#i will never not feel like absolute filth when talking about race | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bucksangel · 4 months ago

Text

run little bunny

pairing: softdark!ceo!bucky x naive!assistant!reader

word count: 8.6k

summary: Being John Walker’s assistant is hard; he’s mean, disrespectful, misogynistic, the whole nine yards. On top of that, he hardly pays you fairly. So, when you’re fired for a mistake you’re sure wasn’t your fault, you’re at risk of being kicked out by your rude roommates. Luckily for you, James Barnes, a wildly successful CEO, has found his way into your life. And he’s going to take such good care of you.

warnings: where do i even start, 18+, minors DNI and i fucking mean it, mild coercion, some of it could be interpreted as stalking, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, sir kink, oral (f receiving), housewife kink, breeding kink, pet names (bunny, darling), dirty talk, dom!bucky and sub!reader, choking, squirting, basically just absolute filth, a little hurt-comfort, reader’s roommates are awful and mean, not john walker friendly but when am i ever

a/n: so this was supposed to just be some quick smut but as always i went overboard, so please enjoy! likes and comments are appreciated, reblogs are even better!

tip jar | main masterlist | ao3 | run little bunny masterlist

Your hands are shaking slightly, your heartbeat races with anxiety, and your leg bounces rapidly. Today is an important day after all, and your boss has made it clear that if you mess up in any way then he’d have to rethink your employment. That sent dread flooding through your body, so you’ve been preparing yourself for the last week to make sure everything for the meeting is perfect.

And, on the technical side, everything is immaculate - mostly due to you staying up until almost midnight each night to polish the presentation. You thought everything was done properly, but when you’d walked into the building that morning your boss was holed up in his office finishing up his portion of the work, so you’d decided to simply email him to let him know that you had arrived.

Everything was perfect. But when you get into the meeting room, your boss’ eyes go wide, anger clouding them while he scowls. You quickly make your way to his side, only for him to bark out a command for you to grab water for his incoming guests. Placing your notebook on the table, you turn to scurry off to the side to grab the glasses, but you’re stopped when your boss grabs your arm harshly.

“Do you have a change of clothes?”

“Um… Um, I-“ Your boss raises an eyebrow, and you feel like you might throw up from the sudden anxiety. “No, sir.”

He scoffs, muttering under his breath something about looking “trashy,” before releasing you and allowing you to go to the minibar.

Your arm stings, no doubt sporting a red mark because of how harsh the grip was. You’re also confused because you thought the floral dress you’d chosen was pretty. Sure, it may not be high class, but your boss has never had a problem with it before, but you’re assuming that he’s on edge due to who he’s meeting with.

James Barnes; the most powerful and successful CEO in the entire country. You haven’t met him personally, but from what you hear you know that he’s not someone you want to upset. According to the hushed whispers around the office, he stands at a towering 6’6, tattoos cover his arms and hands, and if he frowns then you better move out of the way.

Would Mr. Barnes be upset with your attire?

You desperately hope not, because you need this job. While you can barely make your rent and utilities, you don’t have any other job lined up, and you’re way too scared to ask for a raise from a man who so clearly disrespects you. For right now, though, you’re stuck.

The oak doors open, and one of the office assistants steps off to the side while holding the door open for several men to walk in. You hear him before you see him. You’ve never heard his voice, but the commanding tone he uses when he addresses your boss lets you know that it must be him.

“Hello, Mr. Walker,” Mr. Barnes greets him, and you can hear your boss stand and greet him as well.

You’re trying your hardest to keep calm while you walk toward the table with a platter holding several glasses of water. You do your best to place them in front of the men without showing how nervous you are.

But when you get to Mr. Barnes, you nearly spill the drink all over the table once you get a whiff of his clearly expensive cologne. Oh, how you’d love to be surrounded by that scent, the woodsy smell almost intimidates you but you’re unsure as to why you don’t mind.

You’ve never done anything even remotely sexual with a man, you’re far too awkward and anxious in a way that isn’t too appealing to many, but for a very brief moment, you wonder what he looks like underneath the black three-piece suit — the prominent veins on his hands insinuates that the rest of his body is probably just as toned. But you’re immediately snapped out of your thoughts by your boss’ harsh voice calling your name.

“Aren’t you going to greet our guests?”

You breathe in sharply, heat flooding your face as you stumble your way through an apology and a polite “Hello, Mr. Barnes.”

You’re about to leave his side when he reaches out to grasp your hand — surprisingly gentle for such a powerful man. With a slight jump, you glance over to your boss who’s staring at you as though you’re becoming a nuisance and should quickly get back to your chair beside his. But you can’t, both because of Mr. Barnes’ hold and the fact that when you look back at the man in front of you his ocean-blue eyes pull you in, and you’re unable to break your gaze.

“And who might you be, darling?” His eyes twinkle with mischief but you’re too blind to see it, you’re too flustered to really focus.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about her, she’s just –”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Mr. Barnes snaps, briefly glancing at your boss and not bothering to hide his smirk when he almost visibly cowers. “Now, darling,” he continues, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “What’s your name?”

You nearly squeak, having to force yourself to tell him your name before he gets upset with your lack of answer.

Mr. Barnes hums, then brings your hand up so he can place a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You flounder for a moment, unsure as to what to make of the compliment. You don’t have much time to overthink it because this meeting has a time limit and you’re sure your boss would prefer to get this over with.

“Th-Thank you, sir.” You’re not sure why, but your voice is breathy because something about that word — sir — just feels right for him, though you’re not sure what it means.

“So polite,” He mumbles to himself, and his eyes seem to grow darker. Finally, he lets you go, shooting you a wink and smirking to himself when you scurry off to sit next to your boss.

The presentation went relatively smoothly — thank God. You don’t know what you would have done if anything went wrong. In fact, Mr. Barnes seemed extremely invested in what you had to say, catching your gaze several times and causing you to stumble over your words a few times, only for your boss to clear his throat and glare at you. Eventually, Mr. Barnes throws him his own glare, silently telling him to shut up, to which your boss finally does.

Once the meeting was declared to be over, you were quick to close your notebook and tuck your pen behind your ear, then you went around the table and started collecting the now-empty glasses. As you’re running around the room trying to clean up, you can feel a powerful gaze boring holes into your body, but you try not to pay it any mind. It’s probably just your boss anyway.

But when you turn away from the desk to finally leave, you bump into Mr. Barnes, your body nearly slamming into his very sturdy chest. His hands shoot to your hips almost immediately, helping to steady yourself.

The warmth of his body pulls you in, but that might also be because Mr. Barnes is literally bringing you closer to his chest by the hold he has on your hips. And that’s when you realize that your hands are clutching his shoulders, but you can’t find it in you to let go.

“What’s the rush?” He asks playfully, his upper lip quirking up in a smirk. “You’re running around like a little bunny.”

“Oh, oh I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes.” You’re not sure why you’re apologizing, you recognize that he’s just teasing, but something in you doesn’t want to disappoint him.

“Mr. Barnes.” He hums, his eyes briefly glancing down to your lips. “I like it when you call me that.”

Now you’re really flustered, your face heats up and you have to do everything in your power not to faint — the way his voice deepens is doing something to you and you don’t know how to handle it.

“I’d like it a lot more if you called me James, though. Can you do that for me, bunny?”

“Ye-Yes, James.” You might have been embarrassed about how quick you were to answer him, but the way he closes his eyes and tightens the hold he has on your body you’re thinking it was the right decision.

Mr. Barnes — James — opens his mouth again, but is interrupted by the door being opened by one of the office assistants, whose eyes immediately go wide in shock. It seems to take a second for her to gather her bearings, but she recovers soon enough.

“Mr. Walker is requesting you,” She tells you, glancing over at James and giving him a nervous smile. “He says you have to file all of the paperwork for the meeting.”

You sigh, you’re tired of having to do everything for your boss only for him to take credit ninety percent of the time. But, it’s what you’re paid to do, so you suck it up.

Looking back to James, you give him a shy smile, reluctantly removing your hands from his shoulders.

“Um, I guess I should go, James.” You’re a little sad, and you don’t quite know why having to leave him and go back to your duties makes you so anxious. It could be because Mr. Walker is mean, or maybe because James makes you feel safe. In reality, it’s probably a mixture of both.

“I guess you should,” He murmurs, removing one of his large hands from your waist so he can cup the back of your neck and pull you closer, only for him to press a lingering kiss on your forehead.

And absolutely no one can blame you for the quiet whimper that leaves your lips, even though you are surprised by your reaction. It doesn’t matter though, because he finally moves back, letting go of you and reaching into the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket so he can pull out what looks like a business card.

“Here,” James says, handing it to you. “In case you ever want to talk, you’re always free to call me.”

“What would we talk about?” Your confusion causes James to chuckle, and he seems amused by your naivety.

“Whatever you want, Bunny. Whether you just want to talk about nonsense or vent about your boss. Doesn’t matter to me as long as I get to hear your beautiful voice.”

With that, he gives you a wink, then turns to the door and leaves, though he does glance back at you. With one final smile, he leaves, and you’re left with a million racing thoughts while standing in the middle of the meeting room.

It took three days for you to finally reach out to James. As soon as you got home that night you ran to your bedroom and added his number to your phone, going so far as to put his business card in your bedside table drawer so you wouldn’t lose it. It just took a little time to gain the courage to actually contact him. After all, what if he was just being friendly? You’ve never met anyone quite like him, so it’s hard to read into his actions.

But today had gone horribly. The café you frequent before work was so busy that you didn’t have time to grab your coffee without being extremely late, the bistro you were demanded to pick up lunch from was closed — and while it wasn’t your fault, Mr. Walker certainly seemed to think it was. Your workload was piled high and by the end of the day, you were on the verge of crying due to the stress and mean comments thrown at you by your boss.

You need a shoulder to lean on and, unfortunately for you, you don’t have anyone else to go to. You’re pretty sure your roommates hate you and only let you live with them because they haven’t found a new roommate yet, you don’t have siblings and your parents are states away, and you have maybe a few friends, but even then the communication is scarce.

You need a shoulder to lean on, and James offered his, so you finally decided to pull up his contact and start a new message. It takes several minutes to figure out what to say, but you eventually settle on something simple.

Hi, James. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Mr. Walker’s assistant. You gave me your number in case I ever wanted to talk.

You hit send and stare down at your phone anxiously as you wait for a reply. A minute goes by, then two, suddenly five, and then you’re starting to regret texting him, what if he doesn’t remember you? What if he’s busy? What if –

Your phone starts ringing, James’ name popping up on the screen and taunting you — almost commanding you to answer.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, bunny,” James says softly, and if you press your ear close enough to your phone you could pretend that he’s right next to you.

“Hi, James. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Your voice is soft and timid, you’d hate to disrupt anything he’s doing.

“Don’t be silly, bunny,” He says, his smile evident in his tone. “I always have time for you.”

“Oh, um. Thank you, sir.” It’s almost indescribable, but you can just make out the soft curse James lets out, followed by some shuffling.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

You’re a little apprehensive, but with James’ gentle encouragement, you’re able to get everything off your chest, complaining about your day and everything that went wrong. Each word spoken feels like weights lifting off of your shoulders, allowing you to breathe easier every time James hums. He doesn’t interrupt you, which you greatly appreciate, and by the time you’re done, you fall backward onto your bed, relieved.

“I’m sorry you had such a bad day, bunny,” James coos with his smooth-as-honey voice, filling your body with warmth and comfort. “A pretty girl like you doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.” That comment floods your face with heat and you shuffle up the bed to lean against the headboard.

“Oh, I - thank you, sir.” There it is again, sir. James exhales slowly as though he’s trying to control himself from doing something he shouldn’t, and part of you is momentarily worried that you’ve upset him somehow. You don’t want to disappoint him.

“What can I do to help?”

What can he do to help? You’re not quite sure, you’re not sad, and you’re not angry, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t need at least a hug right now. But, it would be too imposing to ask, right? There’s no way he would be willing to come over – that is, if your roommates would even allow him over. And he certainly wouldn’t invite a stranger into his house. So, you lie to him.

“Oh – Oh, no, James, I don’t – you don’t have to – it’s fine –”

“Bunny.”

Your mouth promptly closes, taking a deep breath through your nose and exhaling slowly.

“Sorry, James.”

“Don’t be sorry, bunny.” There’s some shuffling in the background as he talks and you can’t help but sigh at how sincere his voice is. “Now, what can I do to help?” And before you can even open your mouth he’s talking again, “Don’t say nothing, because I know there’s something you want.”

You’re silent for a moment, stewing over how to tell him. But, he’ll probably just be empathetic and say something along the lines of ‘I’d hug you if I were there right now’. So, you decide to just spit it out.

“I guess I just want… I just need a hug, I think,” You sigh, feeling a sudden sense of loneliness. It’s hard not having anyone to talk to, to be isolated even from the people you live with, to be put down time and time again, and not have anyone to support you.

“Where are you?” James asks, and you hear some more shuffling in the background, followed by the jingling of what sounds like keys.

“I’m at my apartment,” You say, confused. He couldn’t possibly be coming over, could he?

“Send me your address and I’ll come pick you up, we’ll go out for ice cream,” James says decisively, and you can tell he doesn’t want any protesting. “Bunny,” He says when you don’t say anything. “You need cheering up and I’m here to do just that. Please send me your address.” He speaks gently but once again, he doesn’t seem to want you to argue against it.

“O-Okay, I will.”

“Good, I’ll see you soon, bunny.” When you bid him goodbye, he hangs up, and you’re quick to send him your address, giving him instructions to text you when he arrives so you can meet him out front of the building.

During the next twenty or so minutes you’re practically running around your room trying to make yourself look presentable. You cried all of your makeup off so you opt to just wash the rest of it off, and then you pull your hair back and away from your face. It takes a bit to decide what to wear, after all this is just a friend taking another friend to get ice cream, but this is also James Barnes; he has more wealth than you could possibly imagine. You want to impress him and appear grateful for his friendliness, and looking at least half-decent would achieve that.

Finally, someone knocks on your door, yelling, “Someone’s here for you!”

With a rush of excitement, you grab your phone and wallet and slip on your shoes, then make your way out of your room to the front door where another roommate is standing in front of it, leaning against the frame and giggling at the person.

James.

He looks bored, almost like he’s trying to appear interested but can’t quite muster up the energy to do so. When you approach, he lifts his head, a wide smile crossing his face.

“There’s my little bunny,” He says confidently, completely ignoring your annoyed roommate. “Come on, let’s get you cheered up.”

With that you walk to him, timidly accepting his outstretched hand and letting him gently tug you into the hallway. When you turn around to tell your roommate that you’ll be back later you can’t even get a word out before you see her glaring at you and shutting the door — the click of the lock is audible through the empty hallway.

“Are they always like that?” James asks with a tone that conveys concern.

“Like what?” You know what he’s talking about, but you hate acknowledging it.

“Rude and disrespectful.” He is so blunt that it causes you to look down in embarrassment to avoid his intense gaze.

Yes, you want to say, they’re awful. You want to shout from the rooftops that your roommates are horrible to you, but you’re just too scared to do it.

“Oh – Oh, no, they’re just…” You trail off, peeking up at James to see the disbelief in his eyes. When you look down again, he brings up one of his hands to cup your cheek and guide your head up so you can look at him head-on.

“You don’t need to lie to me, bunny. I want you to trust me.” James sighs, leaning forward and placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Come on,” He squeezes your hand, smiling softly at you as he starts walking you out of the building and to his car.

It doesn’t take long to get to the ice cream shop, only a five-minute drive, and when you get there James keeps the car locked as he gets out so he can circle around to your side and open your door for you.

“Th-Thank you,” You say as you put your hand in James’ outstretched one, letting him guide you out of the car. He keeps his hold on your hand as you walk into the shop, going so far as to thread your fingers together while you wait in line.

The image of your hand encompassed by James’ large tattooed one has your tummy fluttering with butterflies. But, you must have been staring for a little too long because you’re broken out of your trance by James gently squeezing your hand.

“Is this okay, bunny?”

“Yes!” Heat floods your face as soon as you say it, feeling embarrassed by how quick you were to answer. “I, I mean. Um… Yes, it’s okay.”

James smirks at you, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. But, before you can stew in your shame, the man behind the counter says, “Next!”

You walk up to the counter, letting James order before giving yours. And when it’s time to pay, James doesn’t even drop your hand while he fishes his wallet out of his pocket and takes out his card. Your tummy flutters once again.

“Come, bunny.”

With your desserts now in hand, James leads you to a corner booth, only letting go of your hand so you can scoot in. He sits across from you, looking at you with what can only be described as thinly veiled hunger. It’s not off-putting, you just don’t know what it means.

“So, um…” You trail off looking down at your bowl of ice cream, fiddling with the spoon they gave you.

“You don’t need to be nervous, bunny,” James coos, reaching over and placing his hand palm up on the table, and you’re helpless but to take it, practically aching to feel his warmth again. “Now, other than everything that happened today, how have you been?”

It’s surprisingly easy to fall into a pleasant conversation with him, he asks questions and lets you finish talking before adding his own input, and he doesn’t break eye contact. It feels like he’s really listening to what you’re saying, and it’s almost freeing to have someone in your corner, someone you can trust and depend on.

What feels like far too soon, though has probably been several hours due to how dark it is outside, the man behind the counter comes to your table to tell you that they’re closing soon, and you can’t help but be sad. You’re enjoying James’ company far more than you probably should since you’ve only known him for a handful of days. It almost seems like you’ve known him your whole life.

“Well, bunny. I guess it’s time to go,” James says remorsefully, getting up out of the booth and reaching out his hand to help you out of the booth as well. He keeps holding your hand while you walk out of the door — making sure to throw away your trash on the way out.

James insists on opening the car door for you again — ever the gentleman. There’s a comfortable silence on the drive back to your apartment, your stomach swirling the entire time because James refuses to drop your hand. But when you get to your apartment building, a small amount of anxiety settles inside you, and you’re desperately hoping your roommates are asleep because you don’t feel like dealing with them after you’ve had such a good evening.

The silence is a little more tense while you ride the elevator up to your floor, but you’re grounded by James’ touch. It’s not until you get to your front door that you really look at him, staring into his twinkling eyes. And when he smiles, it settles your nerves.

“I guess this is the end of our night, bunny,” He says, squeezing your hand one last time before dropping it. Before you can mourn the loss of his touch he’s wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close to his chest, and you desperately hope he doesn’t hear the squeak you let out. You wrap your arms around his waist, letting James tuck your face into his neck while he holds you close.

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” James murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“Me too,” You say softly, breathing in and inhaling his comforting scent. “Thank you for cheering me up.”

“Of course, bunny. I’m always here for you.” Then, James pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Always.”

You can’t help but smile. His gaze is hypnotizing, pulling you in and almost refusing to let you go.

“Thank you, James,” You breathe out, and one last time, James squeezes you and kisses your forehead, then steps back.

“I’ll talk to you soon, bunny?” James asks, smiling wide.

“Y–Yeah, I’ll text you. Or you can text me. Or call, that’s–that’s fine too.” Heat floods your face in embarrassment, but you don’t feel too bad about it because James only smiles wider, nodding once.

“I will.”

“Goodnight, James.” With that, you turn and unlock your door, turning around to look at James one last time as you shut the door.

“Goodnight bunny, I hope you have dreams as sweet as you are.” James winks, and you swear you can hear him chuckle when you squeak out an “o-okay,” and shut the door.

And maybe James is some kind of wizard because you have the best night of sleep you’ve had in a while.

For the next few weeks you and James text almost every day, and talk on the phone every couple of days. You’ve met up with him a few times as well, accepting his invitations to lunch or coffee. Each outing would last for several hours, too enraptured by his… everything to be the one to suggest the night should end. You’ve come to trust him, you know with a possibly concerning amount of certainty that James would do everything possible to keep you happy and safe.

Roughly a month and a half after meeting James, you’re sitting on your bed in the same position you were in when you first called him crying. Unlike last time, though, you don’t hesitate to call him. He’s told you time and time again that it doesn’t even matter if he’s in a meeting, he’ll always make time for you. You just hope that’s true.

He picks up almost immediately.

“Hello, bunny,” James says with the same soft tone he always uses when talking to you.

“H-hi, James,” You manage to say, before breaking out into sobs. You’re nearly hyperventilating, trying and failing to catch your breath between hiccups, and it takes a few minutes to calm down enough to hear rustling in the background on James’ end.

“Are you at home?” He asks with the utmost concern.

“Ye-Yes.”

“Stay there,” He says, using what you’ve deemed his CEO voice. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Ja–”

“Bunny.”

You sigh, knowing you can’t change his mind – not that you really want him to. You could really benefit from a hug right about now and James always provides the best ones.

“Can you at least stay on the phone with me?” Your voice is small, still sniffling every few words. You don’t think you could handle being alone with your own thoughts right now.

“Of course. You know I’ll do anything for you.”

It takes James twenty minutes to get to you, and he talks to you the whole time, just menial things to get your mind off of your sadness. When he lets you know that he’s at your apartment, you don’t even wait for him to tell you he’s coming up, you simply grab your jacket and slip on your shoes, then run to the front door without so much as a word to your roommates in the living room.

“James!” Upon seeing the man himself standing next to his car, you fling yourself into his arms, taking deep breaths to prevent yourself from crying in public. “Thank you for coming.”

“Bunny, how many times do I have to tell you that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep a smile on your pretty face?” James’ tone is teasing, but you know he’s serious if his stern and concerned gaze is anything to go by.

You nod, blinking back tears. It’s so nice to have a friend like James Barnes; kind, chivalrous, attentive. With the way he acts sometimes, you’d almost think he’s interested in more than friendship, but you always shake that thought off. He’s too handsome and wealthy to date some random personal assistant who’s barely able to make her rent.

“Come on, bunny,” James moves back but keeps an arm wrapped around your waist, leading you to his car and helping you in. Like always, he waits for you to sit so he can strap you in your seatbelt, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before shutting the door then running around to the driver's seat.

This time, instead of taking a left at the light at the end of your block, he keeps going forward, taking turns until you’re not exactly sure where you are.

“Um, where are we going?”

“My house,” James says casually, briefly glancing at you so he can give you that ever-soft smile.

“But, isn’t your house only twenty minutes away?” You’re confused, and a little curious as to what he’s talking about.

“I only stay there when I have meetings in the city. I have a house a little further out where I live most of the time. It’s a little more lived-in, so I want to bring you there where you’ll feel a little more…” James pauses for a moment, glancing at you again. “At home.” His explanation makes sense in your brain, quickly squashing any nerves that you had. He’s rich, so of course he’d have multiple houses.

