” he tutted, looking sexy in his apron dusted with flour and spices. “You said you didn’t like lamb too much. And believe me, honey: fixin’ grilled fish for you is nothing compared to what these hooligans want.” He then pressed a kiss to your cheek and whispered, “Bon appétit, my love” before hurrying back to the stove to check the yeast rolls in the oven. 

You stared down at the dinner spread on your plate: grilled fish drizzled in lemon and garlic with a side of honey-glazed, oven-roasted carrots, kus kus, and steamed broccoli. You cut a piece of the fish and put it into your mouth, humming in pleasure at the taste. You turned to Sanji, his back to you, as you gushed over the food. “This food is delicious, Sanji!” you said. "C'est trés bon! (It's very good!)” 

Sanji visibly paused before turning around to look at you, confused. Your smile grew and you lowered your fork. “Mes compliments au chef (My compliments to the chef),” you giggled. Before you could take a breath, Sanji was flying across the kitchen and planting kisses all over your face as you giggled. “Since when do you speak French, my love?” he laughed, giddy. 

“I’ve been practicing,” you hummed, playing with the color of his shirt. “I wanted to impress you.” Hearts in his eyes, Sanji pressed his forehead against yours. “And impress me, you did, mon there,” he murmured. “Now finish that food so I can hear more of my native tongue coming out of those sweet lips.” 

You did and while he had you bent over the kitchen counter while the crew ate in the other room, you repeated one word to him, over and over again, as he pummeled inside of you: “Je t’aime”. 

LAW (GERMAN) 

Law never spoke German. Or at least, not in front of you or the Hearts crew. 

“What’s the need?” he asked when you asked him to teach you something in his native tongue. “I haven’t lived there in years. Why are you so interested in my language anyway?” You would tell him you were curious, but that wouldn’t make him budge. 

You found it sad. Though he claimed he felt pride in his ethnicity and his native land, he barely mentioned his time there or taught you any phrases. So, in order to coax him into it, you fixed him a German dish. One day when the ship docked on a little island, you ran out to town to grab the ingredients for it and fixed it for him that night. It took a lot of preparation and stressing over whether or not he’d respond well to it, but that night, you sat the crew down for dinner. 

“I made something special for y’all,” you giggled, smiling secretively at Law. He scowled in confusion and suspicion at you, not sure what you were up to, until the crew took the silver covers off of their plates to reveal their meal: slices of roasted pork shoulder glazed with a cumin sauce and sitting on a bed of roasted potatoes and peppers. “Ta-da!” you shouted. “Sh-wen-braten!” 

At you mispronouncing the name, the corner of Law’s lips quirked a bit while his crew barely blinked. They were too busy drooling over and gobbling down their food. “Wow, Y/N!” Bepo growled. “This tastes amazing! I haven't tasted pork this good in so long!” 

“Thank you,” you giggled, but your attention was still all on Law as he took a bite. You stood behind his chair, nervously ringing a dish towel around your hands. “How is it?” you asked, bending down to hear him better over the chatter. 

He continued to chew and chew, leaving you in suspense, before he swallowed. “S’good,” he murmured and you sighed in relief. “Though you pronounced the dish wrong.” You made a face, pouting cutely in confusion at him. “It’s pronounced “schweinebraten,” he said, his deep voice rolling over the foreign word.

“Sch.” He paused, waiting for you to repeat it back to him. “Weine.” You parroted him, doing your best to keep from smiling out of giddiness. “Braten.” 

“Braten,” you pronounced, earning a satisfied nod before he turned back around to finish his meal. But you weren't done. you leaned down to his ear, loving how he tensed at your touch and presence. “Between you and me, I already knew how to pronounce it,” you purred. “I just wanted to hear you say it. Guten appetit (Enjoy your meal).” 

Something happened to Law in that moment hearing you speak in his language. His cock swoll in his pants and he nearly broke his fork as he sat rigid in his seat. You turned and walked away back to the stove, swaying your hips and biting back a grin as he watched, wanting to fuck you right there in front of his entire crew and make you say some very nasty words in his native tongue. 

“Law, why are all red like that?!” Jean practically yelled across the table. 

“Shut up!” Law growled as you laughed. He was gonna get you back for that later tonight.

[reiding-writing]

Incessant Insomnia [ s.r ]

summary:

The BAU had just finished a case across the country in California, and were now finally on the jet to fly back home, needless to say, everyone was absolutely exhausted and very ready to get some shut eye during the 5 hour flight. Trouble was, Spencer couldn’t sleep, even though he had managed to bag the jet’s sofa, which was arguably the comfiest place on the plane.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers?

warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence, mentions of child death, mentions of touch-starvedness, no use of y/n

wc: 2.4k

masterlist!!

a/n: this is my first upload so please bare with me i’m still learning 😭

As you board the jet alongside your team, you can't help but notice the exhaustion etched on Spencer Reid's face. It had been a grueling week, with a disturbingly gruesome case across the country that took all semblance of mental energy out of the team to solve. Spencer, ever known for his genius-level intellect and unwavering dedication, didn’t take a single moment to rest throughout it.

And even as he scored the jet’s long sofa for the flight, arguably the most comfortable place on the plane, that moment of rest still didn’t arrive, and Spencer had long given up trying to fall asleep by the time the jet had stablised at 40,000 feet.

He’d tried everything, a Tchaikovsky Sonata playing through his cheap headphones, a travel pillow around his neck, his shoes discarded on the floor so he could curl up his legs under him, he’d even counted the amount of dimmed lightbulbs in the light strips and the number of creases in the leather bound chairs. Nothing. And he was becoming increasingly jealous of the rest of the team resting soundly in their seats.

He’d battled with insomnia for most of his life, a curse of his intelligence as he liked to call it, his mind constantly running so fast it never gave him any time to relax. But this was a little different. Spencer hated working cases involving children, for what ever reason they seemed to press all of the wrong buttons in his mind, and in this instance, the child they’d been called out to save had died before the team had even arrived in California to help.

Spencer couldn’t seem to get the image of anguish from the child’s mother from his mind, replaying like a faulty cassette player with no pause button as he rolled onto his back and let his eyes fall back open. There was no way he was going to get any sleep on this flight.

He instead took to an ever-living comfort of his, reading, in the hope that his inner monologue would drown out the guttural sobs ringing through his ears from the grieving mother when the team had uncovered her child’s body, buried underneath her own house.

He pushed himself to sit upright, his legs stretched out in front of him to the point where his feet were hanging freely, and he rifled through the go-bag left tucked under the sofa beneath him for his hand-bound anthology of his favourite poets, a book you’d gifted him for his birthday a few months prior. A book he’d read a dozen times since then.