It’s almost an hour long drive to get to his house. Well, house feels like an inappropriate term for what it actually is. It’s more like a mansion, standing tall at three stories, a long driveway with trees lining either side of the road, and a luscious garden surrounding the property.

James helps you out of the car and guides you up the steps to the front door, where he unlocks it and lets you step inside. The moment you pass through the threshold your jaw nearly drops to the floor; a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling right when you step in and beautiful artwork adorns the walls. The open floor plan gives you a good view of the living room and kitchen from your vantage point, and you can’t wait to sink into the luxurious and almost comically large couch in front of the TV.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” James urges you further in, bringing you to the living room.

“Um, just water is fine.” You look up at him, smiling shyly and nearly tripping when he smiles back.

“I’ll be right back,” James says, watching as you sit and sink into the plush couch. “Make yourself at home.” The look in his eyes when he says it sparks something inside you, something warm and fuzzy. Thinking of James’ house as your home makes your tummy flutter, but you don’t understand why.

God, you need to get it together.

You’re left alone for a moment, and everything is quiet except for the fridge opening and the glasses clinking. James’ absence allows you a moment to breathe properly, being with him always leaves you flustered, though you can’t deny that some part of you likes it. You like his commanding nature, how deep his voice gets when he talks passionately about something, how warm his embrace is when he holds you for what might be a little too long, squeezing you like he doesn’t want to let you go.

“Here you go, bunny.” Suddenly, a glass of water appears in front of you, and you take it with a gracious smile and a small “thank you.”

“So,” He says, sitting next to you — really close — and throwing his arm over your shoulders, practically pulling you into his lap. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Tears immediately spring to your eyes, suddenly remembering how horrible today was. You force yourself to take a couple of sips of your glass but your hand starts shaking enough to where James takes your glass and sets it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Bunny—“

His soft voice causes you to start crying, throwing yourself into his chest and burying your face in his neck as you sob out your troubles. James’ hand is warm on your back, rubbing it soothingly and squeezing you close to him. This time, he actually pulls you in his lap, you’re grasping the front of his sweater while he maneuvers your body so you’re straddling his thighs, and you can’t help but scoot closer so you’re sitting on him properly with your body flush against his.

A few minutes of crying later and your tears have finally slowed, your sobs deforming into hiccups until you calm down enough to hear James cooing into your ear, whispering sweet nothings. When you finally catch your breath, you pull back, staring up at James with wide eyes and a pout.

“I-I… I was fired! Fired! And I don’t know what I’m going to do! Mr. Walker just tossed me to the side because a document went missing and he blamed me, and now I’m jobless and my roommates are definitely going to kick me out because I can barely make my rent as it is. What am I going to do?”

James sighs, rubbing one hand up and down your back and keeping his other on your waist, though they manage to sneak up your shirt a little without your notice.

“I’m sorry, bunny,” He starts, giving you a comforting smile. “It’s awful that happened to you, and it’s not your fault, so don’t go blaming yourself like I know you want to.”

Your face goes warm with embarrassment. How is he able to read you so easily?

“And as far as your living situation, you’ll move in with me.”

“James!” Your eyebrows furrow, your head automatically shaking. “No, no I can’t do that to you. I don’t have a job anymore and I definitely can’t afford to pay you rent, I-I can’t burden you like that.” Even though it hurts to say it, you want to be honest with him. Because how on Earth are you supposed to pay him back for this?

“You’re not a burden.” You’re surprised by his angry tone, and his eyes darken as though he’s challenging you to say otherwise. “You’ll never be a burden on me, bunny. I’m offering you this, I don’t want you to pay me.”

As though he can sense your hesitation, he gives you a playful smirk.

“But if you really want to help, how about you do the cooking and cleaning? I don’t always get a good home-cooked meal, and it’d be nice to come back from work to see you in a cute little apron.”

This makes you giggle, a weight lifting off your shoulders when you nod timidly. “I-I can do that. I’ll do anything.”

And while you had pure intentions with that statement, James takes it differently, his eyes darkening even further as he nibbles at his bottom lip.

“Anything?” He smirks wider when you nod eagerly because that’s what you are. Always eager to please — especially please James.

“Yes, anything!”

James hums, seemingly thinking something over, before sliding one of his hands up the back of your shirt.

“How about you give me a kiss? I haven’t had a good one in a while,” While he sounds like he’s teasing, his face shows he’s anything but.

He really wants you to kiss him. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to deny him, you’re too grateful for his generosity. Plus, you’d be insane to pass up such an opportunity, he’s handsome, kind, and makes you feel safe. So, with only a little hesitation, you lean down and press your lips against his in a simple peck, but before you can pull away James groans, placing one hand on the back of your head to keep you steady.

His lips practically attack yours, his tongue invading your mouth and taking what it wants – you. You don’t even know it but you’re whimpering almost immediately, opening your mouth and letting James consume you whole. He’s smiling against your lips, biting your bottom lip as he retreats for a moment so he can stare up into your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful, bunny,” James whispers reverently like he’s hypnotized. And he’s not the only one. Your brain is quickly going silent, your sole focus is on James and how good he’s making you feel.

“Really?”

“So beautiful, I’ve always thought so.” His confession makes you whine, he thinks you’re beautiful, this gorgeous man with the deepest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Suddenly, James curses softly, grabbing your waist under your shirt, and that’s when you realize you’ve started subconsciously moving your hips against his.

“S-Sorry,” You mumble, though you’re not too sorry considering you can’t stop rolling down onto his lap, it feels too good.

“Don’t be.” James hums thoughtfully, leaning forward slightly and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Why don’t we go to my room? It’ll be more comfortable.”

You don’t even wait for him to finish before you start eagerly nodding your head, adjusting your legs as he stands so you can wrap them around his waist. He carries you to his room, smirking to himself the entire time because you can’t stop kissing and biting his neck in the hopes of leaving a mark, staking your claim. When you finally get there, James quickly shuts the door behind him and then drops you down onto the bed.

“Sir,” You whine when he doesn’t do anything, he’s only standing at the end of the bed, staring at you with eyes so dark with lust that you can’t see the blue of them.

“Don’t worry, bunny, I’ll take good care of you.” With that, he swiftly strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side, then undoes the button on his pants, slowly dragging down the zipper with a wide smirk at the haze in your eyes. “Do you want to help me?”

It takes a few moments for you to understand what he’s asking of you, but once you do you push yourself up, shuffling over to him until you’re sitting with your legs underneath your butt. For a moment you’re not sure what to do, you reach out for his pants but freeze mid-air because you just now realize that you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. You’ve never been in this situation before, your sexual exploits consist of goodnight kisses on the few dates you’ve been on, and your vibrator in your nightstand that has been working overtime ever since you met James.

“I-I’m sorry,” You murmur, embarrassment flooding your features.

“Why are you sorry, bunny?” James’ voice is soft, soothing your worries.

“I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never… been with a man before.” Your hands fall to your lap at the same time you hang your head. What if you disappoint him? You don’t know what you’re doing and you’d hate to mess anything up.

“I know, bunny. It’s okay.” James lifts your chin with his fore and middle fingers, guiding you to look at him again. “I’ll teach you everything.” His voice dips lower, his bottom lip getting trapped between his teeth when you smile, relieved.

“Now, I’m going to take off my pants, but I want you to take off my boxers. Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” You say quickly, eyes dropping to his crotch as he begins pulling the denim down, down, down until it pools on the floor. He steps out of them, then steps in front of you with his arms hanging by his side. When he raises his eyebrow, nodding to his underwear, you reach out for him again, this time with only a small amount of hesitation. Your nerves are nearly off the charts, but knowing that James is going to guide you makes you feel better.

Your hands are shaking slightly when you pull them down, and absolutely no one can fault you for the loud gasp you let out when he’s finally bare because holy shit. Despite being relatively anxious and naive surrounding sex, you’ve watched your fair share of porn, and while the men in them did usually have big dicks, they seem small compared to James’.

You’re almost frightened, how the hell is that going to fit inside you? James chuckles, and you realize you probably said that aloud.

“Don’t worry, bunny. I’ll make it fit,” James groans, reaching down to grab the bottom of your shirt. “I’m going to take this off now, okay?” He tugs it up and over your head once you give your consent, tossing it to the side and cursing when he sees the light pink bra barely covering your breasts. James is biting his lip so hard you’re worried he might draw blood, but you don’t pay it any mind because he’s soon urging you to lay on your back with your legs dangling over the edge.

“Gonna take these off too.”

Giving him a shy smile and a nod, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweatpants, glancing up at you one final time to make sure you’re okay before he surprises you by pulling them off of your legs in one swift movement. You’re tugged down the bed a little, a shocked gasp leaving your lips.

“Fucking angelic,” James murmurs, dropping to his knees and placing his large, rough hands on your knees. He smirks when he sees your matching light pink panties, already soaking wet at the crotch. You have to bite your lip to keep from whimpering when he pushes your legs wide apart, but you can’t stop yourself from squirming when he doesn’t do anything else.

“James,” You whine, high-pitched and needy.

“Sir,” He reminds you with a raised eyebrow as though he’s daring you to say his real name again. And just for good measure, he surprises you by lifting up one of his hands and swinging it down onto your clothed pussy in a harsh swat, causing you to let out a loud moan.

“Sir! I-I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s okay, little bunny,” James coos as he runs his hands up the back of your thighs so he can push them up and out, letting him get a good look at where you need him most. “Are you going to let me eat your pretty pussy?”

Even though it’s phrased as a question, you know James isn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. It’s not like you even want to tell him ‘no’, you’re too desperate for something, anything.

“Y-Yes, sir. Please.” Your begging makes him groan, and he quickly dips forward so he’s not even an inch away from your core, inhaling deeply and cursing again.

With a quick kiss to your covered clit, he twists his fingers into the band of your panties and rips them into pieces, and you know you’ll have marks from it. But you want them, you want evidence of this night, and you’ll gladly take anything he gives you. And no sooner than your panties off do James dive in, inhaling once more before his tongue sneaks out and licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit.

It’s at that point that you know you’re well and truly fucked, because there’s no way you’re not going to become addicted to the feeling of his tongue dipping into your quivering hole, the way he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it into his mouth, the way he groans into your pussy like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

And it doesn’t take long for your legs to start shaking, desperately trying to close around James’ head but not being able to due to his hands gripping your thighs and holding them still. The filthy groans he lets out are enough to make you cum alone, but then he attaches his lips to your clit again and gently bites down, forcing an obscene moan out of your mouth.

He lets you get used to the pleasure, switching between fucking his tongue deep inside you and flicking at your clit, and only when he decides you’re ready does he manage to slide his forefinger in your pussy all the way to the third knuckle.

“Sir!” You can’t help but yell. Yes, it stings, but it’s far outweighed by the pleasure of his tongue assaulting your pulsating nub.

He wastes no time in slowly sliding it in and out, wiggling it around until you whine loudly, letting him know he’s found that special spot. You’re too out of it to realize it but James is smiling, clearly smug at how he’s making you react. You wouldn’t care anyway, in fact, he deserves it. He’s making you feel too good, especially when he slips in his middle finger and spreads them.

“Oh god! Yes, fuck. Sir, yes,” You’re incoherent, blabbering nonsense because your brain is too foggy to form a coherent thought. James picks up the pace, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking it as he thrusts his fingers directly at your g-spot.

“Sir! Sir, I-I’m…” As soon as he started, he stopped, pulling out his fingers and leaning back slightly with a wide grin. His chin is coated in your juices, and the gleam in his eyes shows you that you’re not going to be able to cum so easily.

“Not yet, bunny,” James says when you whine pathetically, trying to buck your hips up into his mouth but unable to do so because of his commanding grip now holding your waist. “I’m not letting you cum until I’m inside you.”

James then climbs onto the bed, guiding you upwards to lay your head against the plush pillows so he can lean over your body. With little preamble, he snakes his arms around your back to quickly unclasp your bra and allow your breasts to spill free.

“I can’t wait to watch these bounce,” James groans, palming one of them, twisting and pinching at your nipple. James just laughs when you hiss, because your soaked pussy is enough to tell him that you’re loving what he’s doing.

“Bunny.” He says gruffly, and your eyes shoot up to meet his, though you can hardly see him because your vision is hazy, nothing matters except James. “Are you ready?”

You’re barely able to mumble ‘yes’, but you manage to do so, and James takes that as his cue to grasp the base of his cock and position it at your entrance. He places his other hand on your neck, lightly squeezing the sides to keep your eyes locked on his.

The pressure against your hole is immense, James telling you to breathe as he slowly pushes deeper. He stops about halfway through, giving you a moment for the pain to fade. He’s clearly having a hard time staying still but is cognizant enough to know you’re overwhelmed. It takes a few minutes of deep breathing before you finally nod, silently letting him know that he can move. And he does, pushing in all the way until his hips are flush with yours. Once again, he stills, leaning down to brush his lips over your cheeks and catch the tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

“H-Hurts, sir,” You whimper out, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with him. And while your core is burning, James looks so damn proud that you’re taking him that it pushes away any discomfort.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Even though you’re in mild pain you’re pretty sure you’ll cry if he pulls out, you need everything he can give you. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, bunny,” James coos, then tightens his grip around your neck ever so slightly. “I’ll give you what you need.” And as though a switch was flipped, James pulls back, pausing for half a second before thrusting forward.

“Ahhh!” Your mouth drops open as you scream, your arms coming up to claw at James’ shoulders and back as he gives you all he has.

And he has a lot to give. He puts his back into fucking you, keeping one hand around your neck and using his other arm to pull your left leg over his shoulder. Sweat beads at your hairline, your eyes stinging with tears, your whole body lit on fire. At this moment, nothing matters except the delicious burn between your legs, the way your body is shoved further up the bed with each of James’ powerful thrusts until it gets to the point where he has to place the hand around your leg on the headboard to steady you.

“Fuck, bunny, you feel so good. You’re so good for me.” James can’t stop mumbling praises, and even though you can’t really hear them, you feel them. Your eyes don’t move from his, even as he glances down to where your bodies are joined. “Fuck, little bunny. Your pussy looks so good stuffed full of my cock, knew you’d take me so well.”

“S-Sir,” You whimper, bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts and digging your nails into his skin. But James doesn’t seem to mind if the way his whole body shudders and his hips slightly lose their rhythm is anything to go by.

“Are you gonna be a good little bunny and cum for me?” James moves his gaze back up to your face, chuckling when he sees how fucked-out you already are. Despite his hand still around your neck you manage to nod, little cries and whines escaping into the air every time James’ cock gets shoved against your cervix.

“Yeah, you are,” James continues, leaning over your body even more and shifting so the tip of his dick hits your spot with every thrust. “You’re going to squirt all over my cock so I can cum deep in your cunt. Gonna cum in you every day, keep you full of me, maybe even plug you up to make sure it sticks.”

You’re right there, your pleasure climbing higher and higher until you’re ready to fall off the edge. James’s next sentence sends you there.

“Fuck, bunny. You’re going to be the perfect little mommy to all the children I’m gonna give you.”

When you wake up, James will tell you about how you came so hard that you blacked out, squirting and gushing around his cock while he continued telling you how even more beautiful you’ll be when you’re pregnant, taking care of him and his home, how he knew you were the one for him from the moment he first saw you. Your things will already be moved into his house. New clothes chosen specifically for you will be hung up in his closet and the bathroom will be adjusted to fit your products. The kitchen is going to be filled with all the food you like. And your cat will be curled up in a miniature hammock in her very own room.

When you wake up, you’ll see how much thought James put into redecorating his home just for you.

And you’ll be too grateful for his kindness to question where he put your birth control.

main taglist: @lilyalone / @crazyunsexycool / @goldylions / @yeehawbrothers / @buckyssweetheart / @buckysprettybaby / @sushiseoks / @heytheredelulu / @somnorvos / @ozwriterchick / @pxgeturner / @gentlelimerence

bucky taglist: @justsebstan / @myfavbuckyfics

#let me know what yall think!!#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic rec #james barnes #james barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky barnes #ceo!bucky barnes #ceo!bucky #dark!bucky #james barns #bucky barns #bucky barns imagine #my writing #my stuff

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winterarmyy · 2 years ago

Text

Plot Twist | Part III*

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III* (end) | Extra

Words: 4.8k++ (of mostly filth)

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, lots and lots of praises, bucky's filthy mouth, tiny hint of wife!kink from bucky, soft!bucky being romantic, fluffy date, reader is quite a menace at the end, honestly.

A/N: This is the last chapter because I didn't really have a long plot for this specific fic. I wrote this fic entirely out of impulse.

P/S: I have no idea what I just wrote for the smut scene; partially because english is not my first language and the rest is because I literally have no experience but I hope y'all enjoy it somehow!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

"Don't hide those noises from me, doll. I want to hear you." Bucky licked a strip up across her gushing pussy before lewdly suckling on her sensitive clit.

"Bucky." she whined so needily as if she hadn't just come on his tongue a few moments ago.

How did they even get here in the first place?

One minute Bucky was proposing to ditch the gala, that's when she decided to bring him to one of the most underrated diners in Brooklyn.

Then somehow, there was Bucky, eating her out as if he was still starving.

"Oh my, Irene is that you?" The way the old lady gasped with excitement as she walked towards the couple; Bucky was assuming she was indeed talking to his wife.

Y/N grinned with a tiny scrunch on her nose, a goofy smile that Bucky never seen before. Entranced, he didn't even notice how his heartbeats quickens, let alone process the fact that Irene was not his wife's name.

"Long time no see, Maria." Y/N didn't hesitate to be engulfed by the warm and welcoming hug from Maria as if she was one of her grandchildren.

The tight squeeze loosen up after a while, followed by a compliment, "You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart." By the way she was looking up and down at Y/N, it seems like she doesn't want to move on from the topic.

But swiftly, a frown formed on her forehead when she realizes, "But why are you having a date at my old rackety diner?" Maria was quick to read the room.

Well, it's not that hard when you see a gorgeous, well-dressed couple walk in together. Him opening the door for her, the shy smile on her lips, any excuse to have his hands on her, glimmer in those eyes of hers.

Of course, it was a date.

"Now, why would I trade some fancy overprized steak with your absolute perfection of a burger? God don't get started on those crispy fries. I've been craving them for weeks!" Y/N could feel her mouth-watering from her own imagination.

"Oh, stop it! You're exaggerating!" Maria chuckles, lightly taping the side of Y/N's shoulder.

"I certainly am not!" Y/N exclaimed, almost animatedly.

The conversation in front of Bucky seemed to be silenced by his own racing thoughts.

Bucky was certain that these past few months being married to Y/N, he already knew her. All her patterns were memorized in the back of his head.

But this was different. It doesn't look like her; at least not the look that she always displayed around their mansion, nor any events they went to.

However, it feels so much like her at the same time.

If she still has other sides and expressions hidden from him, then wanted to see them all.

His hearing started to regain its ability when Y/N spoke, "This is my date, Sebastian. Babe, this is Maria, the owner of this diner." She introduces them.

Bucky leaned forward as he offered his hand, only to be pulled into the similar hug that his wife just received. Maybe he let his guard down, or maybe Maria was just stronger than him to be able to pull him in like that.

"I heard so much about you and this place. Thought nice to bring Irene to her favourite place for a date." Bucky was partially lying. He did promise her that she could choose anywhere she wanted to go to, but at the same time he had no idea this place existed before.

Maria had an approving smile on her face, as if he ticked off several of her checklist for choosing Y/N's boyfriend. She shot a look at Y/N, showing her approval which only made Y/N rolled her eyes.

When they settled in their booth and their orders taken, Bucky started to come up with the first topic, "So, Irene..." he purposely slowed his pace, as if he knew that Y/N would burst into laughter. A triumph smirk curved across his lips, knowing he managed to pull one of her rare laughs.

"...I just wanted to say that I, Sebastian, am honoured to be able to take you on a date this lovely evening." He managed to sound effortlessly posh while saying it, which makes Y/N laugh even more so.

"Oh god, stop, Bucky. It's just us. You don't need to act anymore." Her eyes briefly pointed to their surroundings. Indeed, there was just them and a group of teenagers all the way across the diner.

Bucky chuckled, "Well the way you act just now makes me think you me to stay in character."

"I didn't know that my wife had different identities. Wanna tell me about it?"

Y/N hesitated at first, she wonders if Bucky can accept what she had to say about this, but the anticipation and curiosity in his face seemed to look like he was sincere.

She took a deep breath before letting out a sigh and explained, "People like us can't just go out and about with our family names attached on our faces. We'd be sticking out like a sore thumb."

Bucky thought of what she said for a bit before he asked, "And you hate that? Having my name as part of your identity?" His brow quirked.

She exhaled deeply, "No, I didn't mean it like that, Bucky."

Her hesitation after only urged Bucky to silently demand for further explanation.

She admit defeat as she spoke, "Let's be real our lives are not ordinary. We weren't born in normal society like these people do." Y/N gaze roamed around the few people within the diner. There was this longing in her eyes.

"And I just want to feel what is it like to be one of them. To able to bond other people without greed or malice behind their intentions." There was only truth in her gaze, and Bucky saw that.

"I-- it's like an escape for me. A breath of fresh air if you will." She expressed.

"Like your books? Are they your escape too?" Bucky asked after thinking about how many hours she spent reading.

A fond smile curved on her lips, "Precisely."

He thought deeply before asking, "If you're constantly trying to escape, then what is it that you are trying to run from?" he riddled.

Y/N leaned back to her seat and think of the best way to put her feelings in simple words, "Nothing. I guess that I haven't find something that make me wanna stay in this reality."

"Yet" Bucky didn't mean to say it out loud. It was supposed to be his personal thoughts, but Y/N's eyes unexpectedly lit up, "Yet." She repeated his word, with a hopeful tone behind her natural voice.

The prolonged eye-contact broke when Maria came to serve their food. The conversation after that was nothing too deep, nothing too general. It was the type of conversation that left a light-hearted residue within their chest.

Hours passed and the music resonating from the jukebox seemed to shift into something slow, something more ballad-like. Bucky had an idea. He stood on his feet and walk out of their space while straightening his jacket.

Y/N was confused at first, "Are we leaving already?" was what she thought of before Bucky spoke, "A dance, my dear?"

She trailed the hand that was outreaching towards her, then up to his face. His smile was charming, and the crinkled lines on the side of his eyes were even more endearing.

Who'd knew those small things could become one her little weaknesses. She accepted his offer by grasping on his hand while he gracefully pulled her out of their booth towards the empty space between rows tables and the jukebox.

Bucky pulled her in, even closer than deemed necessary. She followed his lead; fingers laced lightly with each other's. His other hand rests right above her backside. And hers on one of his shoulders.

Though both of them didn't have a clue on how to dance but it didn't stop them to naturally fall into step and let the rhythm control their movements.

Everything else around them; the diner, the people, seemed to dissolve with time. It felt like there was just him and her, alone. Only the sounds of their heart beats and the music that remained.

People in the diner sat on their seats; watching the couple swayed along the melody of the song; couldn't help to admire the sight in front of them.

Even the bunch of teenagers on the other side was suddenly intrigued, some of them gawked and squealed at them, others didn't waste any time and started pull out their phone to record the moment.

Bucky leaned in as he whispered her name. She looked up in respond, with a smile spread across her beautiful face and eyes curved into upside down crescent moons.

A storm of uncontrollable emotions surged throughout Bucky's body, and his nerves tingled in delight. His brought his hand towards her face and brushed his thumb across her cheek.

His body was acting on its own as all the restrains he locked himself before vanished into thin air. Nothing was holding him back from this slice of paradise.

Her eyes glistened the moment Bucky's thumb pressed against her soft lips. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. Do you know that?" He whispered. His eyes searched her features as if he can't believe that his wife was real.

Her lips parted as a laugh escaped through her mouth; it seems to be that she doesn't believe him. Though the truth was clear, and yet somehow she couldn't see it.

"I'm serious, doll. You don't know how gorgeous you look right now." Her cheeks deepen in the colour of rose.

Bucky drew her close to his chest, so close he could feel the warmth of her body; while she wrapped her arms around his neck, tip toe-ing towards the side of his face. He could smell the delicate perfume on her.

Her lips went to his ear as she whispered ever so softly. "And you're such a flirt, do you know that?"

She returned to her original position, looking up with mischief gleaming in her eyes. Whatever spell did she just put on Bucky in that very moment, it certainly work wonders as all he can think about is how her lips feels against his own.

Bucky looked like as if he was in a daze, lips slightly parted, his gaze soften as they fixated on her maroon painted lips.

Y/N seemed to pick up on what's going to happen. Her hands trembled in anticipation; his scent was alluring, almost intoxicating that she might recall this moment whenever she smell this cologne again.

The moment seemed to prolonged but then it feels like the time stops entirely when Bucky pressed his lips on hers. The kiss was delicate, and soft, and passionate and real all at the same time.

Bucky pulled away momentarily only to pull her close again by the back her neck, tilting the heads in opposite direction as he licked her lips for permission in which she gladly comply.

Her hands gripping on the fabric of his shirt that's rested on his chest, holding on to him for her dear life as he stole her breath away.

Soft moans were slipping through the kiss as she felt the delicious burn of his stumble on her skin. Little did she know that, that might just be one of a trigger for Bucky to lose control.

He grunted in disapproval when she pulled away, wanting nothing more than to kiss her again and again and again until both of them forgot how to even breath.

But looking down at her trembling lips, the glaze across her eyes, her shaky breath; Bucky might just turn feral right there and then.

"Bucky..."

Bucky swore that she was whining his name.

"...Take me home."

Which then leads to this very moment where Bucky grabbed her by the waist, pushing her cunt further on his tongue before wrapping his arms around her thighs.

He wants to make sure she's strapped in for another wave that's about to crush her.

He flicked his tongue in an up and down motion, gliding through sensitive bundle of nerves. As if he knew what she like. No, he knows exactly what makes her squirm.

It took him a few orgasms on his tongue to know that she loves those small circles over her clit, those flat licks when he spread her pussy apart, how she much prefer to have her clit played rather than her hole fucked by his fingers, all of the little notes were already buried in Bucky's head.

And oh how divine does she look when she came for him. Bucky couldn't take his eyes off her; he was already addicted her taste, the shudders of her thighs on the sides of his face, and her pretty voice moaning his name.

Why hasn't he done this earlier?

"It's been too long, doll. Should've claimed this gorgeous pussy long ago. Shit." He growled his desire before diving back to her leaking heat.

Wet vulgar sounds echoes within the enclosed space of their bedroom as he devoured her whole. His changing speed really was too much for her to handle, and him gripping onto her thighs was the right choice.

Especially, when she started to squirm upwards, "Oh god Bucky,," moaning as she threw her head back to the soft pillow under her head.

Smirking proud against her parted lips, he pulled her back where she was before, pinning her hips against the bed. He sucks her aching bud into his hot, wet mouth so ferociously she can only gasp to the immense pleasure.

Oh, does it feel good having his mouth wrapping around her pussy like this, while the tip of his dangerous tongue flicking mercilessly on her swollen bundle of nerves.

So good to the point she was seeing stars. Literal stars at the back of her head as her high was reaching for euphoria. The aching pleasure caused her toes to curl and thighs burning, shaking as she cried out his name.

But, he wasn't satisfied yet, insatiably greedy for more, "So sweet, baby. Come on give it to me." He growled against her.

He continued to abuse that cunt over and over as the shameless wailing and chanting of how bad she wanted to come, filling up not just the room but also his pride.

Bucky wants to make her feel each stroke and glide of his wicked, delicious tongue. Feeling the electrifying pleasure surging within her core, her thighs involuntarily started closing around his head.

He can barely breathe from how much she was suffocating him, but he certainly refused to stop.

Not until he ruined that needy cunt of hers.

Over and over, he sucks and pulls while his tongue danced through her until her sanity was close to breaking, body trembling in his hold.

The wet squelches, the lapping of his tongue, her sexy moans. He drowned himself to every single one of them.

"Fuck! Bucky, I'm coming. Please, please please don't stop!" She begged for his mercy even if he never asked for it.

Her moan was getting needier than ever, while her hips jerked upwards to meet his tongue. Her fingers gripping on his soft hair, guiding his through the sweet torturous pace.

Fortunately, she wasn't the only one who was close to an explosive high. Bucky's cock, hard and pulsing, twitched against the constraint of his boxer. Even without any simulation from any kind of touch, his cock was more than overjoyed to come along with her.

And it was all because of her.

From the way she was shamelessly humping against his mouth, using him to get herself off. Gripping and pulling his hair, so she could ride his tongue faster.

Bucky hummed against her clit, before chuckling, "You're already such a good girl, doll. So perfect. You taste..." his tongue licked through her folds, grazing on the throbbing clit. "...Perfect."

A whisper of his name escaped as she gasped into a back arching shudder, head thrown back, eyes rolling, unable to focus on anything other than the pleasure of his tongue.

"Do it." he growled out. "Come for me, baby. Make a mess on my tongue."

That command was all it supposed to take, for her to finally let go but feeling his tongue flicking against her clit was what ripped the orgasm right from her begging pussy.

A loud scream of curses of his name was the only thing she can utter once the orgasm washed over. She let the pleasure unravel from within to every part of her shivering body, until she was left limping on the bed.

"Gorgeous..." he grunted with a horny tone, tongue sliding in between her wet slit, making sure every lick managed to collect the sweet nectar she had bestowed him.

Finally pulling away from between her legs, the lower half of Bucky's face was drenched; his lips glistened with the mixture of spit and slick, dripping down along the chin, down to his neck.

His eyes closed in an euphoric high, tongue licking her cum off his lips before forming a devilish smirk on his face. He looked as happy as a man can be with that smug smile of his.

Bucky smirked at her broken moan, "...so pretty coming for me." he praised ever so endearingly.

He climbed over as he continued to praise what a good girl she was, how well she did, how addictive she tastes, and how he would gladly eat her out for the rest of his life.

Bucky's mouth watered and his cock twitched at the beautiful, yet filthy sight of his wife splayed on their bed; her breasts moved every so gracefully despite her heavy breaths, legs spread apart as he kneeled in between.

Looking down at her mess, he might just want to be greedy and devour her once again, but his cock was much more needy than his anticipated. Right now, he wants nothing more than to feel her tightness around him.

Bucky levelled his face over hers, "Open up, honey." he husked. Still in a slight daze, Y/N blindly followed his temptation, only to feel his lips on her, his tongue settled within her heated cavern.

Every wave and movement of his tongue on hers were purposely slow and gentle. She can feel herself melted into the kiss, even more hypnotized into a dreamy haze.

Bucky pulled away with a rumbling hum, "Taste good doesn't it?" He prompted as he stroked the strand of her hair behind her ear. Y/N can only nod with an approving moan as she relished the gentle caresses on her cheek.

"That's all you, babydoll. Addictive isn't it? So, when I ask for this pussy, you will give it to me. Every single time. Do you understand?" Bucky tighten his gripped on her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.

Her eyes gleamed in ecstasy, "Yes, Bucky." she let out a breathy tone, not trusting that she can keep her moans in if she speaks any louder.

Bucky smiled fondly, "That's my girl." he proclaimed.

"Now, how about making a mess on my cock, hmm? That sounds good to you, angel?" Honestly, it was Bucky who wanted to make a mess in her pussy, but she didn't need to know that for now.

"Yes, please." Y/N answered that way too quick, but she didn't care. The other reason why she was constantly leaking apart from Bucky's skilful tongue, was because she wanted to feel his cock stretching her apart.

Bucky chuckled to her neediness while his hand worked its way to remove his boxers. His cock sprung up to his stomach, with precum spilling from the tip. God he was so wet for her.

"...Hmmm, my sweet little wife had been so so good for me, isn't that right?" He cooed as he pulled her hips to him and lined his cock with her slick entrance that was just aching to be filled.

"Yes, Bucky" She breathed his name, as she looked up to him with full blown lusty eyes. The anticipation for him to plunge inside her needy hole were immaculate. But Bucky loved to edge a little.

"So good to me." Bucky stroked his heavy cock in between her slippery folds; the tip gliding so easily against her clit before proceeding to insert his throbbing length into her, groaning out a pleasurable 'ahhh' when he felt his cock wrapped around her tight, twitching walls, "F-fuck" He nearly whimpered, closing his eyes as he refused to come right when he just entered her tightness.

She gasped in pure ecstasy, feeling his cock in her core.

Bucky stilled as he fully filled her to the brim, letting her adjust to size as he peppered gentle kisses on her face, down to her neck and breasts.

The trembling in her cunt didn't drop its pulse, instead he swore it just increases, "Ease up, baby.. " his mouth wrapped around her nipple, "..or I might come before the fun begins." He mumbled against her breast before giving a harsh suck on her nipple.

That might just multiply the pressure around his cock though.

Even if Y/N knew she might come just by him adjusting the pace, but she didn't care, she craves the friction inside of her, "Buck-- Move please."

She didn't need to tell him twice, Bucky complied quite instantly.

"Oh, fuck!" She whimpered as his cock glide in and out of her at a sluggish pace.

"Fuck you feel damn good, baby," he rasps under his breath, his eyes drinking in every little expression she make. The little nose scrunch, her brows furrow together when he hit the spot deep within her, the way her swollen lips parted only to let out those sinful moans of his name.

"Never stop giving this pussy to me. God, I need this pussy y'hear me? I need it so bad." Bucky was well aware how addicted he was already. And he had no shame on that.

It didn't take him too long to increase the speed which led to him railing her into the bed as her muffled screams filled the room. Y/N sobbed softly to the overstimulating pleasure that started filling her body with Bucky's harsh thrusts. "So good, so fucking good!"

"Mhmm! Too much, I can't" She whimpered. She could feel how Bucky was tearing her apart, spreading her cunt as his cock lunged inside her tight walls, deliciously.

Bucky looks down to where his cock was fucking into her cunt and he shamelessly moaned, loud, deep from within his chest.

He wished she could see the vision in front of him; how her pussy displayed and wide open for his cock as he plunged in and out of her hard.

Gritting his teeth, he fucked her harder, more desperate than before, his fingers digging into her hip.

Y/N was whimpering mad, eyes rolled back mouth wide open, drooling to every thrust Bucky pushed into her. By that point she just had lost every sanity she had in her mind and just wanted Bucky to really fuck the life out of her.

It felt so good.

Too good.

Bucky’s brows knitted into a frown, and his mouth falls open. The deep grunts he was groaning turn into frantic higher pitched moans. His eyes shut, and his head falls back in pleasure.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck for support as her body racked in pleasure from his deep, hard, merciless thrusts. Her body jerked back and forth with his movement.

Their skin on each other; chest touching, the intertwining sound of sinful moans and lewd, wet squelching sound, the whispers of praises uttered for one another, lingered their mind as it gave physical effect to their body.

"A little more baby, please, please— fuckin' take my cock." When was the last time he felt this good? Perhaps never because he couldn't believe how close he was to coming already.

"It feels so good, Bucky."

"Yeah? hmmm, you're handling it so well, honey."

"Yes, yes, yes, -ahh shit, so deep inside me, fuck."

"...Can't believe this pretty little thing is mine."

Those were one of the many, many whispers they had said to each other. They were dirty yet it so sincerely intimate.

Not able to control himself any longer Bucky began thrusting faster than the original pace he had set before, causing her body to thrash around.

She gripped on the bedsheets behind her as he was grunting mad over the way his cock slipped so easily in and out of her tight pussy. The way she bucked her hips to match Bucky's pace, to have more friction between the two.

Oh, it was nastily enticing.

Everything about this moment was passionate and overpowering; to the point where their minds were getting fuzzy.

It's amazing how his body conquered hers like no one had before. Somehow, he knew where all her sweet spots were and how her body would react to them, but he would still be eager to found new ones to tease her right after.

Y/N's body jerked up in pleasure as his cock repeatedly hit her spot. It felt so good, her body to started shake and spasm. Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes as the pleasure racked her body with such force she had never felt or known before.

And Bucky was the only one to ever see her like this and he would like to keep it that way.

"Mhmm, can't wait to come in this pretty pussy of yours babydoll. Fuck-- I'm already leaking inside you, baby. You're going to be so full and messy. Don't you want that, angel?" he teased as he thrusted in and out of her, groaning.

His thumb manage to find its way to play with her sensitive clit, not wanting to neglect that poor needy thing.

Feeling electrified from both his drilling cock and the way he was skilfully rubbing her clit, she squirmed and whined out unintelligible words, somewhere in between moaning his name and something about dying.

Bucky chuckled an amused laugh, somehow he managed to understand her words perfectly.

He removed his other unoccupied hand from her hip, and went to grab her both of her hands, placing them above her head. Restraining her wrists as he continued to fuck her hole; deeply, deliciously.

His body hovered over hers and their pupils dilated as their hot breath danced upon each other's skin. His erotic slid in and out of her cunt with such ease and his strong hands held a hard grip onto her contained wrists as he felt his orgasm arriving.

She felt the same familiar knot in her stomach just aching to be released." oh -oh god, Bucky. I'm gonna come!" she cried out.

"That's right, fucking cum for me!" he groaned out as he pressed his finger a little rough on her throbbing clit.

She shivered and gasped as she could feel her excitement gush out of her pussy as Bucky continued to fuck her through her high. Obscene wet noises coming from between her thighs.

And oh how Bucky relished the feeling of her walls clenching and twitching uncontrollably around his cock, licking his lip as he watched her wet juices spurting out of her pussy, drenching him more than be it was before.

"Feels fucking amazing to be inside you when you come like this, doll. So wet and tight for me..." he praised, getting replies of 'thank you's from her; she sounded delirious but that only ignites the feral in Bucky.

"...F-fuck I'm coming." His cock twitches violently. "Coming inside you, my pretty little wife. Fuckk--" His body jolted, eyes opening for just a second before they rolled shut as his hips snapped forward.

He came with a loud cry of her name, hips stilling as ropes of hot and slick cum shot out of his cock. His hot seed spread over her walls, filling her nice and full, sending shudders down her back.

Y/N can feel how he throbbed inside as each pulse of the delicious sensation came along with the ropes of cum that shoots from his cock.

He sighed as he thrusted his cock with a few more slow and lazy thrusts, letting her twitching walls milks the rest of his cum.

Bucky, soon slowly pulled out of her; she hissed as felt his cum dripping out, down to her asshole. It's a shame that he pulled out quite early than she expected; Y/N wished he could stay inside a little while longer.

He leaned down to spread multiple of soft kisses all over her face. Praising every little thing about her. Bucky thought of giving her the softest after-care she well-deserved after such a long night.

But when she looked up at him with those pair of lust-blown eyes, he never thought those words would've come out from her mouth, "Want more, please Bucky?" her tiny hand managed to grasp on his semi-hard cock, before rubbing his tip on her cum-filled hole.

Bucky never been that hard within that short amount of time. He grunted in pleasure when she pushed herself on his cock.

He let out a breathy chuckle as he cock reached the deepest part of her, "What a plot twist you are, doll."

End.

<< Part II || Extra >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Even if this is the last chapter, I’d still love to hear from you! 🤍

#winterarmyyfics #plottwistfic #mafia!bucky #mob!bucky #bucky barnes au #mafia!bucky x reader #mob!bucky x reader #arranged marriage #husband!bucky #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you

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peachyspaceslvt · 2 years ago

Text

The Blood That Spills Over

Tangerine x f!reader

cross-posted on ao3

summary: You see the way he looks at the gnarled skin on his neck in the mirror. It’s a reminder of his own mortality. The fragility of life and how quickly it can be ripped away. He’s angry at himself, for almost dying. Almost leaving you.

You never touched it, you avoided even looking at it because it was a reminder for you too. A reminder that you nearly lost him.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, injury, smut (minors DNI), no use of y/n, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, blood kink sorta??

a/n: I woke up wanting to write some angst about Tangerine getting shot/having a scar and it evolved into this. I hope you enjoy the absolute filth it turned into.

You had never felt fear as paralyzing and heart-wrenching as you had when you thought you were going to lose Tangerine. You had never seen blood pour out of a person the way that it had from him that day. The crimson liquid stained your skin and clothes as it cascaded through your fingers in your attempts to stop it. The desperate pleas falling from your lips were drowned out by the violent thundering of your own heartbeat, racing with adrenaline.

And by some fucking miracle, by the grace of whatever omnipotent power may have resided above you, he survived, the bullet narrowly missing a major artery.

That was three months ago now but the events of that day still hang over you both like a heavy, suffocating blanket. Tangerine wakes you up in the nights screaming and thrashing, plagued by nightmares. You don’t tell him, but so are you. Images of the blood welling up between your fingers, washing over you both. Lemon has to drag you away from Tangerine’s body.

No, you don’t tell him. You see the way he looks at the gnarled skin on his neck in the mirror. It’s a reminder of his own mortality. The fragility of life and how quickly it can be ripped away. He’s angry at himself, for almost dying. Almost leaving you.

Sometimes he wonders if that’s what kept him here. The thought of leaving you alone being some sort of fucked up saving grace. He remembers what an absolute vision you were when he finally came to after it happened. Haloed in light, clinging to him like you were terrified to let go.

His fingers brush over the angry-looking scar. You never touched it, you avoided even looking at it because it was a reminder for you too. A reminder that you nearly lost him.

You had never felt a love that consumed you the way that your love for Tangerine did. It was intense and it terrified you down to the bone. When he fucked you it felt like something akin to what you imagine experiencing religious ecstasy must be like. It made you feel truly depraved, he had ruined you and you knew in his twisted mind that he got off on knowing no one could hold a candle to how brightly you burned for him.

And although you hadn’t lost him, the possibility of it had rattled you down to your very core.

The two of you have attempted to regain some normalcy back in your lives. If you could have even called it that before anyway. You return to a regular office job, as if your for-hire assassin lover didn’t nearly die right before you on a blundered, set-up mission merely months ago. You come home, make dinner, pretend to be content with the domesticity of it all.

The most fucked up part of it all was that despite everything, Tangerine was itching to go back to work with Lemon again. Who were you to stop him? He’d been this way before you, before getting shot in the fucking neck, if that didn’t change him what would? He promised he’d take low-risk jobs, and do everything in his power to be safe and careful. You trusted him, and you trusted Lemon. They looked out for each other. You know Lemon took almost losing Tangerine harder than you did, even if he didn’t show it. He would keep him safe.

So, you let him.

Right now you’re sitting in your tiny living room, busying yourself the best you can. Tangerine left for a job two days ago. So here you are waiting, helplessly, doing your best to keep yourself from worrying. The sun is low in the sky, bathing your apartment in golden hues. Music hums rhythmically in the background as you tap away on your laptop. You’ve distracted yourself so well, in fact, that you don’t even hear the rattling of keys unlocking the front door or Tangerine’s heavy footsteps through the foyer.

“Hello, darling.” You jump at the sound of his voice and turn to look at him.

There’s a rather nasty gash on his cheek and his lip is busted. He’s holding his arm with one hand, the other holding a ratty duffel bag. His hair looks as if he poorly attempted to fix it right before coming inside. He’s breathing heavily and he looks exhausted.

��Tan.. what the fuck!” You’re on your feet in an instant, taking the bag and tossing it aside, and grabbing at his face to assess him. “Are you okay? Jesus Christ.”

“Yes, love. I’m okay, I’m fine.” He leans into your touch, body looming over you as he relaxes. His free hand snakes around your waist.

“You’re bleeding!” You notice as you lean back to observe him again. There’s blood running down the arm he’s holding, running between his fingers.

“Just got clipped, I’m alright. I promise.” The hand at your waist travels up to cup your face and his thumb rubs over your cheek to assure you. “Didn’t have time to clean myself up, didn’t want to waste a second getting back to you.”

“Fuck okay, I’ll be right back.” You take his hand and lead him to the kitchen and urge him to take a seat at the bar. You nearly run to the bathroom, gathering up a first aid kit and quickly returning to his side.

“You don’t have to do this, really darling,” he says quietly as you wet a cloth with some antiseptic.

“Shut up, let me take care of you, okay?” You whisper, dabbing his cheek with the cloth. “You said you’d be careful.” The words come out more pleading than you intended, but seeing him hurt again was so frightening.

“This was me being careful. You should see the other fuckin’ guy,” he grunts out as you clean his lip. Normally, he would hate being babied like this, but he knew this was your love language. And honestly, the thought of not coming home to you made him cherish the gesture even more.

“I probably don’t want to,” you laugh.

“No, probably not. He’s dead, I’ll tell ya that.”

“Good.” You find a sick satisfaction in knowing Tangerine is willing to kill to stay by your side, that he’d kill for you.

“Not gonna let some bastard take me away from you, sweetheart.” He turns his head and kisses the hand you’re using to apply ointment to his cuts.

“But you almost did,” you murmur, pulling your hand away. “You almost did and you still keep going back.”

He doesn’t reply, merely fixing you with a look that says I’m sorry, but don’t do this.

You start unbuttoning his shirt so you can clean the wound on his arm but he swats your hands away gently, telling you he can do it himself.