His fingers traced over the familiar cover. He could almost feel the indentations of the embossing on the hardcover, a tactile memory that was as comforting as the words within. The pages were already dog-eared from countless readings, corners turned down to mark passages that had resonated with him, pen marks and streaks of neon yellow over phrases that had touched his soul in ways that only the poetic articulation of human emotion could.

It had become more than just a collection of poems to him; it was a sanctuary, a haven he could escape to when the horrors of his job became too much. He cherished each line, each word, each letter, as they provided a counterpoint to the harsh realities he faced daily. Except, this time it didn’t seem to work.

His mind was still overrun with images of the recent case, each line of verse morphing into a haunting reminder of the child’s life cut short. The words that usually brought him solace now echoed with a sorrowful undertone, amplifying his guilt and making his insomnia all the more pronounced.

The jet’s engines hummed steadily in the background, a usual comforting sound, now merely adding to the cacophony of his thoughts. His eyes, red-rimmed and weary, scanned over the pages, but the words blurred, morphing into a tale of despair that was not originally intended by the poets.

He tried to divert his mind, to block out the pictures of the crime scene, the teary eyes of the distraught mother, the lifeless body of the child, but it was all in vain. Their faces, their voices, their cries, they clung to him, refusing to let go.

His fingers tightened around the book, knuckles whitening with the strain. He could almost hear the deafening silence that followed after they’d found the body, the grim realisation that they were too late, that a life was lost before they could even try to save it.

Spencer felt a lump rise in his throat, the weight of the guilt and sorrow threatening to suffocate him. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the emotions that threatened to break him. He was a profiler, a genius, he was supposed to save lives, not let them slip through his fingers.

He closed the book, the once soothing words now a stark reminder of his failure. He leaned back against the plush leather of the seat, his legs stretched out in front of him, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. The soft hum of the jet's engines was the only sound that filled the silence, a silence that was deafening in its own right.

Sleep was a distant dream, an elusive solace that he knew wouldn’t come. The guilt, the sorrow, the failure, they were his companions for the night, refusing to leave.

“Spencer…”

Your voice cut through the chaos ravaging his mind, and he flickered his eyes to his left, where you were comfortably curled up under a fleece blanket, head nestled in the small gap between the padded chair you were sat on and the jet’s wall, eyes resting closed.

“Why are you moving around so much..?”

Your question was cut short by a yawn, voice laced with an obvious exhaustion. His restlessness must have woken you up.

"I can't sleep," he confessed, rubbing his temples. "The case... it's still playing in my mind." His voice was barely a whisper, the silence of the jet amplifying its weight.

Your eyes fluttered open at his confession, a mix of concern and understanding washing over your face. You knew how deeply these cases affected him, how they seemed to burrow into his mind, refusing to let go.

"Spencer," you murmured, your voice barely louder than his own. "You did everything you could. You always do."

He glanced at you, his weary eyes meeting your earnest ones, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t have the words to explain the turmoil churning inside him. “We didn’t- none of it mattered…”

You sighed, removing yourself from the comfortability of your previous position, letting yourself sit with your legs in front of you and your feet on the floor. “Spencer of course it mattered,”

Spencer pushed himself upright as you did, subconciously mirroring your actions as you wake further from your half-asleep daze.

“He still died-”

“He was dead before we even landed Spencer, there’s nothing you could’ve done to change that,”

You cut off the inevitable start of a ramble from Spencer, raising your voice a little to take over the conversation whilst still making sure not to wake your sleeping teammates scattered around the jet.

“I know… I’m sorry i’m just-”

Spencer sighs, dragging his hands over his face and through the unruly mess of his hair, flattened and tangled from his incessant restlessness. “I’m fine… Sorry for waking you,” He let himself fall backwards to lie down again, turning onto his right side so that his back was facing you, as if not being able to see you would put an end to the conversation.

You didn’t say anything else, and Spencer resigned himself to listening to the mind-numbing drone of the jet’s engine as he heard you shift around, presumably getting back into a comfortable position to fall asleep again.

Except you weren’t quite done with him yet, and your weight on the edge of the sofa shifted his position as you sat down, your hand ghosting over his shoulder, not quite sure if you should actually touch him or not.

You knew Spencer had an aversion to physical touch, he always had, as long as you’d known him anyway. He’d rattled on about the number of bacterial colonies on human skin and how their transference could lead to illnesses you wouldn’t even try to name, swerving handshakes for awkward waves and keeping a pocket-sized bottle of hand sanitiser on his person at all times. He’d insist on keeping his distance, even from the people he was closest to, claiming that ‘you never knew what illnesses someone could be carrying’.

But you also knew that he needed comforting, and that words seemingly weren’t enough.

You gently placed your hand on Spencer's shoulder, your fingers just barely grazing over the sleeve of his shirt, offering a silent comfort that words couldn't provide. He tensed for a moment, his body still on high alert from the intensity of the never-ending rampage of his thoughts, but then slowly relaxed into your touch. The weight of his exhaustion seemingly lifting off his shoulders as he allowed himself to lean into your presence.

The soft warmth of your touch seeped into his skin, soothing the deep-rooted ache within him. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes, conveying a depth of understanding and empathy that words could never fully capture. In that moment, you became his anchor, providing a much-needed respite in the midst of his turmoil.

As Spencer leaned into your touch, his eyes closed, shutting out the harsh realities that had plagued his mind. He found solace in the simplicity of your presence, the tangible reminder that he wasn't alone in his pain. The weight of the guilt and sorrow that had threatened to suffocate him slowly began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of comfort and support.

You sat there in silence, your hand still resting gently on his shoulder, offering a steady presence that allowed him to find a temporary refuge from his racing thoughts. You didn't need to offer empty reassurances or try to fix what couldn't be fixed. Instead, your mere presence and the touch of your hand conveyed a profound message: "I am here for you."

Time seemed to stand still as you sat there, connected by that simple touch. It was a fragile moment. Fragile, but powerful.

You slowly added a gentle pressure with your fingers, rubbing your thumb over the curve of his shoulder as his behaviour showed that the contact wasn’t crossing any boundaries, as Spencer felt the tension in his shoulders ease and his racing thoughts begin to quiet, a sense of calm washed over him.

The weight of the case and its tragic outcome still lingered heavily on Spencer's mind, but your presence provided a much-needed respite.

“I’m so tired…”

You slowly escalate your touch, running your hand slowly over his shoulder and up the side of his neck, careful to watch for any signs of discomfort from him.

“I know Spence…”

The soft nickname rolling off your tongue only fuelled to add an extra blanket of comfort over him in the moment, although joined by an uncertain ache that spread through his chest until it felt almost suffocating. Your touch comforted him more than he could ever thank you for, but it also upset him beyond belief.