“I don’t think it's deep enough to need stitches,” you say, gently wrapping a bandage around his arm once you deem the wound clean enough.

“Told you it wasn’t so bad,” he says without looking up. You reach for him and run a hand through his tousled curls, the other coming up to touch his cheek. He leans into your palm, humming as he closes his eyes.

“Tell me how you did it,” you whisper softly.

He furrows his brow and looks up at you.

“Did what?”

“How you killed him.”

“Do ya really wanna know that, love?” He questions, his blue eyes burning into your own.

You think about the alternative and decide that yes, you do want to know, and nod.

“Nearly turned his face to a pulp with my knuckle dusters. Thought about stompin’ his bloody brains out but I didn’t wanna get it on my shoes.” A smile tugs at his lips as he says the last part. “So, I unloaded the entire fuckin’ gun into his face.”

You trail your hands down from his face, your fingers gliding against his skin, pausing briefly when you reach his neck. Tangerine’s breath hitches, watching you beneath his long lashes.

“I woulda fuckin’ tore him to pieces if it meant I got to come back to you alive,” he mutters darkly.

His words stir something within you and your hand slips to his neck, feeling the rippled skin of his scar. It’s the first time you’ve touched it. It sends a shiver through you both and his hand flies up to your face, fingers wrapping around the base of your skull as his palm cradles your jaw. You feel something damp against your cheek and realize he’s gripping you with the same hand he was holding his arm with earlier, the blood still wet and smearing over your skin.

Tangerine jerks his hand back when he notices.

“M’sorry, love,” he apologizes and reaches for the cloth but you stop him. His eyes meet yours and the sight of you causes desire to surge through his veins. You’re staring at him, your pupils blown and eyes brimming with lust. The sight of his own blood smudged across your face sparks a new level of devotion within him.

His lips find yours in an instant, swallowing you up into a searing kiss that sucks the air straight out of your lungs. You’re crawling into his lap, hands clinging to his bare shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself, and his large hands rest on either side of your waist.

“Christ, you like that?” he breathes as he breaks the kiss. “You’re fuckin’ sick, darling.”

“You made me this way,” You pant, kissing your way down his jawline. You place an open-mouthed kiss at the base of his jaw before tracing your tongue along his scar. Tangerine is unable to bite back the moan it draws out of him, the sound driving you to nip at the distorted flesh. He liked it.

It rouses something primal inside of you, the feeling of taking back the thing that almost took him from you and using it to bring pleasure to him. Tangerine shudders as you kiss and suck around the scar. For so long you avoided it, couldn’t even bear to look at it - seeing it only as a reminder of sorrow. Now though, you realize it doesn’t signify a painful memory, no, it’s a reminder that he fucking lived.

His grip on your hips becomes bruising, pulling you down to meet his growing erection. You release his neck from your teeth and pull back, sliding off of his lap and out of his grip. He’s leaning back in the chair, shirtless and chest heaving, you feel like you’ll go mad if you look at him any longer so your gaze travels down to his trousers. You can see his cock straining against the fabric, your hands going straight to his belt. His own hands reach for the hem of your shirt, sliding the fabric up and forcing you to stop toying with his belt to pull your shirt over your head. While you’re ridding yourself of the garment, you hear the clink of his belt hitting the ground and look to see that he’s already removed and tossed it aside. His lips curl into a smirk when he notices that you were already without a bra.

You move back over to him, tucking your hand beneath the elastic of his underwear to free his cock, gliding your hand along the warm, velvety skin. He reaches for your chest, running his hand from your collarbone to the swell of your breast, ghosting over your nipple and leaving a faint trail of crimson down your skin. His eyes flicker from yours to the near-dried blood painting your torso, hunger and arousal brewing up inside of him.

You give his length a few slow pumps and then drop to your knees, looking up at him through your lashes as you start to press tender kisses along his shaft.

Tangerine watches you, his lips parted and cheeks flushed pink as he gazes down at you, the final shred of sunlight painting an orange glow around him. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen and all you want to do is worship him.

So, you finally take his cock into your mouth and swirl your tongue around the swollen head. Tangerine grunts, it’s deep and guttural, his hips bucking slightly. You feel him pressing against your throat, fighting back your reflexes at the intrusion. His large hand comes forward to thread his fingers through your hair.

“You look so pretty like this,” he rasps, “choking on my cock.” You reach one hand up to grasp his thigh, the other wrapping around his length as you release him with a ‘pop’.

You lick a stripe along the underside of his cock, feeling the veins with your tongue and using your hand to stroke him. The sound is wet and obscene and drives him to tighten his grip on your hair. Then, you swallow him up again, hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head down to take him deeper. You take a deep breath through your nose, more saliva leaking down your chin with every drag of his dick. He twitches in your mouth and you hum in response, feeling your own arousal pooling in your underwear.

“Fuckin hell I’m gonna cum if you keep doin’ that,” Tangerine breathes out shakily and pulls you off of him. “I’m savin’ that for you sweetheart.”

With his hand still tangled in your hair, he pulls you up to him and captures your lips again with his in a sloppy, hungry kiss. His tongue is pressing into your mouth and you meet it with yours. His mustache tickles as he kisses you, the bristly hairs almost becoming abrasive. His big hands are gripping your face and you feel him nip at your bottom lip, dragging his teeth along the pillowy skin.

The way that he kisses you leaves your head swimming, and your heart fluttering in your chest. It’s divine and delicious.

He pulls away, drinking in the sight of your flushed skin and swollen lips. In a flash, he’s on his feet, using his body to pivot you both around and back you up against the kitchen island.

“You really thought I wouldn’t do everything in my power to come back home to this?” He asks as his hand ghosts over your clothed cunt. You gasp when his palm presses against your clit, feeling the way he pauses there for a moment. Your hips grind forward in search of friction and he pulls his hand away to slide your pants and underwear down your legs.

You toss the garments aside and haul yourself up on the counter, grabbing at Tangerine’s face to pull him back to your mouth. He slots himself between your legs and you feel him run his fingers between your slick folds, collecting your juices and reaching down to his cock. His head prods against you, sliding up over your clit and causing you to shudder.

“I’d kill a thousand men if it meant I got to come home and bury myself in this perfect cunt,” he grunts as he presses forward, the head of his cock sliding into you.

You throw your head back as he fills you, leaning back onto your hands as he buries himself to the hilt before slowly pulling back out to the tip.

“Fuck, Tangerine,” you whine his name as he rolls his hips into you again. His jaw is set tight as he watches himself disappear inside of you, the slick sounds echoing through your kitchen.

You push yourself up off of your hands and wrap your arms around him, pressing your body into his. Your legs come up to tangle around his backside and his hands are gripping your waist so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises in the morning. You don’t care, all you can think about is him and how fucking good his cock feels rutting into you.

You turn your attention to his neck, biting the skin of his scar and you hear him growl - hips picking up an even faster pace. His hand reaches between you, coming up to wrap around your throat and he pushes you back, your back meeting the cold marble of the countertop.

“Never gonna leave you, darling,” he moans, his grip on your throat tightening. Tears prick at your eyes, the lack of air dizzying. “You know that, right? Ain’t no one else gonna make you feel this good.”

“No one, no one,” you sputter out, his grasp loosening.

You’re crying, salty tears streaming down your cheeks and coating your lips. Fucking sobbing because it feels so good and because you can’t imagine never getting to feel this good again. Never getting to hold him in your arms again, never feeling so full of him or the way his cock presses against your walls as it drags deliciously in and out of you.

He rocks forward, pressing his chest to yours as he folds himself over you. You’re gripping his forearm so hard you fear you may break the skin

“Fucking,” you rasp, “fucking love you, so much. Don’t ever wanna lose you, lose this.”

You feel a low rumble in his chest as he fucks into you fervently. His fingers find your clit, swollen and begging for attention. The pressure in your abdomen is building, your body spasming under his touch.

“Let me see how good I make you feel,” he croaks. “Lemme watch you cum.”

The sensation of his cock filling you, the veiny length rubbing against your sensitive walls, and his fingers tightly circling your clit send your orgasm rippling through you. Your cunt spasms, squeezing and clenching around his cock. You’re sinking your teeth into his shoulder to stifle your moans, the pain causing his hips to stutter, his cock jerking inside you.

Suddenly he’s hauling you up off of the counter, pulling his cock out of you in order to turn you around. A strong hand on your back shoves you forward, bending you over and pressing your front against the countertop.

“So good for me,” he growls, licking the shell of your ear as he rocks his hips into you once more. He’s chasing his own orgasm at a merciless rhythm. The new angle has his cock slamming into your g-spot, another climax beginning to creep up on you.

Your second orgasm hits you violently, your legs threatening to collapse as pleasure surges through you in waves. Your cunt clamping down on his cock has his orgasm washing over him as well. He rolls his hips into you one final time, buried to the base of his cock, pressing deep inside of you. You feel the pulse of his cock as spurts of cum coat your walls. His teeth sink into your neck as he rides out his climax, his breath fanning over your skin when he lets go.

“Tangerine,” you whisper his name as he lays still above you, his weight pressing you to the surface below.

“Mmm?” He stirs, kissing your neck and the marks he left behind. He pulls his softening cock out of you, lifting himself off the island.

“Think I need a shower,” you sigh, still feeling the post-orgasm euphoria.

“Me and you both, love,” he laughs. “Fuckin’ got my blood smeared all over ya, nasty little thing.”

“Fuck off, you liked it too, you absolute freak.” You shoot him a glare over your shoulder as you push yourself up. He helps you off of the counter, letting you steady yourself before pulling his pants back up and handing you your shirt.

“Be nice to me, might just have ya again in the shower,” he mumbles lowly in your ear.

“I was supposed to be taking care of you,” you remind him.

“I think fuckin’ me is taking plenty good care of me, darling.” You look up at him, his mustache curling up as he smirks down at you.

“Ya know, I meant what I said,” Tangerine says suddenly as you’re massaging shampoo into his scalp.

“What was that?” You pause.

“That I wasn’t ever gonna leave ya,” he tilts his head back, relaxing against your body. You’d managed to convince him to take a bath instead of a shower. You place a kiss to his temple and he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“I know,” you smile. And you mean it.

Something shifts in you both. Tangerine’s nightmares grow less frequent with each day, and you find that you’re no longer haunted by the images of him from that day. You worry less when he’s off with Lemon, knowing he’d claw his way out of hell to get back to you if he had to. That he’d spill the blood of a hundred thousand men to get to you. This is your twisted pleasure, knowing the lengths he’d go to in order to remain by your side.

He knows this, of course. You had wanted all of him, the darkest, sickest parts, and he had given them to you. Raw and tarnished, turning your entire perception of love up on its head. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine smut #tangerine fic #bullet train smut #tangerine imagine #bullet train fic #smut #reader insert #fem reader #reader smut #peachys fics

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

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HI MY LOVE. 🩷🩷

Steddie — Electric Touch (even though we don’t know the vibe, but like…the title was giving)

electric touch (steddie's version)

warnings: use of shock therapy toys (i don't know what else to call those), use of a flogger, blindfold, and leather cuffs (reader is restrained to bed), mentions of a riding crop and nipple clamps, teasing, talk of safe words, talk of overstimulation, overall sexual themes. overuse of nicknames (it's me, what did you guys expect?), minors DNI.

wc: 1.1k+

a/n: hello my luna!!! okay. i know for a fact this song will not have this vibe. i know. but... electric touch? i'm supposed to receive a steddie request with fuckin electric touch and not take this sinful route? c'moooon. i already know this filth is getting me blacklisted by t*ylor n*tion lmao.

“What’s… that?” you question with a hesitant glance between the two boys, watching their smirks widen as Steve ruffles through a bag.

“Oh,” Eddie answers for the both of them, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We just thought we’d try something new tonight.”

You weren’t in the position to argue with them. They’d already arranged you at their mercy – each wrist and each ankle locked to the four posts of the bed, spreading you wide for them to do as they please.

“Something new?” you squeak, trying to turn your head to get a better look of whatever toys Steve was retrieving. Eddie is quick to step directly into your line of sight for the other boy though, crouching down so that all you could see is him and his smug face, “What are you idiots about to-”

“Now, now,” Eddie tsks, shaking his head. He’d put his hair up in a bun, and the moment you’d watched him pull back those messy curls, you’d known he meant business tonight, “Is that how you’re supposed to be speaking to us right now, baby doll? C’mon. Play nice.”

You purse your lips, daring him with a solid stare before you obey, “Can I please know what new toys you two bought?”

He reaches out a palm, and against your better judgment, you lean into it, “There’s those stellar manners. I’m so proud of you.”

“Quick playing with her, Munson,” Steve calls as he finally tosses the empty bag to the side.

“Oh, but it’s so fun,” he murmurs, “Just playing with our little toy before we get to absolutely devour her.”

“That’s not very polite,” you choke out, wrists pulling on their binds automatically with the need to just reach out and touch your boys. Whether it be your hands messing up their hair, palms against their stubble as you pulled them in for a searing kiss, running your fingertips over their bare torsos – you just needed to feel them.

Eddie shrugs playfully, “I never said I play well with others.”

He stands suddenly, and the distance only makes your chest ache worse. They’d had their fill of teasing, you had thought, leading up to this moment. Mouths all over you, a petal pathway of bruises leading from the back of your knees and over the dips of your hips, all the way up to the jugular of your throat. You couldn’t see, but you knew Eddie had left teeth imprints somewhere along the way, on your shoulder if you were remembering correctly, from all the times he’d bitten into your flesh to hear you cry out his name.

And Steve had been no better. In fact, he’d been worse. Fingers had danced along the inside of your thighs in subtle circles, never reaching where you needed him most. He’d been the one to secure your wrists, and when you’d winced and started to complain about the tightness, he’d only grinned devilishly as he tightened the leather strap further. Went so far as to press chaste kisses to your inner wrist pulse points, reveling in the way your heart was already racing for them.

Steve subtly passes something to Eddie, keeping whatever fabric was in his fist out of sight until it was in Eddie’s grasp, before he leveled you, “You remember your safe words, sweetness?”

“Bandana,” you blandly reply, purposefully saying the wrong word out of spite.

It makes Steve nearly sneer. Eddie is unphased, though, approaching you with a clenched fist behind his back before he leans down to bring his face closer to yours.

“Not even close,” he breathes out, lips close enough to brush over your cheek, “Try again and be good for Stevie.”

You try to fight the shudder that runs down your spine as you tilt your head, looking Steve specifically in the eyes as your bratty act begins to falter, “Green, yellow, red. Now, please, for the love of God-“

“Don’t think he’s the one you’ll be worshiping tonight,” Eddie butts in, not deterring you as he had hoped as you continue to direct your words at Steve.

“-Touch me.”

Eddie brings his fist between you two and let’s it slowly unfurl, finally letting you see the silky black fabric he had been holding onto.

A blindfold.

“As you wish,” Steve says, and you get one quick glimpse of the toy in his hand — a flogger, “Put it on her, Munson. It’s time to play.”

Your breathing only quickens as your vision is taken from you, feeling Eddie’s rough fingertips linger against your cheeks before his touch has vanished completely.

You hear a buzz in the distance, before Steve steps closer. His expensive cologne is dizzying, even from a distance. Something sweet, something fresh, something deceiving.

He’s going to fucking ruin you.

“Color?” he asks of you, and you can feel one of his fingertips reach out to touch you, staring at your navel before it’s featherlight touches trail up between your breasts.

“Green,” you sight out, voice already quivering.

“Good. Now, remember those toys you were eyeing the last time we took you to the shop?”

Oh. Fuck. “I remember.”

A new line of toys — all based on electric currents. Meant to shock the recipient. Whips, floggers, nipple clamps, riding crops. All charged to inflict pain amongst the pleasure.

“Good girl,” Steve continues to taunts. The buzzing grows louder now, right along with the thrumming in your chest, “Remember — yellow for slow down, red for stop. Understood?”

A hard swallow. “Understood.”

“Excellent,” his touch retreats just as he reaches the hollow of your neck, pausing to press in to accentuate his praise before he’s back to keeping his hands to himself, “Now, I think I’d like to play a game, honey. I want to see just how many times me and Munson can make you cum before we even lay a hand on you. Sounds absolutely electrifying, right?”

You only hum in response. And you aren’t prepared when suddenly, several leather straps smack against your thigh, the normal sharp pain of it overcome with a shock that has your entire body jumping and your already hot cunt clenching around air.

“Use your words,” Steve’s low voice commands.

He doesn’t have to ask you twice.

“Y-Yes sir! Yes, please, fuck, I-“ you can’t get out a proper sentence, skin still tingling where he’d whipped you.

“Look at you,” Steve chuckles lowly. This time, the leather drags softly over your torso, still shocking you along its path, leaving a molten want and need rolling in your lower abdomen, “Haven’t even started yet, and you can’t even speak. We’re going to have so much fun, honey.”

Eddie’s voice calls out from where in the room, “Who’s playing with her now, Harrington?”

“My bad,” he doesn’t even apologize — he’s not the slightest bit sorry, “What do you say, Munson? You up for the challenge?”

Your legs are already shaking. Thighs quivering as they stay spread wide, the cool air of the room against your exposed heat sending shockwaves up your spine. Your mind spins, and you question for a moment how you’ll survive this night.

“I say it’s time to play, big boy.”

#speak now (ghost's version)#eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #steddie x reader smut #my writing #eddie munson smut

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sarah-dipitous · 1 year ago

Text

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 222

Halt & Catch Fire/Time Heist

“Halt & Catch Fire”

Plot Description: when a vengeful spirit starts killing off a group of friends through their electronic devices, Sam and Dean race to find an explanation

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: the GPS told the girl to get out of the truck so I’m gonna go with sure

“What do you know? Your phone’s 3G” is such a weird burn, especially for like 2014 or maybe 2015.

This was the funniest opening to the show I’ve seen yet, I think…but I don’t think it was necessarily trying to be. Between the aforementioned comment, the GPS first calmly telling the girl to get out of the car and then screeching at her to, and then “destination dead ahead” as the car careened off a bridge that was out. BRAVO, supernatural writers room

WHAT IS THIS EPISODE?! We’re not far in at all and dean’s eating something that sounds like it’s part brownie, part croissant, and part cookie, and Cas has discovered riverboat gambling which is apparently a problem???

Bitch, you are from KANSAS, why did you say the Midwest so derogatorily??

This girl reading Dean for FILTH with his lack of technological knowledge and then just going “you’re gen x. Right.” Girl, you are my new best friend.

This is quite possibly my favorite conversation in this whole show. Sam is an older millennial, Dean’s late gen x, and this girl is full gen z. Sam is enjoying himself, knowing everything the other two are talking about as they snark each other on things the other doesn’t know

Is there NO security at this junk yard? You can just torch an entire pick up truck and no one notices???

I know I still sometimes do it, but the whole talking out loud in hashtags these girls are doing IS annoying. Unfortunately, it does fit with the time

…I’m sorry…this girl’s laptop charger strangled her. Like…came up behind her like a snake and wrapped itself around her neck. I just…what is this show even??

Dean immediately questioning the decision to name a fraternity Sigma Theta Delta or STD is just…it’s beautiful. I love it here

Also him loving college campus food is so very Dean

Why are all these high school and college boys just the ABSOLUTE worst?? They show absolutely NO remorse and just…are weirdly threatening all the girls they’re in content with. Like…ZERO redeeming qualities

So this ghost is kinda I Know What You Did Last Summer-ing these kids

As much as he pretends to be a skeeze (and kind of is a skeeze sometimes), when it comes down to it, he’s SO kind and compassionate to young women

I hope she has good insurance on all her electronics…Dean just smashed them all

Oh this poor lady…the ghost’s widow (who he was married to for less than a year) just didn’t want to lose her husband again 😭

Dean’s so good at giving advice that he should take

I know they’ll find a cure but I am crying at Dean wanting to just fight the mark as much as he can til he goes down swinging

“Time Heist”

Plot Description: The Doctor turns bank robber when he is given a task he cannot refuse

You can really tell that the budget is so much bigger than it was in earlier seasons AND that Moffat’s stylistic choices are REALLY having their effect (derogatory on both accounts)

Clara in a pantsuit though??? It’s definitely a good look for her

Ohh!! A very high stakes escape room!!

Yeah, I suppose having a shapeshifter on your team would be good to have when dna verification is something that’s on the table

Why did I, as I was typing about them having a shapeshifter on the team, forget that she was a shapeshifter and wonder where their fourth team member went?? SMH

This thing in orange is the teller….sometimes it does feel like that

THE TELLER IS NEVER WRONG??! God how I wish that’s how banks worked…ok, it’s very funny that I paused before the end of that sentence because the full sentence is “the teller is never wrong when it comes to guilt” which feels very like people cutting off the “in matters of taste” from “the customer is always right.”

I would LOVE to be able to wipe the minds of customers and turn their brains into soup if I felt they deserved it

Is this why people call it a safety deposit box? Television?? (Buckle in for a lot of really stupid bank talk this episode and good luck figuring out what’s ACTUALLY happening) because at my bank it’s just a safe deposit box and it drives me up the wall when people call it a safety deposit box. I’d never actually correct people like “well ACTUALLY it’s THIS” but I will use the correct term right back

Love Clara’s little nod when the Doctor answers “I still don’t know why you’re in charge” with “basically, it’s the eyebrows”

He just called them Team Not Dead? 💀

I think there’s something wrong with Psi (of all the spellings, I wouldn’t have thought of that. I was thinking it was either Sy or Cy) that’s beyond stress making him glitch

I’m connecting the dots (I’m not connecting shit) between ESPECIALLY the Doctor and Saibra and Psi. Or maybe Psi is more along the lines of Clara, but they all seem to be alone (with kind of the exception of Clara and the Doctor having each other). Psi has had to delete all his loved ones from his memory, Saibra has been taught she can’t be trusted, The Doctor is the last of the time lords and Clara? Well…I dunno.

Oooooo they found the cage the teller is kept in…oh poor Saibra…

I know I’m supposed to sympathize with Team (3/4) Not Dead, but man do I wish I was allowed and even encouraged to destroy people being assholes at the bank

So…all that was pretty much for nothing?? Saibra and Psi are dead and the vault still isn’t opening?

I wish more banks still had the large circular vault doors. I know at least one branch near me does but that’s far too few

Of COURSE the teller is the last of its kind…

THEY WEREN’T DEAD!! The atomic shredders were really teleporters!!!

What is it about powerful but more importantly evil red haired women that are just…you know? First Abaddon, then Rowena, now Director Karabraxos…oh, she’s awful and I would never want to be within a hundred light years of her in real life but oMG

I feel like I’m starting to understand all the weird timey wimey stuff happening for this episode to work but the final part is just out of my reach

Ok. Why’s the Doctor trying to be the funniest person at his brain soupening? “Lots of memories. Big scarf…bow tie…bit embarrassing. How do you like the new look? I hoping for minimalism, but I think I came out with magician” I mean…he’s not WRONG but like…a minimalist magician

Yeah, yeah, yeah. We KNOW and figured out the Doctor and the Architect are the same person…oh, is Madame Karabraxos’s big final regret keeping the teller hostage?? It wasn’t the last of its kind!!! There’s another!!!! I’m just. I’m weirdly emotional

I wish we could get more of Team Not Dead

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

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gemini-sensei · 2 years ago

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Omg I absolutely loved pt 2😭

If you’re up for writing a third part then I have a couple ideas, maybe after a few days Eli talks things over with demetri and like assures him that he still wants to be friends

And he explains that his feelings for his sister don’t have to impact their friendship.

If you wanna make it nsfw then maybe Eli could offer to help demetri get things out of his system, but really that’s up to you haha!

I literally love your work sm like you’re one of my fav writers😭

Ah 😭😭 you're words are too kind! And I'm sorry this took so long to get to! I hope this is okay.

This is Demetri focused ○ Side Eli x Reader ○ Y/N used

CW: mlm smut (I don't usually write mlm smut, so I hope I did it well), rough sex, one sided feelings, angst smut blurb. (unedited)

A/N: this is a little pt. 3 to a little blurb duo I did a few weeks ago. They're not linked here because I'm on mobile rn, but they will all be linked in my masterlist soon 💖

"Look, man, I hope this doesn't make things weird between us," Eli starts. It's been a few days since the incident and he's hardly come around. Demetri thought that meant their friendship was truly, actually over. He wouldn't have blamed him if it was. "I don't want it to make things weird, okay? It's no big deal."

Demetri wants to disagree, that it's quite a big deal. He feels like a fool, though, so he keeps quiet on it. He hums and nods. "Yeah."

It's a feeble agreement, as he understands that they're not going to actually mention in detail what happened. It's going to go unspoken, a secret they take to their graves in all likelihood. If they never talk about it again, he's sure he can live with that.

"So we're cool?" Eli asks.

Demetri looks at him, offering a smile. "Yeah, we're cool."

Bounding footsteps come from the stairs and both look over, seeing Y/N appear. She's dressed up a little more than casual with a bright smile on her face. If it wasn't for the circumstances, Demetri might have forgotten she was home. However, he knew Eli hadn't come over to hangout with him, not today.

"Okay, I'm ready," she giggles.

Eli smiles at her and extends his hand to her. She grabs it and their fingers interlace. The way they look at each other is pure despite the filth they spoke the other night. He starts to lead her to the door, taking her away for a date that'll probably end with them at his house.

Demetri stands awakrdly, waving them off. Eli says some parting words about seeing him later, but doesn't say when that will be. Before he knows it, they're gone and he's all alone. Once Eli's car pulls out of the driveway, heavy feelings fall over Demetri like a wet blanket. It weighs him down to sit on the couch, mind racing with thoughts.

All he wants to do is take his mind off of Eli, but it's as if he's the sun and every single one of Demetri’s thought revolve around him. He tries to push them all away, but it's hard, so he decides the best thing to do was to call a friend over.

The only person that came to mind was the only boy he's ever kissed...

○●○

Within the hour, Demetri's face is shoved into his bedsheets, ass in the air as he gets pounded into. He whines and whimpers, low lip caught between his teeth so hard that he's sure there will be a mark when they're done. He's scared he'll say something wrong, say the wrong name, so he opts to keep his mouth shut as tightly ad possible.

His legs are shaking under him, the bed rocking with their movements. He feels strong hands buried in his thick hair, holding it tightly to keep him down. His cock bobs uselessly as it hands hard between his thighs, leaking pre cum all over the bedsheets.

Then it starts becoming too much and he moans loudly. "Miguel! Right there!"

Miguel's other hand grips Demetri’s pale hip tightly, pushing in hard with low grunts. He angles his movements to hit the spot again and again, wanting to hear his friend cry out for him like that more.

"You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you?"

Demetri's knuckles are white as he claws at the bedsheets, pulling them off of the mattress as he cries out. "Yes! Yes, I do!"

Miguel smacks his ass hard, making Demetri's body jolt forward. His chest presses against the bed, bowing his back and really presenting himself to his friend. He begins to drool as he sits there, taking it, and barely able to move back against the hard, lovely thrusts.

His mind is blank, which is just what he wanted.

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trashytracktales · 20 days ago

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Love the Lando fic. I am soooo desperate for a really smutty Max fic. He’s been feeling down that he hasn’t been winning and his best friend jokes she’ll give him head if he wins the sprint in Austin. You can guess the rest. I really in some need for friends to lovers smut

So we ride | MV¹

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for loving my previous work!! I hope you like this one as much 🤍🎀

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── She’s been there for him even before his career in F1 took off. And now that Max is struggling, there’s no other place she’d rather be than beside him.

𐙚 pairing ──── Max Verstappen x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, smut, descriptive language & descriptive paragraphs (because I can't stop yapping), mature/sexual content, fingering, unprotected sex, friends to lovers, Filthy Mouth Max, swearing.

𐙚 word count ──── 4.4k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 4, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I swear I planned to make an absolute filth out of this one, but somehow, I low-key ended up giggling and kicking my feet by the end. Nice 👌🏻

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE DISTANT CHEERS still reverberate faintly from the paddock as she waits by herself in Max's room.

She has no idea why she's suddenly nervous. It's just Max. Her Max. Her best friend.

She's been in his driver's room countless of times before, but something has shifted. The energy is charged, somehow, with the weight of everything that’s changed between them over the past month. He’s been making more effort to be in her life, but even though she thinks he does it only because he needs a break from his hectic life, she's not complaining. Quite the opposite.

They’ve been talking day and night, sharing calls and endless text conversations. Every message, every call, and every laugh they’ve shared has pulled them closer, blurring the lines that they’d always kept so carefully intact.

Memories creep in like old songs she can't stop replaying in her head while she rests in the small space that smells like him — a delicious, subtle scent that lingers wherever he goes, a clean mix of sandalwood and a hint of leather from his racing gear, with just a trace of something so uniquely Max.

Without having the privilege to stop her mind, she lets it wander to the first time they met, long before Max secured his seat in Formula 1. Even though he was only a teenager at that time, he was ferocious and resilient, and anybody could see the determination behind his eyes, to the point it was almost impossible to turn and look away.

At least that's how she remembers him.

From that day on, she’d been there for every milestone. Every point earned, every setback, every win, every lose, every title, every new girlfriend, and every break-up. She never questioned him, even when others criticized his aggression on track and his obsessive desire to win. She was aware that he had a cause to fight for and a lot to prove. And she understood that in a way that Max had told her no one else did.

She knows him better than anyone. Maybe because they go so far back. Or because he trusted her enough be unapologetically himself around her. They had always had a tight bond and, at some point, they ended up giving in to temptation. They were each other’s first, and even though both of them were so bad at it, that moment still remains until this day a mix of curiosity and comfort that neither of them had found elsewhere.

But they were young and very much not in love, and they didn’t want to lose themselves in the process. It made more sense to stay friends, because when it comes to relationships, timing is everything. He was going to be away all the time, and she couldn't wait for him — not that he would have ever let her do that. Max Verstappen is selfish in every aspect of the word, especially when it comes to the people he cares about, and she has always been his soft spot.

Being far too deep in thought, she barely hears the door open, flinching slightly as Max storms in, a tight smile plastered on his face.

“You’re here?” he asks in surprise, the second he sees her laying on the two-seater couch.

The first thing he notices is a papaya orange cap, and a Red Bull jersey that she stole from him two seasons ago, neatly tucked into her black skirt.

“Well, you won,” she shrugs, articulating her words, thoughtfully. “That was a cute drive.”

Max laughs, tracing a hand through his messy hair, “Cute?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

“And simply lovely, congrats!” she giggles at the use of his catchphrase.

His skin is glistening with a mix of sweat and that post-win adrenaline that's still in his system. Even though it was just a sprint race, a win is a win. She can tell he’s tired, but he’s more alive now than she’s seen him in weeks. The second half of the season is not treating him well, and it has been hard for Max — though not impossible — to keep the cofidence up, given that the top step of the podium seems to get further and further away with each race week.

He even told her that he misses hearing the Dutch national anthem. Coming from Max, that means something.

It's frustrating, but he manages.

“Thanks,” says Max, leaning against the door as he unzips his suit, tying a knot with the sleeves around his waist.

She can’t help but take him in — his messy helmet hair that she always makes fun of, but secretly finds very, very attractive, the damp collar of his racing suit, the helmet marks imprinted on his rosy cheeks, and the muscles in his forearms flexing as he crosses his arms, still buzzing with energy.

“How’s Martin?” Max continues, the corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing smirk while he crosses the room to sit next to her.

The room itself it's pretty small — just the couch, a table with his water bottle and energy drink scattered on top, and a change of clothes resting on a shelf nearby. But despite its plainness, Max’s presence fills every inch of it.

“He had the nerve to shush me when I started singing your song after you crossed the finish line,” she admits.

Max laughs again, a deep, rich sound, making the walls seem to hum with it. He leans back, his arm draping over the back of the couch, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating from him. His scent is still there, more pronounced now that he's actually in the room and so close to her.

“You looked amazing out there,” the girl continues, turning to glare at Max, “Like you were fighting for more than just a win.”

“And you were in the wrong garage to see it. Isn’t that so sad?” he asks, his gaze softening as he studies her.

With a gentle touch, he takes her cap off and throws it across the room.

She gasps dramatically, pretending to be affected by his gesture, “That's bully behavior.”

“No, that's hideous and it ruins your pretty outfit.”

“Just say you're jealous, and I won't wear it again.”

“I'm jealous,” Max admits it in a heartbeat, making her breath catch.

There’s something raw in his expression, something he’s kept for himself for a long time. He reaches out, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, the back of his fingers lingering against her cheek.

She bites her lower lip as she looks down at the tiny gap between them, trying to act like none of this is making her head spin, “Good to know. I'll come in full papaya gear at the next race.”

Max gives her a ‘don't push it’ glare, his hand sliding from her cheek to rest just a fraction of an inch away from hers. “I didn’t expect you to be here,” he murmurs, his voice rough with somethings she can’t quite decipher.

“I told you I'll come if you win.”

They both pretend to believe her insinuation, even though they know she always cares about Max, not just when he wins races. Which circles back to the conversation they've had last night, and the way she tried to motivate him; it's been on their minds constantly throughout the day. It was just a joke, sure. But still, Max took the podium, and unconsciously credits her with a small percentage of his performance today.

When their eyes meet again, the air is suddenly suffocating, as if the past is racing back between them. She has no idea who moves first and, somehow, Max's hand finds hers, warm and steady. It’s just a simple gesture — delicate, innocent, but somehow it feels like so much more. It anchores them in the present. It keeps them aware of each other.

“That's the thing, no? You’ve always been there for me,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I didn’t deserve it. And I want you to know that I never took you for granted. Not once.”

“Max…” she's not often at a loss for words, but when she hears his, it's hard for her to say anything else.

Every barrier they had both put up and every wall she had ever created around their friendship seems to be collapsing the moment Max starts caressing the soft skin of her hand with his thumb. There is an undeniable desire between them, and they are both aware of it. However, their bond is much more important than a passing feeling. Right? A feeling that forms like a warm ball in her stomach, and makes his heart pound even faster when he notices her breath intensifying.

“In my eyes, you always deserve it,” she assures him, deciding to intertwine her fingers with his.

“Is that so?” he challenges her.

She nods, “You deserve to have everything you want because I know how hard you work to—”

Max leans in, just slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur, “I wants us.”

Her heart races as she meets his eyes — a flawless ocean blue, in which she would gladly bathe. Or drown, even.

“I want you,” he continues, his free hand traveling to her bare thigh, squeezing it slightly, “I want to stop pretending like you’re not driving me fucking mad, and that I don’t care who you’re giving your attention to.”

For a moment, they both hold their breath, his forehead dropping against hers.

“Is it clear enough what I want?” asks Max, and she nods again. “No, baby. I need words,” he frowns against her skin, as if it pains him not to get her confirmation. The confirmation that he waited so long for, but didn't feel he had the right to ask for.

Until it was too much.

Until now.

“I hear you,” she finally replies. “But what if—”

“If, if, if,” he cutts her off. “I don’t give a fuck about imaginary scenarios anymore. If it's not what you want, tell me to stop, and I will.”

But she doesnt.

Instead, she spreads her thighs wider to make room for his hand to move forward — all the confirmation he needs. He grins instantly, closing his eyes for a split second, living the same feeling he gets when he's on the podium after a hard-won race, letting it all soak in.

Max’s hand is trailing further up her thigh, unable to help but keep the smirk on when he realizes that whatever they feel for each other, is mutual. He runs his finger lightly over the top of her lace panties, letting out a low sigh at the way her body responds to the slighlest touch. In return, she wraps her arms around Max's neck, looking at each other in anticipation. They know it right away — it’s like the fall of the Bastille, the moment before a revolution, when restraint gives way to a desire too powerful to ignore. They both know that after this, there’s no going back, no way to rebuild what’s been broken or control the outcome.

They know it’s not a calculated risk, and it can end so badly, but when Max leans in to kiss her — a kiss meant to suck every ounce of doubt out of her — the walls come crashing down. They melt into it, all the tension fading away. The hand between her thighs is now working her at the same pace as the kiss, soft whimpers cascading from her into Max’s mouth, making him lose it.

He almost can't believe this is really happening. But it’s as real as his win, and all he needs for tonight to get better is to bury his fingers in her cunt, preparing her for his cock, and pump her full of cum until none of them can take it anymore, just to make up for all the time they've lost while they were dancing around their insecurities.

Without any warnings, he drops to his knees between her legs as she lets her head rest on the back of the couch, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

Max decides to take it slow.

Even if he doesn't want to admit it, he is afraid that maybe this is just a momentary lapse, and he won't get to have her like this for who knows how long. Therefore, he needs to take his time, savoring everything she's willing to give him. Now.

He gently pushes the thin fabric of her panties to the side, running his index finger over her slik, getting coated in her wetness even before he's halfway up to her clit. His thumb starts to gently rub against her warmth in circular motions over her soft skin of her moud, automatically feeling the urge to look up at her as she clasps her hands against the edge of the couch, her knuckles turning white.

His mouth goes dry.

“God, do you always get this worked up?” asks Max with a husky voice, trying to ignore how annoyed he gets at the thought of her pussy dripping as a result of someone else's touch. “Has anyone ever made you this wet?”

She shakes her head, covering her mouth with her hand, but Max is way too focused on parting her folds with his fingers to register her whimpers and the way she's fighting to keep quiet — these rooms are not only narrow and practical, they also have extremely thin walls. Plus, her glossy, red clit is more captivating than any answer she'd give him.

The truth is, he doesn't even care, because his only goal now is to ruin her for whoever comes after him.

“So pretty,” he muses, pressing one digit inside, her pussy growing wetter as it tightens around his finger. Which encourages Max to add one more right away, gently scissoring them to stretch her out. “Fuck,” he exhales, as she pushes her hips into his hand.

“Max…” she drops her hand just as he's curling his fingers inside, touching her sweet spot repeatedly, pumping in and out with precision.

“Does that feel good, schatje?

“So. Good,” she whimpers, closing her eyes at the feeling.

Max’s fingers start moving faster, establishing an agonizing pace, his eyes watching her reactions intently, seeing her back arching.

“Look at you, fuck,” he swears, leaning in to graze his lips against her thigh, leaving tiny kisses in their wake while he keeps his eyes on her.

A few more pumps of his fingers are enough to feel her clench hard around him, and finally letting go. Her moans are echoing in Max's ears like a siren call, tempting, potentially dangerous, while his fingers help her riding out her orgasm. His free hand is gently caressing her side the entire time, his lips pressing harder into her thigh, which makes her moan again.

“Gotta be quiet, baby. I can’t fuck you in here if you can’t keep quiet. And you want me to, yes? You want your sweet cunt fucked until you cum around my cock?”

“Mhm... The mouth on you, Verstappen,” she pants as quietly as possible, while grabbing his shoulders to pull him on top of her.

He helps her getting rid of her panties altogether, while their lips meet again in an explosion of new emotions, each more and more intense. Max knows their options are limited since it's such a small space, and doesn't hesitate to pull her into his arms, flipping them around so now he's laying on the couch, while she straddles him. His hands are instantly landing on her waist, listening to her giggle at the sudden change of positions.

“Hi,” Max smiles at her, his face radiating with pure excitement.

“Hi,” the girl parrots, wrapping her arms around his neck, tenderly playing with her fingers in the hair at the back of his head.

“You good?”

“I’m great,” she says, returning the smile.

“I fucking want to, but we don't have to if you have the slighlest doubt,” Max reminds her. “I'll jerk off in the shower later.”

She presses the pads of her fingers on his swollen lips to shut him up. “I want to,” she assures him, “I'm just scared it'll ruin us.”

Max cups her chin in his hand, his eyes heavy with understanding and the desire to prove her wrong, “Not gonna happen.”

“How are you so sure?” she asks, swallowing hard.

“I'm not, but I'll give you head if—”

She bursts out laughing as soon as she realizes Max is quoting her, “You are absolutely outrageous.”

Max keeps his hold on her waist as she shifts around, a slightly nervous but excited breath leaving his chest while she gets comfortable on top of him. “Tell me what you want, schat.”

In response, her fingers start fumbling with the knot he tied around his waist earlier, tugging at his fireproof with an urgency she can barely contain. Once her hands are making contact with his bare chest, warm and firm, she's sliding the rest of his racing suit past his waist, until it pools around Max's hips. She feels the rush as he pushes the rest of it down his legs, sucking in a breath of air at the sight of him.

“Max, you…,” she swallows the lump that got stuck in her throat, raising her eyes to look at him, slightly worried; nothing could've prepared her for how big Max is. “I've never heard you bragging about your dick.”

He chuckles at her words, his eyes turning into two adorable crescents moons on his face.

He's changed a lot over the years, of course. Max was only 16 when they had sex for the first time. But seeing him under her like that it's just a reminder of how small she feels against him now. His big hands can encircle her waist if he wanted to, and his arms could easily break her if he held her too tightly.

She looks down and notices the stark contrast between them: his broad shoulders, his strength, and their heights.

With her body nearly dwarfed by his, she is overcome with trepidation as she questions whether they will even fit together. However, she notices that Max is already trying to ease her concerns without saying a word, as he lifts her chin and meets her eyes with a tenderness that releases all the tension.

“You can take it, baby,” he assures her, guiding himself towards her entrance.

She lowers herself on him, slowly, intently, so easily that her hot cunt is practically sliding along his length, forcing Max to swallow a moan at how her wetness spreads over him. He pushes his hips forward, impatient, watching his cock disappear between her thighs. It drives them both absolutely crazy.

The intensity, the intimacy and all the places they make contact would normally be way too much. But then, Max pulls his hips down, only to fuck back in, feeling her relaxing on top of him.

The fit is perfect.

Her body is finally full. Complete.

“God, look at you,” he almost chokes, palming her ass under the skirt to help her spread more around him. “You're so beautiful.”

She cries out a moan, feeling as if her body gets split in two in real time, in the best way possible. His cock is so big that she's pretty sure she can feel him between her lungs.

Max means to say something else, but his words get stuck in his throat as the air gets knocked out of his lungs. A gasp leaves his parted lips as she sinks down on him completely — finally — his arms immediately wrapping around her waist, holding onto his girl like she's his lifeline. His chest sparks with a goran as he looks at her, the blue in his eyes darkening at the feeling.

“So tight, baby, I can’t wait to fuck you,” says Max, his hands getting lost under her shirt, palming her breasts. “You feel so good already. Gonna make me cum so fast,” he adds in a breathless mess, his heart pounding in his chest at the feeling of her body against his.

It’s a consuming feeling, that leaves them both senseless.

Max starts to move slowly, guiding her up and down his cock, until they set a steady rhythm. They're an amalgam of moans and gasps, as his hands rest on her waist tighter than before, fucking in deeper with each thrust. The sounds they make and the way they hold each other brings them together in a new way. It's scary and exciting and far too risky, but none of that matters now.

All that matters is the way she holds onto him, mouth ajar as they look at each other. She uses him to anchor herself while she sinks deeper, again and again, until pleasure is all she knows.

“Oh… Max. Max, please,” she beggs, the sound of them connecting reverberating throughout the entire room.

At the sight of her flushed face and parted lips, Max’s jaw clenches, his eyes trailing down her body to where they’re joined, just to see how she takes him in with such ease. The image causes a low groan to leave his mouth, his fingers digging into the skin of her thighs. She takes him so well, to the point of getting his own thighs wet as her pussy drips with their combined pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good on me, love. So good for me, that’s it,” he moans softly, his eyes falling shut to allow him to feel her everywhere in his body.

“Max… I can’t… Please, it’s too much.”

His eyes snap open to look at her again. Hearing her on the edge of desperation and feeling her body starting to shake with pleasure on top of him, it’s enough for Max to take charge, even though he’s not the one on top. Without a thought, he moves his hands back on her waist, holding her still as he lifts up his hips to start moving from underneath.

“Hold on to me, baby. I got you.”

He manages to send her to a whole another realm as he intensifies the pace, while the sounds of their bodies slapping together animates the room.

“That’s it, fuuuck. Let me take care of you,” he's breathing hard between thrusts, feeling dizzy as his climax builds, the heat in his stomach burning hotter.

He’s consumed by her in the most satisfying way — she is all that he feels and sees, her body pliant over his, her sweet noises in his ear being the only thing he can focus on as he looks at her through his lashes.

Max’s name cascades from her mouth, over and over again, until she starts clenching around his length — he knows that she’s close, and he’s right there with her.

His breath sounds shaky when he speaks again, “Where do you want me, baby?”

She knows that it's not a good idea for him finish inside her, but the thought of Max owning her like that gives her goosebumbs all over her body.

“Inside,” she gasps, burying her fingers in his hair and leaning over for a messy kiss. “Want to feel you...”

“Yeah, you want me to fill your pretty pussy? That you kept from me for so long?” asks Max against her jaw, his voice coming out in a low, sultry moan, just as a few drops of sweat gather along his hairline.

He lets his head fall back with a low groan, fucking his cock deeper and making her see stars in the process.