Spencer couldn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes, nor could he stop the slight tremble of his shoulders as they threatened to spill down his cheeks, and the shaking of his breath only proved to expose him further as you slowed the gentle caresses of your fingers to a halt.

As you felt the weight of his emotions, you gently pulled him into a comforting embrace, allowing him to release the tears he had been holding back as he buried his face into your lap. You held him tightly, offering a safe space for him to let go of the pain and sorrow that had consumed him.

“I’m sorry-”

Spencer choked out an apology through his tears, as though his emotions were burdening you. His tears soaked into your shirt, but you didn't mind. You were just grateful that he felt comfortable enough to let his emotions out, to release the pent-up pain that had been haunting him.

“Don’t apologise Spencer, it’s alright…”

You whispered soft words of comfort and reassurance as your hand moved to slowly run through his hair, reminding Spencer that he was a brilliant and compassionate person who had done everything in his power to help. You reminded him that he couldn't shoulder the weight of the world's tragedies alone, that he needed to take care of himself too.

Slowly, Spencer's sobs subsided, replaced by deep breaths as he regained control of his emotions. He pulled away slightly, his eyes red and puffy, but there was a glimmer of gratitude in them.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with both exhaustion and appreciation. "I don't know what I would do without you."

You gently guide his head back down into your lap, allowing him to use your thighs as a makeshift pillow so he could finally get some rest from his own mind. “It’s alright Spencer, just relax for me alright?”

As Spencer finally succumbed to the exhaustion weighing him down, his breathing gradually slowed and his tense muscles relaxed. You continued to stroke his hair gently, your touch offering a sense of comfort and security that Spencer desperately needed.

The weight of the case and its devastating outcome had taken a toll on him, both physically and emotionally. He had carried the burden of the child's death on his shoulders, blaming himself for not being able to save a life that was already lost.

But in your embrace, he felt a glimmer of hope.

With each gentle stroke of your hand, Spencer felt a wave of warmth wash over him. It was as if your touch carried with it a healing energy, easing the pain and sorrow that had consumed him. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to fully surrender to the comfort and safety of your embrace.

In the silence of the jet, Spencer's exhaustion finally overcame him. His body relaxed completely, finding respite from the relentless strain it had endured as it fell into a peaceful slumber. You continued to hold him, providing a sense of security and warmth that he hadn't felt in a long time, and you slowly fell into your own exhaustion, your fingers slowing their movements through his hair to a halt as you drifted into your own state of sleep.

[ramp-it-up]

Knock You Down: III

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down. Bucky feeds you after the failure of date number 2.

This is a follow up to Part II

Word count: 2.3 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: Okay I Lied! I added more words as I edited this and it ended up over 5K. So... there will be four parts to this fic which has posessed my soul. It will be posted Tuesday 10/15. Thank all of you for rocking with me on this one. This was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, idiots in love, playful banter. Bucky and reader talk about sex, without talking about it. Or doing it. This is fluffy, yet angsty and I feel like you might not like it. Let me know if you do.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

Bucky Barnes was sitting at your table eating Thai food with you and you weren’t mad. He had ordered twice the amount you requested and damn you, you thought it was cute.

He was cute, casual in t-shirt, sweats and a ball cap. He looked as alluring as he did in a suit.

You were doomed.

Bucky didn't try to get into a deep discussion or get close to you. He just kept you company as you ate and poured you some of the best rosé that you’d ever tasted. 

Food was your love language, and having good food did a lot for your mood. It also didn’t hurt that the delicious snack known as James Bucky Barnes was sitting across from you.

You respected his game.

But somehow you didn’t think it was a game. He’d been honest and straightforward with you. As much as a man in his position could be. Then you realized that he’d probably told you too much.

“What is it, Frumoasă? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you here to give me a last meal and then kill me?”

Bucky laughed loudly. He loved that you had the ability to make him do that. He loved…

“That mind of yours, Y/N.” 

He shook his head at you.

“I’m not going to kill you. I want you safe. Even if you are not going to be mine.”

Your ears perked up at that phrase.

You already knew that Nico was parked outside of your place. You realized that he had been hanging around since Monday night. 

But what you were tripping over is that Bucky said that he wanted you to be his. 

You normally weren’t into possessiveness, but on James Barnes it was sexy as fuck.

After eating, it was only polite that you gave him a tour of your brownstone. He didn’t touch you, but the proximity of his body to yours at the door of your bedroom was heady stuff. You wanted him to… 

But you just took a deep breath and led him back down to your front door.

“Before you kick me out, I have something to say.”

Bucky had never felt the need to explain anything to anyone in a very long time. But you weren’t just anyone.

“I apologize for giving you a security detail without your knowledge. And then piling my friends on as well. They wanted to check you out, and I wanted to be sure that you were safe. Those gossip blog posts have heightened the risk for you.”

Your eyes widened.

“What posts?”

“We’ve been papped every time we’ve gone out. You didn’t know? I thought that’s why you asked what you did tonight.”

You groaned. 

“No, my friends must have seen them. What do they say?”

Bucky hesitated. Just a moment, and then responded to the look on your face. He ascertained that he was going to have to be straight with you consistently if he wanted to be in your company.

“Well… Since we’ve been spotted together more than once, one particular site is claiming that we’re already in a relationship. They say you are my girlfriend.”

The softness of his voice when he said ‘girlfriend’ got to you.

Whoo boy.

You groaned, then laughed.

“That’s ridiculous, you’ve never even kissed me.”

Bucky laughed too.

“Ha ha. Yeah. It’s crazyyyyyy.” 

“Isn’t it though…?

You tried to look deep into his eyes, and he let you. You saw something that didn’t really surprise you. So you decided to just ask the question that was on your mind.

“James, what do you want out of this? This…”

You didn’t say what you were thinking, but he knew exactly what you were thinking when you didn’t finish your sentence.

Bucky looked off as if he were seeing something that wasn’t there yet, then back at you.

“I want… you. I don’t want a one night stand. Or a situationship.”

He watched you carefully as he said the next words.

“I want, I need so much more from you.”

He took both of your hands into his as he leaned against the door frame.

“Listen. When you left earlier this evening, it knocked me on my face. You’ve got me thinking about a lot. Things like what our life might be like in the future.”

You were spiraling as he spoke. ‘Our life,’ ‘future.’ But you tried to remain calm.

“This was never supposed to happen to me. Y/N. But ever since you came into my office on Monday, my heart has been racing. I’ve got feelings for you. Strong ones.”

“Wow.”

It was all you could say. But when you thought about it, you felt the same exact way. You smiled at him and his nerves calmed. 

Just a bit.