“Oh, god! Max,” she gasps, her voice coming out almost like a warning.

He takes it as an invitation to fuck her harder, feeling her tensing, then becoming boneless on top of him as he rides her orgasm. Max follows closely, moaning loudly as his hips move slopply, spilling inside of her, rolling his eyes at the feeling of her body milking his release.

“So fucking good, schatje.”

She wants to agree with him, but her mind is far too foggy and all she can do is run her hand over his skin, which is slick with a thin layer of sweat. She cups his face in her small palm while her other hand rests on his neck, sealing their lips together in a much slower, tender kiss.

Their tongues meet in a slow dance, tasting each other, making Max smile under it. She presses her forehead on his, a content smile appearing on her face this time, both of them completely blissed out.

Max’s hands runs along her thighs, admiring the feel of her soft skin under his touch as he speaks in a low, husky voice that still sounds breathless, “How the hell are you real?”

“Don’t ask me anything for the next five business days.”

He chuckles softly, giving her one more kiss before helping her up so he can gently pull out of her. She gasps again at the emptiness he leaves behind, feeling Max’s cum mixed with her own release oozing out of her. He swallows dryly, forcing his hand to gather up the result of their pleasure and fuck his fingers back in her cunt a few times before she collapses on top of him.

Max softens under her, tracing his hand through the waves of her hair, and for a moment, he looks as though he might say something. Something that could change the entire trajectory of their friendship.

Friendship.

He puffs out a laugh at the word.

“What?” she asks, curiously raising her eyes to look at him.

He looks so incredibly beautiful as he breathes slowly, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. When it comes to Max, his beauty goes beyond his appearance; beneath the fierce, self-assured driver the outside world perceives, he displays now a softness and sensibility that only she has access to.

“You still owe me a blow job,” he murmurs, his breath warm against her skin.

A laugh escapes her, soft and giddy, but as she pulls back, the intensity in his gaze remains.

Oh, he’s serious.

“I’ll find you tomorrow, after the race,” she says, her voice soft, almost as if she’s making a promise.

“What if I don’t win?”

She laughs, “A podium also counts.”

For now, that’s enough for him.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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rosethornxs · 3 years ago

Text

Voyeur

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Here it is on AO3

Rated: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Din fulfils one of your fantasies.

Warnings: SMUT, PWP (plot? what plot? idk her…), masturbation (m), voyeurism, dirty talk, praise, mentions of PIV, finger sucking, cum eating, brief oral (m & f receiving), overstimulation (m), fingering (f receiving), fluff (as always), ummmmm, I think that’s everything but lemme know if I missed anything.

A/N: Don’t look at me; this started as a simple drabble idea and very quickly got out of control. I had absolutely zero intention of writing over 2 thousand words about watching Din masturbate but here we are. I also wrote this almost entirely on my phone because I was on vacation last week. Please enjoy my filth.

He’d agreed, reluctantly, when you’d asked if you could watch him. He preferred your tight, hot cunt, or your plush mouth, even your soft hand over his own rough fist — but he wanted to make you happy, he wanted to do this for you.

“Can I watch you?” you’d asked, wrapped in his arms one night after he’d coaxed out your pleasure over and over with gentle touch and sweltering adoration.

“Watch me what, sweet girl?”

You’d been a little shy about it, chewing your lip, and avoiding the dark T of his visor. He’d found it endearing, until you told him what you wanted and all the blood in his brain rushed straight back to his cock, making him near dizzy at the prospect.

The words still echo in his mind now as you gaze at him, wide eyed, plush lips parted in awe at the sight of him.

“Can I watch you…um…touch yourself?”

He’d been silent for several moments and you‘d nearly begun to apologise for even asking before he finally spoke up again.

“You…you want that?” his thoughts had raced, shooting through the scenarios lightning quick. In all of them he wanted you to touch him — he wanted you to help him get off. “Are you sure?”

You’d nodded, heat blooming in your cheeks as your eyes tentatively met the void of his helmet, “Yes.”

He’d thought for another moment, searching your face — restrained eagerness brightening your expression. Any hesitation he’d had vanished there. He’d do this for you — he’d do anything for you.

And that was the start of it.

Several nights later, you’re perched in the copilot’s chair, wearing nothing but a pair of panties and a thin tank top. Din lounges back in the pilot’s chair facing you, naked as the day he was born except for the silvery Beskar helmet atop his head. His skin is illuminated by late night stars and the Crest’s colourful twinkling indicator lights. He’s so beautiful, and so real, relaxed muscles soft and showing their years of use. Your lips curl into a smile as you appraise his nude form, spread out before you.

You want to touch him like you normally do, feel the warmth of his skin with your fingertips, trace each scar with your lips — but that’s not what you’re here for now and there will be plenty of time for that later.

He feels awkward on display like this — it feels unnatural for him to be so bare, so vulnerable. But the look of wide eyed excitement on your face makes him shove those feelings back down.

He’s never done this with an audience and he’s not exactly sure where to begin.

“So…” he starts, and you can sense his uncertainty.

“Just do what you usually do…” you encourage, offering him a reassuring smile, “pretend I’m not even here.”

He chuckles, “That’s the opposite of what I usually do, sweet girl.”

Your stomach flips at his confession, your mind wandering to all the potential times he’d tugged on his cock with you on his mind. How many times had he done it? How many times had he come all over his fist with images of you dancing through his thoughts? You squeeze your thighs together at the mere suggestion of it, heat pooling in your core and soaking your panties.

Din shifts slightly, reclining in his chair and spreading his legs wider for you. Your eyes rake from his throat, down to the line of dark hair that trails from his belly button into a neat patch at the base of his hardening cock. Your mouth waters at the sight of it and your tongue darts out, slowly wetting your bottom lip.

“Could you help me out, mesh’la?” he asks, extending his arm to you.

It takes you a moment to realize what he wants but when you do, you shiver. You swirl your tongue around your mouth, collecting your saliva, then you lean forward and spit into his palm.

“Good girl,” he hums and you bite back a whimper at his husky praise.

He wraps his hand around his thick shaft, giving himself a few experimental strokes and smearing your spit over his velvety flesh. He stifles a low groan, gritting his teeth through the feeling of his rough hand gripping his cock. Maker, he wishes it was you so bad.

“Don’t hold back, Din,” you coo, “I wanna hear everything.”

You watch him, a tingling warmth flooding your nervous system, as he slowly strokes himself to full attention. You’d always thought his cock was beautiful — long and thick, curving upwards — deliciously filling, and he uses it well, fucking you to tears and then kissing them away in the dark. He fucks his hand now, the swollen rosy head of his cock disappearing into his fist with each tug. His thumb passes over the leaking tip, collecting the precum, using it to further slick his palm.

A low moan crackles through the modulator of his helmet, sending another swell of arousal straight to your aching centre. He hasn’t even touched you and you’re already drunk on it — warm, and flushed, and fidgety in the copilot’s chair as you watch him. This is what you wanted, right? To watch him make himself come? Now you’re not so sure — your body sings with need, begging for him to touch you.

The obscene, wet squelch of his fist moving over his cock makes your cheeks burn. Your gaze rakes over his body again — his muscles are pulled taut now, flexing as he brings himself closer to release. His bicep swells as he moves his fist up and down his length. Your name tumbles brokenly off his tongue and you whimper at the sound.

“What are you thinking about, Din?”

“You mesh’la,” he moans, “always you.”

He keeps talking as he fucks his fist, voice needy, exposing how desperate he is for you.

“Thinking about your perfect pussy…and how you always take me so fucking well…and, kriff, those pretty sounds you always make.”

His voice grows more ragged as he nears that white hot precipice of pleasure. You can tell he’s getting close by the way his legs tremble and his belly heaves. His grunts get louder, moans longer and breathier. Stars, he’s a sight.

“M’ so wet,” you whine, “you haven’t even touched me and I’ve already ruined my panties.”

A groan rips from his throat at that, “fuck, show— show me.”

You lean back and spread your legs for him, exposing the dark, soaked middle of your panties. He lets out a hoarse, broken cry, jerking himself harshly to the pretty picture in front of him. You wonder what he looks like under the helmet — how does the pleasure contort his mysterious features? Are his eyebrows drawn together? Does he bite his lip ‘til it nearly bleeds? Do his eyes roll back when he comes so hard it makes him see stars?

“After…after, m’gonna get on my knees…and m’gonna — maker, cyare — gonna fuck you with my tongue until my cock is ready for you again…and then m’gonna give you my cock until you forget your name.”

He’s rambling, words nearing incoherent as he works himself up to release. Your own thoughts are beginning to turn fuzzy with need, every inch of your skin burning with arousal. You resist the urge dip your fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, down to rub your aching clit. You want to save that for him now — after he’s indulged you like this, it’s what he deserves.

The movement of his fist grows erratic — sloppy — and his legs begin to twitch. Your own breath catches in your throat as anticipation sinks a claw into your heart.

“Come for me, Din,” you urge, “come for me and I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. You can have me any way you please.”

That’s enough for him and he comes with a raw, strangled moan, spilling down his shaft and onto his knuckles. His body tenses as he pumps himself through it, teasing that fine line between pleasure and overstimulation. Then he goes lax, chest heaving as his thoughts return through the haze.

You barely even give him a moment to recover before you’re on your knees between his legs. He quirks his helmet to the side in curiosity as you take his hand and then lets out a groan when you bring his cum covered fingers to your lips.

You suck two of his fingers into your plush, warm mouth, dragging your tongue across his skin to taste his salty release. His cock twitches at the sinful sight of you and the way your half-lidded eyes feel like they’re burning a hole through his helmet.

“Fuck, sweet girl,” he grits, cupping your cheek with his other hand. He strokes his thumb over your soft skin affectionately, “maker knows what I did to deserve you.”

His visor remains fixed on your face as you clean his fingers with your tongue, licking his pearly white cum off his knuckles. You hum softly and then release them, turning your attention to his spent cock.

He hisses, flinching as you lick a stripe up his shaft. You wrap your lips around his rosy head, groaning at the taste of him, not wanting anything to go to waste. His entire body tenses from overstimulation and his fist flies into your hair, gripping tightly at the roots but not pulling.

“Kriff, are you trying to kill me?” he groans. You can hear the smile pulling at his lips under the helmet.

You release him with a wet pop and press a kiss to his inner thigh, grinning mischievously, “I would never.”

He strokes across your cheekbone again, helmet tilting to the side in what can only be described as an affectionate gesture.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, beckoning you into his lap with a curl of his fingers.

You crawl into the pilot’s chair with him, situating yourself on his firm thighs. His hands skirt under your tank top and smooth up your back, taking in the warmth and softness of your skin. Your fingertips dance up his bare chest and you press your lips lightly to a scar on his collarbone.

You trace the edge of his helmet, eyes meeting that dark visor that gives away nothing, while his body language gives away everything. It’s a silent question you ask now, begging for his lips, begging for the last thing he can offer you. He nods, a quick tilt of his head and you squeeze your eyes shut. You feel him shift, arms rising to remove his helmet. Then you hear him place it on the console and his lips collide with yours.

Sometimes, kissing him is like a gentle breeze on a sunny day, comforting, with a hint of something sweet. Other times, like now, kissing him is like a hurricane — all teeth and desperation, something that consumes. He groans at the taste of himself that still lingers on your tongue as he licks into your mouth.

Your hands immediately find the soft curls at the nape of his neck, twirling them around your fingers as you pull yourself against him. Everything about him makes you dizzy — the way his skin feels, his scent, his touch, and the way he kisses you with a kind of ferocity. You feel like you’re orbiting a star.

You feel his hand move down between your thighs and gasp when you feel his fingers prod at your drenched panties. “So wet,” he hums.

He hooks a finger around the fabric and pulls it to the side before sinking two thick digits easily into your aching cunt.

“Din—” you whine, burying your face into his neck as he curls his fingers to stroke the spot that makes your legs shake.

He loves when you use his name. The sound of it falling from your lips in such reverence gives him a high better than the finest spice credits can buy.

“I can feel how close you are already, cyare,” he murmurs, using his thumb to slowly circle your clit, “all this just from watching me fuck my fist?”

You whimper and nod against his neck. He hums appreciatively as he continues to finger you, drawing you ever closer to ruin.

“It’s your turn, sweet girl, come for me now.”

You do, clinging to him as pleasure overflows from your core and floods your nervous system. Your lower half locks up, legs spasming as he works you over the waves. He coos soft praises into your ear and you still in his arms, panting at the strain of your orgasm.

He runs his hand up and down your back in a comforting motion, ensuring you feel safe here. You lift your head from his shoulder, eyes still closed, and press your lips to his once more. There’s that sweet, gentle breeze — the hazy post-orgasm kisses that warm you from the inside out.

“Keep your eyes closed for me,” he murmurs, shifting out of the pilot’s chair with you still wrapped around him. He reaches for his cape from the neat pile of his belongings in the corner and drapes it over the floor of the cockpit. Then he lays you down gently on top of it. You throw your arm over your eyes, sighing contently as he kisses down your sternum and belly. He taps the side of your thigh and you lift your bum so he can pull off your panties. Your legs fall open and he takes a moment to admire the mess he already made there, your inner thighs glistening with slick and your pretty pussy swollen and begging for more attention.

He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, moving down and nipping at your soft flesh, before delving between your thighs like he’d promised.

Taglist: @holding-on-to-starwars @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @zinzinina @keeper0fthestars @readsalot73 @adancedivasmom @saradika @dinsangelx @dance-dance-sage-revolution @dumplinshee @c4psicle @deadhumourist @littlemisspascal @spideysimpossiblegirl

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x yn #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x yn #the mandalorian x female reader #star wars fanfiction

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coltrainbat · 2 years ago

Text

You’re Mine

Summary: Your FWB Chris Evans likes you more than you think.

Word Count: 2957 Pairing: Chris Evans X plussize!reader / curvy!reader

a/n: First time publishing my work! There’s more if you want it. I saw a gap in the market and wanted to fill it (no pun intended).

Disclaimer: All characters and events written, even those based on real people are entirely fictional are no representation or comment of said characters in real life.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI. 8k filth, sub! kinda, daddy kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, biting, praise kink, rough sex, orgasm, cum play, P in V, horny af!ChrisEvans, dom!Chris, squirting, Boston accent, cellulite, stretch marks

You lay in bed with your FWB of 3 months now, Chris Evans. For some reason now the whole experience was absolutely mortifying to you. You had a normal 9-5 and never thought moving to LA for an amazing work opportunity would lead you to become the anonymous girl who fucks a celebrity on the side. The whole thing was made worse by the fact you started to catch feelings. Your deluded-self lead you to believe you were the girl he was going to somehow ditch the playboy lifestyle for. But you reason that he didn’t exactly help the situation. For his cocky charming on-camera demeanour, Chris was rather reserved, he’d blush when you’d look at him for a little too long, he’d never rush off after one of your racy nights spent in either hotel rooms or his house, he brought you coffee more than once and knew your order by heart. He had depth, seemed genuinely interested when you went on and on about; your work and its inner complexities, your minor conflicts or misadventures in your day, the books you were reading or the artists you adored, your philosophy on life and your insistence that Rick and Morty is the most genius show ever.

But maybe he was just very clever about the way he operated.

Although you noticed how comfortable it got when your toothbrush lived at his sink, your favourite tea was stocked in the cupboard, tampons in the bathroom drawer, the keypad to his house became muscle memory and Dodger would wag his tail and race around your feet whenever you walked in.

And Chris noticed it to, a pair of your underwear in his laundry, a strand of hair on his sweater, the intoxicating scent of your perfume on his pillow. He’d chuckle to himself at the recent memory of you, inhaling the pillow with force.

At first, it was comical, this dirty secret you kept from everyone, family, best friends, roommates. You’d walk out of a club from a late night, a smug smirk on your face, after getting that routine call from Chris at 3am, growling on the phone for you to get your ass to his. You’d wish everyone a brief farewell and book an uber to his house.

The security who manned the fort into the gated community knew you by name now. Giving a terse smile as they held in a major Hollywood secret. You always thought about if whether there were other girls who’d come on other nights? What did they look like? Did security remember their names as well? They probably had a log titled “CHRIS EVANS FUCKBUDDIES” with all our names and numbers, maybe even a numbering as well, if one girl got too cocky and showed up unannounced so they knew “who to send away” or “Who to not let in if one was already in” you thought to yourself one night as you said hello through the rolled down backseat window.

Of course, this was all a theory in your head, to keep you grounded to the reality of the situation, you weren’t special, and he was using you just as much as you him for some good fun and a cool story to tell the grandkids. You kept it straight during the periods you weren’t together; you’d only ever come when he asked, he always texted or called first. Yet, he made it difficult with the sporadic Dodger video or a selfie of him on set. You rationalised he would do a mass message and they weren’t personal.

The anxiety built up as you played ping pong in your head with the idea of him. You grew tense under his touch, he forearms draped over your waist, supporting his weight with his other arm as he hovered to his side, slightly shadowing over you. He was tracing the outline of your lace bra, generously stretched by the sheer mass of your FF breasts, they were real but didn’t sit up perfectly without support like the fake ones do. They sagged lightly down your chest with a gap separating them down the middle, you hated how you had to push them together with endless supports to get them to be friends and show the truth effect of their mass.

His hands then trailed down to your stomach, using your protruding stretch marks as a road for his fingers. He dipped into the crevices of your rolls smoothing along your skin down the path to where your belly curved outwards like a protruding pregnant lady hanging just so lightly over your public bone so you could still see the tips of toes looking down. His hand gliding along your thigh, finger pads landing softly in the dimples of your cellulite.

You didn’t hate your body by any means taking any chance to show off your luscious curves in tight clothes. But you were often taken aback by Chris’s interest in it. Of course, you stalked him, read the gossip sites, knew his type, the ones you could crush in an instant if you put your weight on them. They all worked in the industry, talented singers, models, or actresses. You didn’t understand the months away on set or crazy schedules. You weren’t that but he wanted it anyways.

“What’s up sugar?” He said in his thick Boston accent, hoping to get a smile out of you. You never had a good poker face and the scowl on your face thinking of his exes was probably obvious. But what right did you have to get jealous or ask? With your budding feelings you didn’t see it a good idea to get into deep and end up heartbroken by an A-Lister. You patted the sheets next to you, looking lazily to your empty side, sighing in response “Oh nothing… was just thinking how many other girls get to sleep in this bed?” you trailed off, avoiding eye contact.

Chris looked shocked and when you looked up to his eyes you could see a little hurt behind them as his mouth curved into a hesitant smile,

C: “None actually.”

Y/N: “Oh really?” you feigned in a shocked manner.

C: “Yes, really… you’re the only one and frankly, I’m happy with that.” He responded in a matter-of-fact tone.

Y/N: “I don’t believe it.”

C: “What’s not to believe?”

Y/N: “Why don’t we take a look at your exes for one.”

C: “Haha fine… they were nothing like you I can tell you that much.”

Y/N: “But that’s the point, Chris, they are nothing like me, they look nothing like me!” The insecurity in your voice pinged. C: “Yes correct, and that’s why they’re my exes, the public ones at least”.

It set in, that this was a classic case of good enough to fuck but not skinny enough to show off publicly you heart broke a little at the thought. You didn’t feel like a good secret anymore.

C: “Every single one lacked what you have that’s why I’m in bed with you and not them and I can even tell you why.”

He took your phone, googling “Complete Chris Evans relationship history”

“God, I feel like such a douche typing that.” he chuckled handing you the phone.

He perched himself on the chair beside the bed, his bare chest on display, the tattoos on his pecks barely peeking out behind his crossed form arms, veins protruding down the length. His hairy legs cross over as he leans back, a smirk planted on his face.

You scrolled to number one,

Y/N: “Ok here, Jessica Alba, 6 years!! What happened there?”

C: “I was young, stupid, didn’t want to settle, she’s married now, I’m with you, case closed.”

Satisfied with that answer you moved onto the next one…

Y/N: “Minka Kelly, 6 years, broke up once.”

He scoffed at the mention,

C: “If it didn’t work the first time, it’s not gonna work the second time then it’s definitely not going to work a third time.”

You went on.

Y/N: “Christina Ricci?”

C: “One-night stand, shit happens, wouldn’t do that again too old.” He chuckled.

Y/N: “Jenny?”

C: “Mid-life crisis, next.”

You were becoming less sure about your womaniser theory as the realisation of Chris’ actions set in. Maybe you weren’t another girl? Maybe all this pushing away and distance done to protect your heart wasn’t the best way to go about finding out if someone likes you or not.

Y/N: “Hmmm ok but what about Alba?”

This one was the closest in dates to you and she was exactly your opposite.

With his elbow now resting on his knee and his hand to his mouth, he quickly made a flinging motion, “small fling didn’t trust her.”

“Ok well...” You didn’t get to finish before Chris rolled his eyes, ripping the phone out of your hand in a swift motion, tossing it across the bed.

He crawled towards you on the bed, pinning you to the mattress, trapping you in between his arms as his palms pressed into the bed, nuzzling his prickly, 2-day old shave against your neck.

Your gasp at the sudden action was quickly followed by a light giggle at the tickling sensation on your sensitive spot.

“All you gotta know is that right now and hopefully for a long time to come you’re the only girl I want in my bed.” He purred in your ear.

“Why’s that Evans?” You egged, needing all the reassurance you could get right now.

“Oh, you want to go fishing now do you? Alright fine let’s go fishing!” he challenged in a tone much louder than his soft whisper before you, you squealed as he grabbed your hands pinning them above your head. As he pecked your sensitive neck with wet kisses.

With every soft kiss on your neck, he’d follow with:

“You’re funny”

kiss

“You’re witty”

kiss

“So incredibly clever” he trailed

Kiss, kiss, kiss

“Fucking sexy”

A long suckle of your neck

“And these, omg god these fucking tits will be the death of me”

He moaned as he buried his head into the valley your breasts.

He trailed his kisses back up to your neck towards your mouth but stopping short pulling back to take in the sight of you. Your lips slightly agape, hair lying in a mess on the pillow, your pale chest flushed with redness from the sudden assault.

“And that smile, every time I catch it, I think I fall a little more in love with you.” Your heart skipped at the sudden confession.

His eyes fell darker as he looked down at your plump lips, placing a soft kiss that made your breath catch in your throat.

You quickly regained yourself as he pulled away, letting the silence of the moment sit between you two first, “I don’t think you’re too bad either Christopher.” you smirked.

He delved the kiss deeper, as his tongue tried to travel down your throat, savouring the taste of you.

He roughly grabbed your waist, trying to pull every inch of you closer to him. His knee went between your legs, spreading your thighs with his force. His hand snaked towards your core as he beckoned his fingers around your panties. You raised your ass to assist as he raced to slide your panties off your thick legs and gorgeous calves. He kissed from your big toe all the way to your inner thigh, taking his time as he sucked, nibbled, and licked at your fleshy skin, leaving red marks fading in your porcelain skin. You moaned at the heat from his mouth giving you goosebumps on your skin. His placed his long tongue flat onto your seeping heat. Clasping his mouth onto your thick lip, suckling on the thick flesh, savouring in your musty cunt.

He cooed between your thick thighs,

“This is my pussy and my pussy only baby.”

“Give daddy all your juices baby.”

You withered under his tough, trying to squirm under his forceful grasp at your thighs, forearms wrapping around your delicious thick ass barely managing to make his fingertips reach your inner thigh due to their mass.

He continued his assault on your sensitive core, but you yearned for his thick member, to feel his heartbeat through his cock pulsate inside of you. Never have you so badly wanted to feel the gush of creamy cum fill up your hole.

“Daddy… please... I need it.” you moaned, pulling at the root of his fluffy hair, stirring a muffled moan from him.

“Hmm what was that baby… you want your cock?”

Your. Cock.

He was all yours, he wanted you just as badly, knowing he had finally worked up the balls to go for the girl he’d always needed and wanted.

He had been such a coward before, he feared the stability that came from settling, unable to fathom that at his age he found his perfect woman – too good to be true but he couldn’t bare to push her away.

He stressed whenever she didn’t reply, anxiety that he fucked it and you’d want nothing to do with him.

He thought you were too good for this lifestyle, you deserved privacy and protection, a normal life, but God knows it’s a crime to deny anyone else from seeing someone that beautiful.

And now he’d have to share her with world, worry that they won’t see what he does and will tear you down to a shadow of yourself, or you have every man and his wife thirsting over her, guys younger than him, who don’t have grey specks in their beard and newspapers calling him the “Eternal Playboy”.

He hated that title, fuck does he worry that you would brush him aside feeling like he’d treat you any less than you’d deserve.

He was never going to let you for a second doubt that he wasn’t grateful to have you.

He grabbed his thick member in his hand, rubbing over the tip, not like he needed more lube your cunt was literally pouring, and he hadn’t even made you cum yet.

Rubbing his swollen tip against your wet entrance, he loved watching your squirm and squeal under his touch.

“Open your eyes baby, I want you to see me stretch out that tight, fat pussy.”

You popped your head up meeting eye to eye with Chris, his mouth on yours. He motioned his eyes between you two, his cock slowly moves between your folds.

The force of his head breaking against your walls. You’d fucked many times before, but you were still getting use to his sheer size. But when he bottomed up on your cervix it’s like his cock was made for you - filling every each, on your hole.

He spent a moment just stagnant inside of you, wanting to savour the heat of your cunt, the feeling of you beneath him, just his.

“Please Chris… daddy… fuck me I need it.”

“Yeah baby… does that kitty want daddy?” Without warning he started his vigorous thrusts.

The aggressive thrust caused you to move up and down the silk sheets, your moans getting jaggered. You managed to choke out a daddy here and then, but Chris was doing all the talking:

"Yeah, you like that cock baby? That’s your cock, all yours baby.” As he continued hitting your cervix.

His hand reached down, determined to make you cum, as his thumb whirled around your swollen clit.

He bowed his head, his mouth open, popping a nipple into his mouth as he bit the nib ever so slightly to cause a sudden jerk reaction. He sucked on your nipple and swirled his tongue around your big areolas. Loving the surface, he could cover with his tongue.

You felt the coil in your stomach tighten as the heat rose from your canal. Chris felt your walls tighten around him knowing you were close.

"You gonna squirt for me baby? Come on... come on your cock baby, only you can cum on daddy’s cock... God you’re so good for me baby. “

With the final verbal encouragement, Chris gave you all the praise you needed to release on his cock, knowing after this you will have to change the sheets. You soak through them pushing Chris out with the gust of liquid flowing out of you.

“God baby… we are gonna have to get you a squirt blanket.” He chuckled shoving his cock back in… he wasn’t done with you yet.

His thrusts became sloppy and less catered to you. His grip had tightened on your hips, snaking both his hands to grab the heavenly plump bounds that was your ass as his nails dug into the flesh. His eyes were shut and his face scrunched up, pink lips parted as he focuses on his orgasm. Enjoying the feeling your pussy gives you.

“Oh fuck!” he twitched inside of you. “Are you close daddy? hmm? ready to fill me up with my cock?” You egged on his impending orgasm impatient to feel him inside of you, he twitched more as you continued. “That’s its daddy… cum for me.” Chris twitched for the last time and exploded inside you, his seed filling your hole, you wanted to always have him in you. You loved this feeling. He collapsed on you relaxing his weight onto your curvy body. Enjoying the built-in pillows, he has now all to himself. Once you knew he was done you tried to move away from his tight grip.

He muffled into your boobs “Don’t move… I want my kids in you.” You blushed at the thought.

“I love you so fucking much.” he leaned up and kissed you.

“I love you too.” Finally letting you move.

#chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x curvy!reader #chris evans x curvy reader #chris evans x plussize!reader #chris evans smut #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans headcanon #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans daddy #daddy chris evans #chris evans imagines #chris evans x you

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 4 years ago

Text

lesson

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: smut, masterbation, daddy mentions, heavy degradation and humiliation (lots of sluts and whores) but also some good girls !! teasing (so much teasing), orgasm denial/edging, choking, bondage, cum play (so also unprotected sex), pussy play (including spanks and cock thumping), pillow humping (for like a second), spitting, panty fucking, harry has a very dirty mind, please, only 18+ !!

word count: 6.4k

synopsis: he only has one rule, and she still can’t seem to follow it (or in which harry teaches y/n a lesson)

author’s note: hello! this took a little longer than i expected, so thank you for being patient with me! this is absolute, pure, unadulterated filth (absolutely no fluffiness about this—be proud for me) please, note the warnings and don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything mentioned above (that’s why i put them there :)) xx

masterlist

—

Y/N’s heart races in her ears as she scrubs at her hands, foamy soap slipping down her wrists in her haste. Harry calls for her downstairs, the front door slamming shut, shaking the house. She can’t find her voice just yet, traces of a stolen orgasm lingering in her tired body. The sheets are crumpled from her quick highs, and her legs are weak. She feels giddy, despite the odd numbness that seeps into her bones. She finally feels fulfilled after a long day of insatiable throbbing between her legs.

Clad in a simple tee and underwear, she steps out of their bathroom when he finally gets up to their bedroom. She dries her hands off, eucalyptus, mint, and other artificial scents lingering. She’s still catching her breath.

“Hey, babe,” she smiles, just like she does every time he gets back home, but there’s something behind it that’s unfamiliar, a devilish hint.

It’s her eyes that give her away.

They’ve been together long enough for him to know what she looks like after she comes, her shaky legs, dopey smile, and glazed over eyes. The mischievous glint is different, however.

“How was your—”

“How many times?”

“What?” She tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed innocently. It angers him; it actually makes his chest tight, and he has to bite his cheek to keep from snapping. She has the nerve to act as if nothing is wrong. Lip tucked between teeth, she steps forward, hands splayed in front of her. An unfamiliar feeling bubbles in his stomach. Not quite possessiveness but certainly close, this feeling is akin to lust and indignation, and it melts into a pool of gluttonous desire.

Normally, he takes a step back to collect his thoughts when he’s this emotionally invested, but it’s difficult when she looks so tempting, so divine, so satisfied. Fresh faced with a cheeky grin, she beckons him, imploring him to punish her, challenging him to ruin her.

He stalks forward, their gazes never faltering, until she falls onto the bed, still looking at him innocently.

“How many times did you make yourself come?”

His words bite, but she looks indifferent, the glazed look in her eyes taunting him. She doesn’t answer, but then again, she knows that she doesn’t need to. He cups her throat, so tender, pliable, and exposed, and he can feel her swallow thickly.

“I’ll ask again. How many times?”

She stares at him, jaw set and ready to hold her own. It’s different from her usual demeanor. No matter how bratty she would act, she easily fell into her submissive headspace, answering his questions obediently and listening to him eagerly. She doesn’t seem to want to break that easily today. Instead of her usual shy and shameful glaces at her hands, she sits up fully, looking him dead in the eyes, and grins, a twisted little smirk that makes his stomach curl and his cock grow thick. She wants to play a game, but it seems that she has forgotten that he is the one in charge. His fingers tighten around her throat, pressing into the spots beneath her jaw that leave her vision hazy.

“Only once,” she says sweetly, albeit weakly from her grip on her neck.

Lies.

He knows that.

She knows that he knows that, but maybe a part of her just wants him to piss him off.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snaps. “How many times?”

His patience is wearing thin, and this game, this teasing, is getting out of hand. She thinks that she can have an advantage over him, while still playing the submissive. Someone needs to put her in her place.

“Almost three times,” she admits finally, sinking back. He finally lets go of her neck, and she holds the spot where his hand once was, vexing eyes yearning for his touch. He cocks a brow.

“Almost? Did I interrupt the third?”

“Yes,” she whines. That’s when he notices her thighs pressing tight together, and she shifts on the bed.

“Does daddy not please you, babylove? You need to touch your princess parts because daddy doesn’t make you feel good anymore.”

Filled with hurt, his words seem to get to her. The familiar docile look in her eyes slips in, and her lips sink into a pout. She’s drinking from the palm of his hand.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t touch you anymore—”

“No,” she cries, sinking further into her headspace. “But—daddy, you left this morning,” she says, her lips pouting.

That’s true.

The night before, she was his soft babylove, who just wanted to be as close to him as possible, be held and comforted and loved. That’s how he awoke this morning: warm with his cock soft inside her. He kissed her awake, as she deserved, and even though he felt comfortable simply being wrapped in her warmth, he needed to taste her. He was slow with his movements, languidly licking along her lips until wetness coated her thighs, teasingly sucking on her clit until she was trembling, wanting to build up the pleasure.

Admittedly, he had to rush out before she could finish and go to a meeting regarding his upcoming tour. He had quite the time trying to hide his semi for the better part of the morning.

“And I was feeling achy,” she continues rambling; the poor thing is close to tears. He feels for his pretty girl, he truly does, but he pushes that aside. A part of him feels hurt, like she couldn’t trust him to take care of her when he came home. Harry doesn’t ask much. She can be as bratty as she wants to, purposefully teasing him when they’re in public or refusing to do the simplest of requests, but he just asks that she let him take care of her.

She couldn’t even give him that courtesy.

“Don’t make excuses,” he scoffs. “I thought you were a big girl.”

“I am,” she promises.

“Big girls wait for daddy to come home and help them come,” he says, stroking her cheek. Tender touches mask his true intent. He suddenly shoves her back, hand tight to her throat once again, and she gasps, head tilting back into their pillows.

“Naughty girls touch themselves. Whores come almost three times at their own hand.” He grits his teeth. “Are you a whore?”

She doesn’t answer, but he can feel her heart racing beneath his grasp. A glimpse of a smile is enough to let him know that she’s fine; she’s enjoying herself, seeing him so riled up, possessive, and ravenous.

“Are you still wet? Achy?”

She nods.

“Whores get wet when they’re in trouble,” he says offhandedly. Her body quivers at the malice dripping from his tongue. “Arms up.”

She does as told, holding onto the headboard, eagerly awaiting his next demand. This is what she wanted, after all.

She has no idea what’s coming.

Usually, whatever punishment he gives her is what she also enjoys, from the occasional spanking to overstimulation. He usually has her coming until she can’t take anymore, until an ache seeps into the bliss.

Not this time.

He tugs her shirt up and over her head while his other hand fiddles in their bedside drawer. Moments later, a pair of silk scarves tie her hands to the headboard.

“Not too tight?”

She tugs on the restraints and shakes her head.

“Color?”

“Green.” She beams, breaking character for a moment.

Even if they were in the midst of a deep fantasy, he has always made a point to make sure she knows that it's alright to voice any discomfort and vice-versa; she often asks for his color whenever he seems to be overwhelmed. They both know how volatile headspaces can be, with the slightest changes making a huge difference in the experience.

He runs his nose along hers, lips tracing along the curves of her face, nibbling teasingly at her chin, down her neck, and grinds himself against her. He sucks on her breasts, biting at her nipples until they’re peaked. She closes her eyes, savoring every spike of bitter pleasure he has to offer. He sits back after a moment, appreciating the glimpse of light that catches her wet skin. He palms himself.

“It’s only fair that I get to come three times since you did. Make us even, right, lovie?”

“But I only made myself come twice.”

Y/N really has the nerve to talk back to him with her hands tied to the headboard, her body exposed to him, the only thing covering her modesty a flimsy pair of underwear. He cocks his head to the side.

“Should we make it four?”

That makes her hesitate, sinking back in the sheets. She shakes her head, cute pouty lips puckering. He would love nothing more than to run his cock along that pretty, dirty mouth, to feel her greedy tongue tracing the underside of him lazily, to wrap his hand around her throat and feel it expand as he fucks her face.

But he knows that she would enjoy it too much.

Too much for a punishment.

Harry traces along the curves of her features, from the slope of her nose to the round of her cheek, soft and lingering, a harsh contrast of what’s to come. He smirks. She parts her lips like a good girl when his thumb passes over them, biting it teasingly. He, then, drags it down her chin, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake.

He can’t help but think about how pretty she would look with cum and spit dribbling from those sinful lips, eyes barely able to stay open. Fucked beyond belief, she would moan his name and other incoherent thoughts oh-so sweetly, her voice wrecked. His grateful babylove, his lovely, satiated Y/N would whisper a soft thank you after taking him so well. He truly wishes he could do that, give her anything she ever desired, make her feel euphoria like never before, a high no one other than him can give her, but she was greedy and naughty and misbehaving.

And she needs to learn a lesson.

Now, he has to tease her, to bring her to the brink of orgasm, only to shatter her, again and again, until she’s on the brink of tears. She’s going to be left unsatisfied, trembling beneath him, while he brings himself to orgasm, again and again, until he’s milked himself dry. She will be grateful if he gives her even a bit of pleasure, but it is not enough to push her to the end.

It would never be enough.

He leans in close, his lips a fleeting embrace, just past her reach. He wants to taste her, but he needs to be patient.

A warmth buries her, and his overwhelmingly familiar scent swallows her, safe and comforting. She doesn’t know she’s even pulling on her restraints until her fingers are numb and tingly, yearning to feel his skin.

Maybe this was a bad idea, but it’s too late to turn back now.

“You can beg and plead all you want,” he says, “but know this: you will not be coming again tonight.”

Her eyes darken, and a satisfied little grin graces her pretty face.

She got what she wanted, tied up and vulnerable to him.

However, this isn’t her game anymore.

Now, she’s at his utter mercy.

“And if you do come, somehow, I will not touch you for a week; not only will you not feel my cock, my fingers, or my tongue, there will be no kisses or cuddles. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s my good girl.”

He unbuttons his shirt, slowly, diligently, his fingers lingering a little long on his inked stomach, knowing that she likes to take her time and admire that part specifically. After he peels the button up away, he finally sits next to her on the bed, his back to her. His belt falls to the floor with a clatter, and she holds her breath.

The silence is deafening, thick with tension. She waits, knowing that patience will help her. She also knows better than to say anything, since it would probably worsen her current predicament. Harry has always been level-headed, even in his dominant headspace, being very patient, especially in trying circumstances. He can take a lot before he snaps. She usually has to beg him to slap her, to spit in her mouth, or to fuck her so hard her legs give out.

This new persona is unpredictable, new, and alluring.

It’s different and all the more arousing.

She shifts, the bed frame creaking. A feeling of naughtiness courses through her, as it did earlier. She wants to see how much she can get away with and how far she can go before he loses control and puts her in her place. She watches him closely, her breathing ragged. She drags a pillow up by her feet, and Harry pays her no mind, perhaps assuming she’s just getting comfortable. His shoulders shift as he nimbly undoes the buttons to his pants, his back muscles tightening and relaxing. He begins taking off his pants, billowy and undoubtedly expensive fabric slipping down one leg at a time slowly, meticulously. The pillow now nestled between her legs, she grinds her hips down, wishing it was his thigh, the one with tiger on it, bared teeth and hungry.

He turns suddenly, and she’s caught yet again, but she doesn’t stop. Instead, she works herself harder, imploring him to stop her—to punish her. The pillow does very little to satiate the pent up tension between her legs, but it’s better than nothing.

Honestly, she knew he was going to catch her in her lies. That's why she made herself come right before he got home. She wants to get caught, the thrill of going against his rules giving her a high she’s still coming down from. And as he looks at her again, fury in his eyes, she could just fall apart. She wants him to put her in her place, punish her for being a naughty, filthy brat.

She wants him to ruin her.

“No,” he growls, ripping the pillow away and effectively knocking her legs back apart. He slaps her pussy with little warning. She squeaks, tugging at the silken restraints. A shaky, guttural moan shutters from her chest, deep and desperate, and her head falls back into the mattress.

“Fuck,” she cries.

The skin of her swollen pussy burns in the most addicting way, leaving her legs spasming, feet slipping down the sheets. She can feel his rings through her panties, just a slight sting, but her clit takes a brunt of the force, and perhaps, that’s what makes it so good.

“No moving.”

He rubs her soothingly, a stark contrast to the fire behind his eyes. Despite how bratty she’s been, her sweet, attentive Harry is still there, making sure she’s taken care of, comfortable, and safe. Her needy hips chase his fingers, a broken plea on the tip of her tongue.

Again.

He twists her panties with his index finger until her puffy pussy swallows them, the swell of her mound bulging from the tight elastic bands. He smacks her again, a little more gentle this time, but hard enough to still make her toes curl. She laughs through a breathy moan, her heart racing. He tsks, mumbling under his breath.

“This is your punishment. You’re not supposed to be enjoying it.” He tugs her panties up tight to her clit. “You’ll take anything I give you. Won’t you? I could spit on you and call you a bitch, and you’ll say thank you. Right, babylove?”

He delivers another resounding slap to her cunt, and then, another for good measure. This time, her back arches from the mattress, eyes rolling back. Fire licks her skin, and it hurts, no doubt, but in such a way that's indescribable; it burns, but it spreads throughout her whole body, and it makes her limbs tingly and warm, yearning for more. Again, he runs his hand along her exposed mound to ease the ache.

“Thank you,” she moans, and he smiles. He spanks her poor pussy raw, again and again, until his hand hurts and her arousal drips onto the sheets. Her thighs threaten to close, but she digs her feet into the mattress, aching for more pain, more pleasure, just more. Her world spins, but at the center of it all is him—striking eyes, teasing smile, and pretty lips—and he’s all hers.

“Taking it so well, pretty girl,” he says, moving to kneel between her spread legs. He can feel the wetness through her panties, and he nudges his head around where her clit is, still blocked by her useless underwear, her pussy visibly tightens with anticipation. He leans back, still close enough to feel the heat from her, and he slips his cock under her panties, the tight, elastic band pulling at his tender skin while her lips massage the underside. She’s wet, perhaps from her orgasms from earlier, but likely from the spanking. He thrusts, wrapped in soaked panties, until the tip of his cock nudges the fabric at the top of her mound, and he twitches when the underwear pulls at the sensitive head in a certain way.

“Such a naughty girl,” he moans, thumbs pulling at the fabric to wrap tighter around his cock. “I’m only fucking your panties, and you’re already soaked.”

He pulls out reluctantly, his cock heavy on her wet underwear. He spits on the fabric and spreads it over her mound, just to tease her little more. She tugs at her restraints and whines from the sudden cold.

A drop of saliva slips past his puckered lips, landing on his open palm, which now cradles his cock. He hasn’t resorted to jerking himself off in a long time; he hasn’t needed to, but he works himself easily, finding a calculated rhythm, fast then slow, quick, eager strokes along the head then long, languid strokes along the entire length. He sits on his heels, and his legs ache from the weight. Her thighs twitch, and she pulls at the restraints. His balls brush against her mound with every movement of his hand, and he swears he can feel her jump with every movement, so sensitive, so responsive. He fucks his fist, hips unconsciously bucking, wishing it is her warmth that coats him, squeezes him, and pulls him in. He yearns to touch her, to feel her smooth skin, but he knows that this lack of physical touch is as difficult for her to bear as it is for him, and that makes it a little better.

Her chest heaves with unsteady breaths, eyes fixated on his hand working his cock. She pulls futilely at the scarves, until her wrists hurt. She knows that she’s not going to be able to get out, but she unconsciously reaches for him. She’s not used to being so exposed, body vulnerable to his gaze, without having him touch her. Sure, their thighs are pressed tight together, but it’s not nearly enough.

This isn’t what she thought was going to happen when she broke his rules. Truly, more so than usual, this is a punishment: to see him work himself to orgasm without being able to touch him. She wishes she was the one to make him squirm, moan, and come.

“Please,” she whines, eyes pleading with him, and he knows what she’s begging for.

“What? You think I want to touch a dirty little brat like you?”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean? I came home, hoping to spend a nice evening with my good girl, only to find out that she broke my rule,” he says. “My one rule.”

He wishes it was her hand stroking him, eager eyes and tempting smile staring back at him. It would feel so much better than his own calloused fist. He feels himself tighten to signal an impending end, weak but an end nonetheless.

“I wanted nothing more than to come home and to have you come on my tongue more times than you can count, but you couldn’t be patient, and now, you have to take your punishment.”

She twists and squirms beneath him, her body undulating on the sheets. The need that tugs on her features is almost enough to break him, to make him give in and make his pretty girl come on his face, but then he remembers that scheming smile she had on her face, that devious look that made him rife with lust. He remembers that she was on this very bed by herself just before he got home, making herself come, her head thrown back, whining and whimpering. The thought brings the fire back.

He cups her cheek and leans forward, stretching her legs apart, and his cock rests just above her belly button, still cupped in his hand. Her tongue dips out of her mouth. His eager, naughty girl waits for him to spit in her mouth, to shove his ringed fingers down her throat, to do anything, but he pulls back again, and she frowns.

“How did you do it? Did you use your fingers, baby?”

She nods pitifully, and he hums, his strokes quick.

“Yeah? Bet they weren’t as good as mine.” He runs his thumb along the head, pleasure sending chills down his spine, trying to prolong his buildup.

“No one’s fingers will ever be as good as mine.”