“I have to admit that every morning when you text me, I get the biggest smile on my face. That wasn’t something I wanted or planned.”

You looked down at your fingers entwined with his. Yes. This could be a thing.

“It’s not exactly convenient to have these kinds of feelings this fast, James. Especially with all has happened.”

You looked up at him, and the hurt on your face destroyed him.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. And I understand if you want to pump the breaks. I-”

“If you want me, then why haven’t you made a move?”

You interrupted him to ask about the next most important topic on your list.

Bucky recognized your insecurity.

“Don’t ever doubt the sexiness of your appeal, Frumoasă. I want to kiss you, and more to be honest. But I haven’t because I am so afraid of you.”

The way he looked at you caused a tingle of fear to unfurl in your belly.

Or was it desire? 

“You are afraid of me. I see. You’re a terrible kisser. That’s why you don’t go on second dates. I get it now.”

Bucky threw back his head and laughed.

“Maybe so.”

He gazed at your smile and the way your entire face was alight. Then he brought one of your hands to his lips.

His mouth on your palm enabled you to feel the salt and pepper whiskers on his face. And when he slid those lips to your wrist you moaned a little and squirmed and his eyelids fluttered closed as he inhaled the scent there.

“The skin here is so soft and fragrant, makes me wonder about…”

He stopped speaking but the silence spoke volumes. This man was having wild thoughts about you. Of that you were sure now. You wanted him everywhere.

Bucky brought your hand down from his face and rubbed your wrist with his thumb. The sensuality of the act made you feel unstable. You must have wobbled because his hand went down to your waist to steady you. But you just felt more dizzy.

He chuckled at your tell and saved you again.

“Can we sit?”

“Yeah.”

The couch was a bit dangerous, but the blood was leaving your head.

“Truth?”

“Always, James.”

“Okay. The truth is I don’t think you could handle it.”

You scoffed at the challenge.

“Come again?”

He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes and then he sobered up.

“If I kiss those lips, Y/N, I’m not going to abandon them in haste. I’m going to take my time. And I’m not being cocky, but I’m pretty sure things will progress rapidly. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop myself from giving you anything you ask for. Anything.”

The sensual promise was making you wet. You clenched your thighs together, causing Bucky to look down at them and lick his lips. When he looked back up, his eyes were dilated.

You knew that you could have him right now if you wanted. You took a deep breath to clear your head and Bucky’s eyes were on your lips.

This feeling was a drug.

“I’m already falling for you, but I know that I will crash into you. I can get intense about the things and the people that I care about. And you’re not ready for that, Frumoasă. Not at all.”

You pulled your hands away from his even though you wanted to jump his bones. 

“How do you know what I’m ready for, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky smiled at you.

“You just said that your feelings for me aren’t convenient.”

You sucked your teeth at him and crossed your arms, turning your body away from him. Bucky was charmed by your pout, but a little mad at you closing yourself off from him. If you were his, he’d teach you a lesson about that. He’d open you up. 

But damn, he didn’t need to be so hard right now. You had an important day ahead, and he wasn’t going to rush this experience. He tried to calm down, but his voice betrayed him.

“You also haven’t asked me for a kiss. Although you did tell me that you wanted to fuck my voice...”

You dropped your head, embarrassed.

“Let’s not!”

He laughed, on cloud nine at your shyness with him. He’d teach you to be wanton, and have a grand time doing it.

“Frumoasă mea, you could request a kiss at any time. And I will always give you anything you ask of me. If you ask nicely of course.”

You cocked your head and Bucky bit his lip at how adorable you were.

“You want me to beg you for a kiss?”

Bucky took in the fire in your eyes and his own darkened.

“A kiss is not what I want you begging for.”

You coughed to cover a whimper as your mind went where Bucky wanted it to go. You couldn’t believe that your panties were soaked by someone you’d never even kissed.

“I just want you to know what you’re signing up for if we get physical.”

“From a kiss? It’s like that?”

You tried to be incredulous, but you believed every word that he said. You just wanted to verify.

“So let me get this straight. I kiss you, you rock my world, but I’m not ready for it?”

You’d never been so annoyed yet so turned on.

Bucky shrugged.

“Or you could be right. I’m a horrible kisser. A lousy lay. I’m just trying to stretch out the good times with you before you find that out and dump me.”

You shook your head at him, not wanting to laugh, but doing so anyway.

“...But, in order to find that out, I would have to kiss and lay with you.”

“Of course.”

“You know what…”

Bucky teasing you was the best kind of foreplay. You felt comfortable with him. And now you were intrigued.

“I can’t with you.”

“So we agree.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t, but you’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Fuck you, James.”

“Is that a request?”

This banter was everything.

You got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen.

“I’m going get you something to drink. Do you drink tea? You seem a little thirsty.”

“As long as you drink with me. You seem a little parched yourself.”

Bucky called after you while watching your curves in your sweats as you flipped him off. He rubbed his hand on the ridge of his semi-hard dick. You were so damn hot. He concentrated on calming down while the kettle heated.

“Honey?”

“Yes, dear?”

You laughing was amazing.

You came back with a tray of herbal tea, milk, and honey and sat down again.

“I do want to talk to you about something else.”

He said it as he prepared his cup.

“Yes?” 

“I want to let you know, as much as I can, the plans for me to go legit. Can I have just a little bit of your time tonight? And then I will let you get some rest.”

Your heart melted and you smiled at him.

“Yeah. You got it.”

—-

You woke up at 3 am, Bucky’s steady heartbeat under your ear and his arms wrapped around you. You had fallen asleep after hours of talking about the future. You looked up at him and those lips were right there. 

You could just steal a kiss.

But you didn’t, just tried to ease out of his arms so you could go pee.

Bucky’s arms tightened around you and you couldn’t move. He was awake.

“What time is it?”

“A little after three.”

He let you go and sat up, looking around, then at you.

“I’m sorry, I talked your ear off and bored you to sleep.”

You shook your head. 

“I wasn’t bored. You made me feel safe.”

Bucky grinned.

“I’m glad that you feel safe with me. You are, you know.”

His morning voice was sensual heaven. You never wanted to kiss someone more in your life.

“And for your safety, I probably need to leave now.”

You wanted him; his body felt good against yours. But he was right. You chuckled and then led him to your door.

“Okay.”

At the door, Bucky turned and looked down at you. He was thoughtful.

“Do you have plans for Sunday?”

“No, why?”

“I wanted to ask you on date number three Saturday night.”

You two stared at each other for a beat before he continued.

“How do you feel about a late dinner at my place after the exhibition? Since you don’t have to get up early the next day.”

You took in his meaning, but you didn’t address it.

“Are you trying to feed me, James?”

His gaze got intense. You got wet again, realizing the double meaning. 

“You have no idea, Frumoasă.”

Holy shit. He caught it too. You gulped.

“Okay. Sounds… intriguing.”

Bucky looked like a little boy on Christmas morning.

“I’ll stop by the center around midday, then go shopping for our meal. Nico will bring you by. About 8?”

“It’s a date.”

You two grinned at each other like idiots. Then he opened your door to leave.

“James.”

“Yes, Frumoasă?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you into his arms and kissed you on the forehead. It was perfect, and a little bit like a promise.

Then he left, straight into the early morning fog, waving at Nico as he got into a sleek black sports car, blew a kiss at you, and then pulled away.

That felt like an escape from the inevitable.

To both him and to you.

——

As always, let me knowww! ❤️

Part IV Here

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Hiiiii! So, I'm Arab and I was wondering is you could do a y/n x Mattheo riddle(cuz y/n is so badass) where they're fighting about the girls that go to Mattheo. y/n goes into Arabic and mattheo goes hard and then. . . you can determine what you want to do with it. BTW I LOVE UUUUU

ps can u make them in a secret relationship?

I LOVE UUUUU TOO AAAA THANK YOU! Sorry this took so long!

All Yours

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: Oral(female receiving), fingering, unprotected sec, cream pie, cussing.

18+ Minors DNI!

There he was again. Your secret boyfriend. Mattheo Riddle. Surrounded by girls at one of the Slytherin parties. There were quite a few reasons to keep your relationship secret. His father. Your parents. His friends. Even your friends. He didn’t want you to be used against him as a weakness either.

Whatever the reasons, you were still fuming about how he spoke with the girls. Granted, he never did touch them or reciprocate their flirtations. But he didn’t push them away either or reject them outright.

He spotted you across the room, locking eyes with you and giving you his wicked smile that normally made you melt. When he got met with your crossed arms and eye roll, he knew you were mad and the smile dropped.

He was able to get away from the girls, redirecting them to his friends before he slipped away. He was pulling you away from everyone, skirting around the party to avoid anyone’s attention as he pulled you up to his dorm.

He closed the door behind you two before speaking. “Alright. What’s wrong, sweet girl?”

“Don’t call me that.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest again.

He sighed. “Fine. What’s wrong?”

You weren’t sure what to say, trying to figure out how to phrase it. You weren’t exactly prepared for this confrontation.

“Is it the girls?” He asked, stepping closer.

“Of course it is!” You nearly yelled. How can he be so stupid?

“Come on, princess. You know I can’t do anything about it.” He tried speaking softly as he touched your arm.

All that did though was piss you off even more. You pulled your arm from him and started yelling. “Yes, you can! You can tell them to back off! You can tell them you’re not interested!”

“I can’t do that. It’ll be suspicious. I don’t want people catching on that I have a girlfriend.” He said, keeping his voice calm.

You knew what he meant. He meant he didn’t want people to find out so they can use you against him or harm you. But you were mad, so of course the words were falling from your mouth faster than you were even thinking. “Oh, it’s so bad to have a girlfriend now? I’m that embarrassing to you?”

“No-” He tried interjecting, but you cut him off.

You were slipping into Arabic without even realizing it. You were just yelling and he was staring at you, stunned. It was the first time he’d heard you speak Arabic, let alone yelling it.

You stopped yelling after a few moments, looking at him to respond. “What?”

“That was so hot.” He said and his mouth was on yours.

The anger that you had was turning into desire for him as you guided you two towards the bed, lips pressed together still as you took off what clothes you could without breaking the kiss. He pushed you back onto the bed once you reached it and helped you out of your clothes, wasting no time to sink between your thighs and start licking and sucking like a starved man.

“Keep going. Talk to me.” He said, pushing two fingers inside you.

It took you a moment to start talking, rambling something about how good it feels and whatever else came to mind. It’s not like he knew what you were saying anyways.

“Fucking hot.” He groaned before licking at your clit again.

You kept your rambling, only breaking with moans and whimpers. His name falling from your mouth every few sentences as he was desperately trying to make you fall apart on his tongue and fingers.

“That’s fucking it. You gonna cum, princess? I wanna see you cum on my fingers. Look so pretty screaming my name.” He said, staring up at you between your legs.

You couldn’t deny him what he was craving, nearly begging for. You were falling apart for him only moments later, tugging his hair, trembling, crying out his name.

He flipped you over after riding out your orgasm, gripping your hips to pull back towards him. He slowly eased the head of his dick in, groaning as you moaned.

“You’re fucking hot when you’re mad.” He said with a slight struggle as he kept pushing inside you.

“My yelling turns you on?” You asked, gripping at the sheets.

“More than it should, probably.” He started thrusting, no longer being gentle, he gripped your hips with bruising force and fucking you fast and deep. “You can keep going if you’d like. Or would you rather scream my name?” He asked, leaning over to grab your hair, lifting your head from the bed.

“Fuck, Mattheo! I-fuck!” You cried out, finding it difficult to think with his cock hitting so deep inside you.

“Guess that’s my answer, huh?” He teased.

“Shut up!” You tried for an irritated tone, but it was hardly even halfhearted.

“Oh, but you love when I talk to you like this. Can feel how wet you get, love.” He leaned down so his chest was pressing against your back. 

He was fucking into you so deep, he moved his hand from your hair to rub at your clit, making you whimper from how sensitive it was.

“Maybe you just needed to be reminded that I’m all yours in another way to get rid of that anger, hm?” He mused, pressing kisses along your upper back. “Fucking clenching me, princess, you gonna cum again already?”

All you could do was nod in response, your voice occupied with moaning and crying out with his thrusts.

“That’s it. Be a good girl then and cum for me.” He said softly. “Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

And you were trembling again, crying out his name and you gripped at the sheets.

He cursed as he came from the feeling of your pussy trying to milk him, filling you with his cum.

“I’m all yours, sweet girl. You’re all mine, too.” He said reassuringly as he pressed kisses where he could reach as your body relaxed.

[jesuistrestriste]

Sage hear me out...

Divorced dilf art who calls his younger gf mommy

art stays cooped up in the house all day—everyday—when you’re out at your hot new job.

he thinks about all the guys your age who probably ogle you and try to make passes at you, not knowing that you’ve got a man pushing 40 waiting at home for you with dinner and a pair of warm, strong open arms.

sigh.

when you do get home, he’s there to greet you (as always). he walks over and holds you close; kissing your cheek, and then your lips and your neck. each one soft and sweet and attempting to wipe your mind of any flirtation from younger men that you may or may not have endured throughout the afternoon.

“hi,” he whispers, and you slide your fingertips down his lower back, making him tremble like a wet kitten.

“hey, baby,” you hum in return. you’re shorter than him, and so when he leans his weight into you his forehead naturally falls into your shoulder. he smells like warmth and outdated cologne and need.

he mouths at your neck in the next moment, his hands sliding to lovingly cup your waist, “i missed you so much.. can i have you now?” he breathes out, his voice shaking and pleading. you feel something thick and warm press into your hip from inside his sweatpants.

and you chuckle and shake your head. he bites his bottom lip to stifle a petulant whimper.

“i missed you too,” you nip at his ear, “but i need you to use your manners if you want something from me.”

he stiffens for a moment before he stumbles forward a bit, taking you with him and gently pushing your back up against the door. “i’m sorry.”

the apology spills from his lips with an earnest desire to make his obedience known. he’d never want to disappoint you. you’re all he has these days.

“can i… can i please have you now?”

a breath. a shake of your head. a rock of his hips against your body followed by a sorrowful, begging moan.

“no?” he shifts against you, his body aching for yours.

“you’re forgetting something, Art.”

it only takes a moment for him to process your words before he’s mumbling a slurry of “i’m so sorry”s into your neck. but apologies only go so far, don’t they? he needs to correct his behavior. he needs to show you that he knows what you want from him.

“please…” he whispers, “please, mommy..”

the honorific rolls off his tongue like honey, heavy and sweet. it hangs in the air between you two and then you let out a low chuckle, “much better.”

“mommy,” he breathes out again, his erection involuntarily pulsing against your body through his clothes, “mommy, mommy, mommy—ngh“

his tone grows more desperate with each mumbling of the word; higher in pitch and more urgent. your hands move up to stroke his short blonde hair, and then you whisper into his ear.

“what do you want?”

god, what doesn’t he want? he wants your hand down his pants, your perfect cunt wrapped around his unworthy cock, your mouth, your lips, your tits. everything.

but he knows you. he knows that this is a trick question. you’re phrasing it like you’re going to give him something, a treat—a reward, but it’s a bit of a trap.

there’s a right and a wrong answer here. pick the wrong one, and he’s in for a night of painful orgasm denial (coupled with a ruined one to end the evening).

but luckily, art is smart. he knows what you want to hear.

“i.. i wanna eat mommy out.”

you pull back gently from him; and judging by the look that spreads over your face when he says that, he picked the right response.

you smile, and then your hands slide from his hair to his shoulders. in an instant, art finds himself being pushed down to the floor in front of you. he can’t help but scoot forward and shove his boner against your ankle, rutting himself into your soft skin as he dribbles precome in his briefs.

you lean back against the door, hiking up your skirt, before you’re looking down to him expectantly.

“don’t make me do all the work, baby,” you practically purr.

art’s hands scramble up your thighs to your panties, which he peels off of your sticky core with wide eyes, letting the thin fabric garment fall to pool at your heels. you giggle.

you kick them off to the side, feeling your boyfriend’s hands clutched around your legs. you sling a leg over his left shoulder, spreading your folds for him to see, and he wastes no time in parting his lips and engulfing your heat with his mouth.

you groan, letting your head loll back, and you move your fingers—letting them wander to the back of his hair once more to push his face further against you. you grind on his eager tongue, feeling him flick it over your clit as he whimpers and suckles. what a slut.

his baby blues look up to you with weighted lids, lapping at your cunt like it’s something he’s been starved of for years. his pupils dilate intensely as he stares up at you like you’re a god; something holy and unreal. and when you shake over his mouth’s ministrations, getting close, he lets out a long, drawn-out whine into your core.

he’s murmuring something that sends vibrations up your spine from the coil deep in your gut. it’s hard to make anything out when he’s drowning in you and loving it, but you can decipher bits and pieces.

“please, mommy”

“come in my mouth, mommy”

“give it all to me, mommy”

“i can take it, mommy”

you’re everything he’s ever dreamt about. you bend his perception of time and space and reason and logic. how could a sweet, beautiful, young thing like you ever want a washed-up, older athlete like him?

he prays that you don’t only like him for his money, and then he closes his eyes and mouths at your sensitive bud. he drools all over it like a sick dog, his brows pinching up as he moans out incoherent pleas for you to finish.

and holy fuck, you come hard.

a strangled cry jolts out of you as your back arches, mixing with a helpless sob from art, and then you absolutely soak his tongue with your juices. it gushes all over his face and he swallows as fast as he can; hell, he nearly chokes on it.

“ffffuck! art! oh my god, good boy, good boy, such a good boy!”

you rock over him until your orgasm recedes, and you pull his head back from you shakily by your tender hold on his hair. strings of your slick cling to the lower half of his face and the tip of his nose; a lewd squelch echoing out as he’s forcefully disconnected from your body. a dazed smile graces your lips and you peer down to watch as art’s hips shake against the hardwood floor and a dark stain appears at the front of his sweats. it’s a pathetic sight, really.

but you watch him moan softly and keep his gaze trained on you as he wipes his chin messily with the back of his hand.

“was i good?” he whispers, like he’ll cry if you say no.

he needs to hear you say it when he’s not lost in the throes of your climax.

your chest is still heaving while you try to slow your labored breaths, but you lean down anyways and meet his lips with yours. you taste yourself on his tongue. he shudders and winces.

you pull back, your bottom lip brushing his.

“so good, baby..”

art kisses the corner of your mouth softly, just once. he’s melting into you.

he loves you. but he swallows that down for now. he opts to murmur out something that’ll sum up everything he feels in a more palatable manner. something that makes him seem less desperate to keep you all to himself for as long as you can tolerate him.

something that he’s earnestly dying to say.

something that he knows you deserve to hear.

“thank you.”

[tomblythismyhusband]

hiiiii this is a request for billy!!!

what about a smutty fic where reader is riding billy while wearing his hat!? 🤍🤍

the only reason why i didn’t make this anon is so i can get the notif if you reply 😭😭

ride [billy the kid x fem!reader]

[summary]: billy the kid x fem!reader | When at a party your father was throwing, you meet Billy, a cowboy that spikes your interest.

[warnings]: 18+ MDNI, teasing, pnv, fingering, language, other smut warnings yk, edited this at 2am

[wc]: 2.8k

[note]: thank you sm for the request!! y’all are creative

You hated it when your father threw parties at the ranch. They always got too crowded, too loud, and way too dangerous. You see, cowboys and alcohol weren't always the best mix. Groping hands and lustful stares always came along with it. Your father always wanted you to be present at his little gatherings, to socialize or whatnot.

You dreaded small talk with the other girls present and weren’t interested in any of the drunken cowboys that always made fools of themselves trying to woo you. You stood there, arms crossed, pressed against the wall. Observing. The air was thick with smoke, the smell filling your lungs causing your nose to scrunch slightly.

“How’s it goin’ lil lady?” A voice sounded from your right, causing you to wince. You could practically smell the whiskey of the man’s breath without even turning to face him. Deciding to be polite you directed your attention to the man. It was a blonde cowboy. He was about 5’8”, not insanely tall but not short either. He had an unsettling feeling about him that made you feel immediately uncomfortable.

You gave him a strained smile. “It’s going well.”

The cowboy gave you a drunken smile, leaning his shoulder against the wall limply. “I like yer dress, lace is my favorite. Why… ain't you just a doll.”

You kept your smile, your cheeks hurting with tension at the forced action. “Thank you.” You replied, giving a curt nod.

The man drew closer, making your chest pump with anxiety. You always hated when men thought they could invade your space just because you were a woman. You took a slight step back causing the man to let out a low chuckle.

“You nervous doll? I ain’t gonna hurt ya. You know if you’d follow me I know a nice place we can… well you know….” He slurred, drawing one of his hands up to touch one of the strands of hair cascading over your shoulders. You jolted back, immediately slamming into someone.

Firm hands placed themselves on your shoulders as you ran into whoever it was. You turned your head, looking up quickly. “I’m sor-“

Your eyes connected with the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. You hadn’t thought the phrase “taking your breath away” was true until this moment. You couldn’t breathe. The man before you was gorgeous. Soft brown curls peaked out from under his hat that he wore, framing the sharp angles of his face nicely. The light freckles on his face indicating he’d been in the sun.

“You ok?” He said in a low voice, snapping you out of your trance. You glanced at the blonde cowboy who was still staring at you as if you were a piece of meat. The brown haired cowboy cocked an eyebrow, noticing your discomfort and pleading eyes. He cleared his throat and stared at the blonde man.

“Were you botherin’ my lady?” He asked accusingly towards the man, stepping slightly in front of you. God he was tall.. he seemed to tower over you. The blonde cowboy’s face immediately paled.

“N-no I wa-“ He stuttered.

“No? Then get the fuck out of here.” The brown haired cowboy snapped.

The blonde cowboy gave an incoherent mumble before storming away. You released the breath you were holding in and looked up at the gorgeous man who had just helped you.

“Thank you. I hate talking to men like that.” You sighed. The man laughed. (which made you realize how perfect his lips were as well)

“Men like that?” He chuckled.

You nodded. “Always too drunk and grabby all the time. No respect for anyone’s space.” You made a face of disgust that made the man before you flash another lopsided grin.

“Well.. anytime.” He gave you a smile “What’s your name?” The man asked, leaning up against the wall and crossing his arms. He stepped back, respectfully giving you room to talk. The action alone made your heart thump as your eyes trailed up his body. Even through his shirt you could tell he had some muscle to him.

“Oh- Uhm.. Y/n. Y/n Charles.” You nodded.

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh so this is your ranch? Your father’s always throwin’ parties like this huh?”

You gave him a weak smile. “Yep.. fun right?” You said sarcastically.

He let out another chuckle before looking at you again.

“Billy.” He said lowly, slightly bowing his head.

You tilted your head. Where had you heard that name before? You tried to jog your memory but it was no use. Maybe you had heard your father talking about him, or maybe some girls down at the salon.

“Billy..” You repeated, smiling up at him. “I like it.”

Billy chuckled. “Glad you like it.”

It was weird talking with Billy. You felt a bubble of desire in your stomach that you had never felt when talking to any other man. Now all of a sudden you were imagining his hands on your body, his lips on yours. You thought of his hair, wondering how it would feel if you’d drag your fingers through it.

You stared up at him, and he stared back. It wasn’t awkward, no, it was almost as if you both had an understanding. An understanding of mutual attraction. Billy wet his lips.

He leaned a bit closer, his scent filling your nose. “I know we just met but… your intrestin’ to me.” He said in a low voice.

A small smile pulled at your mouth. “I could say the same…”

Billy leaned in even closer, breath brushing the outside of your ear gently as he spoke. “We could go to your room.. get to know each other better?” His voice was rough, full of unsaid desires that made your heart palpate.

“Are you implying something a lady should be ashamed to talk about?” You teased in a whisper. Billy let out a low chuckle.

“Is that where your mind is at?” He taunted, meeting your gaze. You reached up your fingers and dragged them against the brim of his hat.

“Would it be bad if it was?” You smiled, cocking your head slightly. Billy smirked. He liked how playful you were being.

Billy’s hand found yours and he squeezed it gently, pulling you closer to him. “No… It wouldn’t.” He murmured, making your breath quicken.

You made a little tsk sound and pulled away from him. “You think I’m that easy?” You chuckled. “Nice try cowboy.” You cooed, tapping the tip of his nose playfully. Billy’s eyes widened briefly before his mouth pulled into a smirk.

“Your decision darlin’… See ya, gorgeous.” He tipped his hat then turned to walk away. You watched as he sauntered back into the crowds of people. You bit your lip as your mind replayed the interaction you just had with him. He had called you gorgeous. You couldn’t deny the fact that you found him insanely attractive- perfect even. Why were you playing hard to get? You weren’t sure why.

You continued to roam about the party, talking mindlessly with the ladies there. You tried your hardest to stay engaged in the conversations but your thoughts were still on Billy. Would it be so bad to fool around with him? Even if it was just for tonight? You couldn’t ignore the pulsing feeling in your core when you thought about it. Fuck it.

You excused yourself from whatever and whoever you were talking about quickly and started to glance around for Billy. It was still insanely crowded in the house, causing you to have to constantly say “excuse me” just to get anywhere. You searched the living room for his blue eyes but he wasn’t there. You felt a pang of fear that he had just decided to leave.

Gracefully, you slipped out of the living room and started to make your way down one of the dark hallways of your home. It was empty. The loud clamoring of the party was still heard as you walked, heels clicking on the creaking floorboards.

The bathroom door was also in this hall. You heard it open and turned. There he was.

“Billy-“ You said breathlessly. Billy’s mouth quirked up into a smirk.

“Y/n. Nice to see you again.” He joked.

You walked closer to him, tilting your head up to make eye contact. “Do you want to….”

“Yes.” He replied roughly, cutting you off before you could even finish. He grabbed your hand and led you down the hall and up the stairs, causing you to let out a little chuckle.

Once reaching the top of the stairs, you led the way, guiding him to your bedroom door. You opened it quickly. Billy was the first to step inside, pulling you in after him and immediately shutting the door. He looked around for a moment, taking note of what kind of girl you were. Your bed was made, the room tidy, and flower patterns on almost anything.

“Like it?” You teased, meeting his piercing gaze. He chuckled.

“Darlin’ do you have the key for the lock?”

You nodded quickly, striding over to your beside table to dig for the key in one of the drawers. Once found, you hurriedly locked the door with a simple click.

Upon hearing the sound Billy instantly grabbed your hips and pushed you up against the door. You dropped the key onto the ground, not caring where it ended up. You just wanted Billy right now.

You felt Billy’s bulge pressed into you, making you gasp. By no means were you a virgin- but you weren’t used to this.

“Fuck doll…” Billy rasped. “I don’t know how respectable I can be to you right now..” His grip on your hips tightened. Billy was restraining himself. Even though all he wanted to do right now was to tear off every piece of lacy cloth you were wearing he was holding himself back. You snaked your hands up to place themselves on his shoulders.

“Don’t hold back- I’m all yours tonight.” Before you could even get the last word out, his lips were on yours. The reassurance was helpful, making Billy feel as if you really wanted this. Which you did. Desperately.

Billy’s lips worked against yours with a roughness you’d never known you’d liked. One of his hands wrapped around your neck, pulling you flush against his lips even more. He tasted sweet, the softness of his mouth making you almost melt into him.

He still had his hat on- which you didn’t mind, you liked it. You soon felt his fingers leave your hips and neck and trail down and move to your back, where the laces of your corset were. His hands moved quickly, untying it with ease. You lifted your arms up and broke the kiss as he pulled it off of you and threw it to the side.

His hands then pulled at your dress as you took his lips back onto yours, unbuttoning and buttons needed and letting it slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. He parted from your lips to look down at the lacy cami and cloth shorts you were left in.

“Darlin’ you're just too much.” He groaned, his hands cupping your ass.

You smirked up at him and moved your hand to slide down one of his suspenders. “Let me see you.”

He complied instantly and started to tear off his clothes. When he lifted his shirt you could help but gasp. He was toned, muscled, scarred, perfect. He threw his shirt to the side and you reached a hand to trace a faint scar on his abdomen.

“Knife fight.” He said softly as he unzipped his pants, loving how curious you were. Your hands felt soft on his body, so gentle.

Your eyes flicked up to his. “You're perfect.” Billy chuckled at this, pulling your body closer to his as his pants fell to the ground.

“You're one to talk. I’ve ain’t never seen anyone as gorgeous as ya..” He reached up to take off his hat, but before he could throw it aside you grabbed it.

“Darlin what-?”

“Shh….” You coaxed, grabbing his hand and leading him to the bed. You pushed him gently to sit, and he immediately complied, liking this side of you. You put on the hat with a giggle and shimmied out of your cotton shorts. Billy’s cock twitched in his underwear at the sight. It felt like you were torturing him, depriving him of the touch he starved for.

Next you slid off your cami, letting your breasts sit nicely on your figure, throwing that to the side as well. You stepped forward and bent down slightly to place a palm on Billy’s bulge. He immediately let out a pained moan. “Your tourturin’ me doll.”

You giggled as you ran your other hand down his shoulder. “I could go even slower.” You teased.

Then unexpectedly Billy grabbed your hips and pulled you onto him, causing your let out a yelp of surprise. Billy immediately places his lips on one of your nipples, kissing and swirling his tongue around the area.

“No fair.” You gasped. His hands ran all over your body, as well as his lips.

Billy let out a chuckle, the voice sending a vibrating feeling through your body. “Another second and I would’ve gone crazy darlin’.”

You melted under his touch, his calloused fingertips adding to the realness of his hands. You pulled your fingers through his hair as he kissed your collarbones.

“I need more.” You whined.

Billy smirked. “And to think you had brushed me off the first time I offered this to you down stairs…..”

“Please-“ You begged again. Billy cupped your ass in response to lift you off of his lap so he could yank down the only fabric of his boxers separating him from your cunt.

You looked down at his cock as you straddled him. It was big, you’d never seen one this big before. You bit your lip, Billy squeezed your hips and kissed your jaw.

“Ready darlin’…” He mumbled against your skin. You nodded and he lifted you up, positioning your body over his throbbing cock. You sunk down letting out a strained moan as he filled you up. You were now sitting entirely on him, stretching out the walls of your soaked cunt.

“Take me s’good.” Billy rasped as you started to grind your hips. One of your hands flew up to hold Billy’s hat that still was placed snug on your head. You were so wet he slid right in, no issue. You slowly began to move up and down with Billy assisting you by lifting your hips.

You tilted your head back, squeezing your eyes shut, still keeping the hat on your head. Breathy moans escaped your lips as you moved. Billy picked up the pace, slamming you harder down onto his cock rhythmically.

“Fuck-“ You whimpered as he let out a groan.

“Ride me so good..” He mumbled. His own head was limp as he moved you faster and faster on his cock. Right now you were perfect. So tight. Molded perfectly for him. Your free hand dug into his shoulder. The nail marks left on him would be deep by the end of this.

You rode him harder as tears prickled in your eyes. Every time he slammed into you your body vibrates with pleasure. The tip of his cock hitting your g-spot with precision.

Billy took one of his hands off your hips and moved it to start massaging circles on your clit, adding to the pleasure. You paused your moment for a moment, not expecting the added stimulation. You head slumped onto Billy’s shoulder, body shaking.

You felt Billy’s mouth brush against your ear. "C' mon darlin’.. I’m almost there… You're doing so well.” He praised.

You gave a weak nod and started to move again, a throaty moan escaping Billy’s lips. With his fingers on your clit and his cock slamming your walls you were in heaven.

“Almost there doll.” He groaned again, kissing your neck as you moved on him, your stamina decreasing by the second. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, a sign that you were getting closer.

“Billy-“ You breathed, arching your back, holding his hat still firm on your head.

“I know darlin’, I know..” He murmured as he closed his eyes and let his mouth fall open. You watched as he came, filling your already overstimulated cunt with his cum. Your orgasm hit you as well, sending your body into a fit of shakiness.

You became still, his cock still throbbing with pleasure as you clung to him, your bodies slick with sweat. Billy brushed some of your hair from your forehead and kissed it.

“I like how you kept my hat on.” Billy smirked, looking down at you. “Suits ya.”

You let out a breathless chuckle. “Thank you.”

You tilted your head up to kiss his soft lips. He seemed so tender now, so gentle.

Finally after a while of kissing you slid off of him, cum dripping down your thighs.

“When can I see you again Y/n?” He drawled, holding your waist so you were still close to him.

“Anytime you want to get your hat back.” You teased.

Billy’s eyebrows raised with amusement. “You keepin’ it?”

You kissed his nose. “It’s mine now.”