He wants to prove it to her, to pound his fingers inside her until she can barely breathe, arousal gushing down his wrist as she comes until she’s crying. He wants to kiss her tears away as she begs for more. Perhaps, with all the teasing and build-up, he could get her to come with just one finger with one well-placed thrust. Her hips buck, and he knows that she’s thinking about that, too. After the stolen orgasm from earlier and the burning spanks her poor pussy received, she must be desperate for anything he’ll give to her.

His orgasm builds quickly, with his thoughts running amuck, visions of her, on her knees before him, choking on him until tears stream down her cheeks, on her back, moaning while he pounds into her, on top of him, grinding down on him, not letting up because she just loves the feeling of him deep inside her belly.

He comes on her tummy, a broken moan slipping past his bitten lips, spurts of his seed stain her pretty skin, and her breath hitches, shocked at the sudden warmth; then, she hums contentedly.

“There,” he sighs, admiring his work.

“Thought you were gonna come three times,” she says softly as he steps off the bed, sore cock heavy between his legs. His knees tremble.

“Open,” he coos, slipping his fingers in her mouth, and she sucks away the remnants of his orgasm. He smooths out her brow with his free hand, brushing away a bead of sweat that sunk from her hairline.

“Who said I’m done with you? No, I’m gonna go shower, and you’re going to stay there with my cum on your tummy and think about what you’ve done.”

He kisses her nose, just like he does every morning after loving on her. It’s a sweet gesture, one that doesn’t match his demeanor. He leaves her there, like he said he would, tied up as he moves to the bathroom, shoulders pushed back, self-assured and composed. Harry steps into the steaming shower, washing away the sweat from his skin.

Y/N whimpers in the next room. She has given up on tugging at the silk scarves; instead, she’s trying to ignore the insatiable throbbing between her legs, her arousal slipping out onto her thighs, like a greedy slut. His words ring in her ears, and it makes the arousal worsen.

She rubs her thighs together to alleviate some pressure, but it’s little use. Perhaps, if she tests him just a little more, he’ll throw away all willpower and ravish her until the early morning hours, but her resolve weakens with every passing minute. She wanted to tease him a bit, maybe get him a little mad, so he would put her in her place. She wanted him to fuck her to oblivion, until she can’t keep her eyes open.

This is a different kind of punishment, one she’s never even considered. In her fantasies, she’s tied up and vulnerable, but he lavishes her with touch until she’s overstimulated, drunk on him, his scent, his touch, his voice.

This is a different kind of punishment, a true punishment in her eyes. The teasing, lingering touches is enough to make her burst, and to have him there but just beyond her reach is near painful.

His cum has nearly dried on her belly, and she wishes he came inside her, stuffed full of his warmth; at least, then, she wouldn’t be so cold, so exposed.

She perks when he steps out of the bathroom, and he wastes no time straddling her hips, his cock twitching against her tummy. The weight of his body on hers is suffocating, her overstimulated senses taking him in, his warmth, his touch, his scent. She can feel every ridge of his body, every drop of water that slips from his clean skin, everything.

It’s almost too much all at once.

“Color?”

She blinks.

“Daddy, please,” she whispers, “want you to fill me up. ‘M such a greedy cock slut. I won’t even come, promise—”

“Y/N, I need you to tell me what color,” he says.

He doesn’t usually use her name when they’re this far into the fantasy, but it seems she needs it now.

“Green,” she breathes out. “Green, green, you feel so good, H. ‘M sorry I touched myself; I just couldn’t help it. Wanna make you feel good, please.”

“I wanna believe you, baby.” He cups her cheek, cold water dripping from his hair and melting into her skin. He takes her in, relishing in the sight of her craving, trembling, and begging for his touch. He likes seeing her on edge like this, dangerously close to teetering off into oblivion.

“But I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”

He traces the head of his red cock along the seams of her panties, like he did earlier, but this time, he tugs her underwear aside, mouth watering at the sight of her pretty, puffy pussy, surely sore from the spanking earlier. He spits on her, and he watches as it slips down into her most intimate fold. She’s so responsive to the slightest touch. He spreads her open, lips parted to reveal her wanton pussy. He tugs back the hood of her button, hard and throbbing.

He slaps his cock against her clit, the skin tacky with his spit. The slight, sudden touch is electrifying, and it makes his cock twitch, hungry for more. He can see her tighten up, and her hips jolt. Shivers trail from her spine to the tips of her peaked nipples. He thumps the head of his cock on her clit quickly, concurrent with every keen thrust of her hips, spitting in her every so often, leaving her wet and swollen and filthy, just like she is.

“Thank you,” she whimpers. “Feels so good, daddy.”

He teases the head of his cock just past her lips and nestles himself inside her finally, her warmth swallowing him easily. His eyes flutter closed, savoring what he so desperately needed.

She breathes out sharply when he stops with just the head inside her. This teasing is almost becoming too much.

“More,” she whimpers, “Please?”

He looks at her with fire in his eyes.

“No, you don’t tell me what to do. Besides, I don’t think you deserve my cock.”

She could almost cry. He’s so close, but he won’t go any further, just teasing her with what could have been. She tries to pull him in deeper, her walls tightening around his head. It makes his toes curl, burning pleasure forming in his belly. She tries to pull him in, aching for just a little more. He holds her hips down to keep her from moving.

“Please, I’ve been good. I said I was sorry for making myself come. I’ll never do it again, promise. Please, I just wanna feel you, daddy. That’s all I wanted today.”

“This isn’t about you anymore, babylove. You’re just daddy’s little fucktoy, my little cock slut.” He thrusts slightly, the tender head dragging along her tight opening, never pushing further. “And right now, I wanna hear you cry for my cock.”

Her feet trail up his legs, knees hooked at his hips, frantically trying to pull him in entirely. She tried to be good; she asked him nicely to just fuck her already. At this point, she doesn’t even want to come. She just wants to feel him, to alleviate at least some of the pressure throbbing between her legs. It’s humiliating because she’s near tears, desperate for his cock.

He came not even fifteen minutes ago, and he’s still sensitive. He pulls back until the head is nestled just past her entrance, muscles tight around the tip. He jerks off the base of his cock for more stimulation. A part of the pleasure comes from watching her squirm; she’s so desperate as she yanks at her restraints, hips thrusting and pussy clenching to pull him in deeper. It’s such an odd sensation, her entrance being fairly sensitive, but it’s not enough to stimulate her.

It’s never enough.

“Maybe you’ll come just by the feeling of my cum inside you.”

She honestly might.

The skin of his cock drags back and forth along her sensitive walls as he jerks himself off inside her.

“I bet you will,” he grins. “Just remember, if you come, I will not touch you for a week. Be very careful, Y/N.”

She wiggles pitifully, her arousal dripping down his shaft, and he uses it as lubricant.

“I bet your poor little clit is throbbing,” he teases. “‘M so sorry, babylove.”

He’s not.

There’s a wicked smile that splits his face.

He pulls out suddenly, making her gasp, and thumps his cock some more on her pussy, landing a particularly rough blow to the sensitive part of her exposed clit, puffy with arousal, the hood stretched back.

“Please, daddy,” she whimpers, “more. I’ve been good. I won’t do it again.”

He gives her some more, dragging himself along her fold in languid motions, circling around her clit before he thumps his cock on her pretty little button. She squeaks.

He stuffs himself inside again, just like before with only the head inside her. She groans, tightening up. It’s as if her body has a mind of its own, clenched and frenzied for any type of stimulation. She squeezes him so tightly, and she fights against his hold on her hips.

He comes shortly after, his body curling into itself like it usually does when he has a particularly strong orgasm, back arching with every wave.

Y/N moans when his cum fills her, reaching deep inside her, and her walls clench with need. It’s barely anything, but it’s still more than what he was giving to her before, and she could honestly come from that little bit alone. She’s trying to regain her composure, cunt still throbbing. He kisses her face, like he usually does after he comes, a gentle reminder that he’s still her Harry. He massages her waist, lingering down to her hips. They bask in each others’ warmth, trying to find the energy to move.

That’s normal for him, sweet and mushy and loving.

What she doesn’t expect is him tightening his hold on her hips and thrusting himself fully inside her, his cock still weeping out remnants of his orgasm.

She would scream if she could, but the breath is knocked from her lungs, choked moans passing through clenched teeth. Animalistic and brutal, Harry sets a quick pace, her entire body moving with the power behind his thrusts. Her mind is blank, and her body hums, pleasurable vibrations coursing through her body to every single nerve. She forgets that she isn’t allowed to come, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about the consequences just yet. Finally, she can taste the bittersweet euphoria, making her world dizzy as he fills her again and again. She could almost cry with utter relief.

Yes, yes, this is what she wanted—no, needed—and it’s even better than she dreamt. Her sopping pussy takes him easily, reaching the neediest part of her. She spreads herself further, angling her knees to her chest so he can pound himself deeper inside, cream dripping onto the sheets. Her legs are sticky with their shared arousal.

Harry’s face is flushed, brows furrowed as he loses himself in the feel of her. It’s been almost as torturous for him as it has for her; he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this frantic, never has he felt so desperate to plunge himself into her depths, never has he been so entranced, so sensitive to any touch. His head tips back, features twisted, chest bared, and teeth gritted. His breaths are weak, faltering and shallow. He groans as she tightens around him. Sweat drips down his chest.

“H? Color?”

It takes a moment to pull him back.

“Green, baby,” he says, smiling ever so slightly.

He’s never felt this before, this vulnerable yet powerful, on the verge of pleasure and pain, dancing along a tightrope threatening to snap at any second, such a thrill. He feels light headed, high off of her. He wants to feel her, embrace her, love her.

He rips at the knots around her wrists, fingers trembling, but they won’t budge, and he loses his balance, instead wrapping his arms around her arched back. He nestles his nose in her neck, pulling their chests tight together. She smells of salt and sin and sex, and he can’t control himself.

“So fucking good.”

He presses himself deeper, the head of his sensitive cock nudging the inmost parts of her. He fucks her easily with his cum spilling out with every hard thrust, leaving their connected bodies sticky. He can’t pull out much without his cock weeping with overstimulation, but he can’t stop, the pleasure all too addicting.

“Jus’ one more, lovie,” he whispers. “So close. Don’t you dare come.” He grits his teeth, rubbing at her swollen clit, subtly and just to make it throb, before his hands rest on her lower belly, thumbs connecting just below the button. He fucks into her harder, the bed frame shaking and smacking into the wall.

That’s when realization hits her.

She’s close.

She’s so close, one well placed thrust, one harsh stroke to her clit will push her over the edge.

But she has to hold it off.

His words ring in her ears in time with her racing heart, his threat of no intimacy sobering her. If she thought before was punishment, having to see him pleasure himself without being able to touch him, this is hell. Her orgasm burns painfully in her belly. It tastes so sweet. She clings to the silk restraints. She doesn’t want to give in, but it would feel so good; it would be a high that would leave her lightheaded for hours afterward, and shockwaves of pleasure tightening her muscles as a constant reminder.

She sobs, on the brink of breaking. Her hands tingle, drained of blood. She’s trying to relax, to breathe through the waves of euphoria that crash over her, and it works for a second, but with that, she opens up more, taking him deeper and more easily. That’s when the pleasure would shatter the calm in harsh waves. She closes her eyes, a drawn hum seeping from her chest. He grabs the back of her neck, using it as leverage as he fucks himself deeper into her, and she cries out.

“Look at me,” he demands. She does, barely, her teary eyes glimmering. He smiles, and she feels warm. “There’s my pretty girl. I’m almost there, just a little bit more. Doing so well for me babylove. Don’t come.”

“Please,” she moans, peering through her lashes. “Come for me, daddy.”

She lights a fire in his veins, sending a rippling feeling of ecstasy through his spine. His eyes roll back as he comes once again, his prick pulsating as he empties himself deep inside for a third and final time. Satiated, he grinds his hips against her, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She’s throbbing around him, legs trembling at his sides. She sighs, most likely out of relief but perhaps also out of frustration. As he nestles himself deeper, her lips tremble, features pinching as she tries to hold off an orgasm, clenching so tightly that his softening cock slips out of her. She moans.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing his lips sweetly to her sticky forehead. “You did so well for me, babylove. So proud of you.” Then again to her cheek. He traces up the backs of her thighs, hooking her legs around his waist.

“What did we learn?”

“Don’t touch yourself unless daddy says so,” she whispers, her voice dry. He nods appreciatively, eyes taking in her trembling form, and leans back.

Her thighs twitch occasionally at his sides, and he wants to bite them, skin surely sensitive to the slightest of touches. Sweat and cum and saliva paint her flesh, but the absolute masterpiece is her ruined pussy, swollen and wet and divine. He thumbs at her, gently guiding her lips apart to expose her pink inside, quivering with an insatiable need. He wants to lick up the cum that slips out of her, but she’s been through enough, the aftershocks of her stolen orgasms still visibly lingering in her sore body.

Another time, perhaps.

“That’s right, babylove. I think you finally learned your lesson.”

—

#enjoy nasties #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes filth #never knew i would have to make a tag like that but #here we are #gif not mine #credit to owner

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windrush-child · 3 years ago

Text

Fast Life (one shot)

Reader x Lewis. 3.2k words. Pure smut.

In which you're on your first day of work as the new Sky F1 reporter, and a certain World Champion is very much intrigued by you. Giant filth warning for unprotected s*x and a general lack of morals. Y'all know me. Enjoy. More works

Your peach-coloured sundress fluttered in Imola's warm breeze as you hurried towards the media pen. You glanced at your phone, only five minutes until your first interviewee would get there. Sky's camera guy was probably already waiting for you to arrive. Tight time schedules were nothing new to you, they were pretty much the default for this kind of job. What was new to you, however, was everything else. This was your very first track day with Sky F1, and needless to say, you were more than reasonably nervous. You greeted the camera operator as you scanned your notebook one last time, careful not to forget any important questions about the last phase of Qualifying that had just taken place. Your colleague passed you the microphone, and your eyes locked on to your first and most important target of the day as he turned round the corner - Lewis Hamilton, Imola's pole sitter. The other reporters had already warned you that the Mercedes driver wasn't the easiest to interview - he could get a bit snappy when he wasn't in a good mood. But judging by the way the champ strutted towards you, chest puffed out like a lion and his chin up high, you figured that this definitely wasn't the case today. Lewis stopped in front of your microphone, a proud smile on his lips as he eyed you up and down - he'd never seen you at a race before. Interesting. You took a deep breath, and the cameras were rolling. "Lewis, I have to start by saying that your pole lap looked absolutely hair-raising." You began, and the driver tilted his head and smiled a bit wider. "Can you talk us through the last few corners?" Lewis inhaled deeply, his eyes focused on something in the distance as he pictured his lap in his mind. He began explaining, and elaborately answered all your follow-up questions, too. This was going perfectly. The Mercedes driver was talkative and beaming today, and rightfully so - he had been pretty much unbeatable all afternoon. But in the middle of his answer about tyre choices, he stopped. "-Are we live, by the way?" Lewis asked. You blinked at him, a bit caught off guard. "Uh, no, we're not." A certain type of smile appeared on his lips. "I've never seen you around the paddock before. Are you new?" He asked, bluntly, as he let his brown eyes roam all over you. "Oh, uhm... yeah, I am. First day at Sky." You stammered, trying to think of a way to steer the conversation back to tyre choices as quickly as possible. "Oh! congrats." He hummed, his intense gaze made you feel hot in the face. "Always nice to see more young women at the track." He said, the flirty tone in his voice was undeniable at this point. You could feel yourself starting to turn red. Who was doing the interviewing here? "So...Lewis, about the mediums-" You continued, but the look on the driver's face showed that he saw right through your facade of professionalism. Lucky for you, he decided to spare your blushes for now, and let you finish the interview as usual. "Will I see you at the conference, then?" Lewis blurted out after the camera was off, not a care in the world for the people and microphones around you both. "You might." You said, politely smiling at him. The look he gave you in return triggered a tingly feeling in your belly, but you chose to write it off as spring fever and general nervousness - Nothing to do with the man who was clearly batting his eyes at you. For the rest of the afternoon, you had an appointment with Toto Wolff for a quick interview, which involved just a couple of softball questions about the WCC fight, before having to prepare for the big post-Qualifying conference. However, unable to resist your curiosity, you decided to take a couple of steps through the Mercedes quarters after the team boss had left. It wouldn't do no harm, would it? You sneaked through the halls, they almost looked like small storage rooms, looking at photographs, trophies, and awards. How had they ended up here? Did the team bring those with them to every race? No, that couldn't be. That would be ridiculous.

After taking a while to marvel at spare parts for the cars, which you were pretty sure you weren't meant to see, you decided you'd better get going before somebody caught you snooping around the- "What are you doing in here?" You dropped half your stack of notes to the ground as the voice echoed through the hallway, making you jump like a cat. Shit! "Oh! I'm sorry- I just.." You stuttered as you turned around to meet Lewis' eyes. The driver stood motionless, arms crossed in front of his chest as you scurried to pick up your notes from the ground. Fuck, this couldn't be going any worse. "Are you spying on my team?" Lewis asked, a stern look on his face. You gripped your notebook tightly while he raised a brow at you, waiting for an answer. You had no clue whether he was being serious or messing with you right now. "No, no-" You blurted out. "I just... I did an interview with Toto, and then I went to look around the place a bit." You explained. "But no spying! I swear." Lewis squinted at you, an amused grin forming on his face as he took a couple of steps towards you. "It's okay, sweetie." He said, as a perplexed look crossed your face. "I'm not gonna tell on you." "Oh." You exhaled with a slightly nervous chuckle. "Well... thank you, then." You said, your eyes on the ground, ready to turn around and get out of this embarassing scene. "I should probably go-" "Have you seen the new floor parts? They're pretty amazing." Lewis interrupted you, taking another step closer. Your eyes shot up, and you just now realized he wasn't wearing his fireproofs underneath his race suit. "Uhm... yeah, I have." You answered, reluctantly, unable to tear your eyes off of the exposed bit of his chest. Your gaze wandered up, his neck and his face were still flushed, and his widened pupils turned his eyes nearly black. Must be the adrenaline from Qualifying. The longer you looked at him, the more evident it became - the Mercedes driver was gorgeous. Lewis cleared his voice, tearing you out of your thoughts. "...but I guess you're not too interested in car parts right now." He said, his voice raw. His eyes roamed all over your body, making your skin burn under his gaze. You bit your bottom lip hard - Your faces were just inches apart now. Suddenly, he placed his big hand on the side of your neck, very gently. With the other, he took the notebook out of your hands and put it somewhere, mindlessly. "You know what I love most about racing?" He began, unexpectedly, his voice almost a whisper. You stared at him, wide-eyed. "It gives you this... incredible rush." He continued, slightly tilting your head to the side with his hand. "Makes you feel as if you can do anything... and have anything you want in the world." He said and leaned into your exposed throat, his hot breath on your skin caused your heart to pound wildly inside of your chest. Fuck. Oh, fuck. A whimper escaped you as he ran his soft lips over your neck, the touch so faint that it was barely there, but it made your insides twist into a knot. Lewis smiled when he heard the little noise - He had you right where he wanted. Without warning, he wrapped an arm around your small waist and pressed you into his body - Suddenly, all restraints were cut loose. You gasped as he began to ravish you with his mouth, tongue, and teeth, pushing you backwards until your back hit a wall, tugging on the straps of your dress, all the while you tried to process what was happening, tried to suppress your whimpers. The man was like an animal. You clawed at his shoulders as he bit into the soft skin above your collarbone, pressing himself into you harder the louder you moaned. Between your legs, you could feel through his race suit that Lewis was getting more heated with every second. "Fuck, Lewis-" You gasped, and he stopped for a moment to meet your eyes. They looked dark and glossy, the hunger inside of them obvious as he stared you down.

Lewis exhaled sharply, trying but failing to regain his composure - Everything about you was so intoxicating, you made him want to rip your dress off and take you right here. "Do you have any idea what I wanna do to you right now?" He growled, as he lifted one of your legs up and pushed himself against you with his hips, giving you no chance to escape with the wall against your back. His hardening bulge was pressed onto your entrance through the thin fabric of your panties. "Oh my god…" Your mouth fell open as he began grinding himself against your core, driving you absolutely wild. "Fuck, Lewis, can you… just fuck me?" You gasped, it sounded embarrassingly pleading. The driver halted all his movements for a moment, and then let go of you - Only to grab you by the hand and pull you into the nearest room with a lockable door. It was small, dark, and only what seemed to be a physio table stood against a wall. Perfect. You managed to get a hold of the zipper of his race suit and pulled it down, exposing his toned chest and stomach. Lewis moaned as you kissed and dragged your teeth over his skin, further down until you kneeled in front of him. He leaned his back against the door as you took his cock out of his briefs, it felt hard and heavy in your hand. A sharp hiss escaped him as you wrapped your lips around his head, torturously licking over the underside of it to make him twitch in your mouth. "Fuck…Good girl." He groaned and grabbed a fistful of your hair, slowly pushing you further down his cock until you had to gag. "Is it big, sweetie?" He purred, and you could only whimper in response - Shit, it was. He held you by your hair firmly and began giving you gentle, shallow thrusts. The stretch of his cock caused tears to well up in the corners of your eyes, all you could do was to breathe and give yourself to him. "You're taking me so well, baby." Lewis moaned and caressed your face. "Such a good girl." You moaned at the name he was calling you, before he suddenly pulled out. Rock-hard and covered in spit, he couldn't stand to wait any longer. Lewis pulled you up and spun you around by the waist, walking you towards the table until your belly was pressed against it. "How do you want it, baby?" He asked as he slipped his hands up your dress and roughly pulled down your panties. Your thighs trembled in anticipation like crazy, you’d barely been able to catch your breath from having Lewis down your throat a minute ago. "Hard" you gasped, your voice hoarse and breathless. A heated groan left Lewis' lips - No more playing gentle, then. If you wanted it hard, oh, you were gonna get it hard. He lifted one of your legs up on the table, making sure you were nicely spread for him, before you felt him press his swollen head against your pussy. Holding you down firmly against the tabletop, both hands on your back, he thrusted his hips forward to bury his cock deep inside of you. "Ahh- fuck!" You yelped as he stretched you to your limit. You squirmed beneath his hands, but Lewis made sure not to let you run away, holding still behind you as he gave you a chance to adjust to him. "Sweetie, are you sure you can take this?" He asked, and you could practically hear the smirk through his words. "Seems like you're struggling a bit." Lewis purred and leaned himself into you harder, his cock pushing against places inside of your body you hadn't known existed. Your high-pitched whimpers echoed through the room. Fuck, he was such a cocky, arrogant motherfucker - and he had you soaking wet with it. The feeling of being completely at his mercy, with no where to cling to but the edge of this table, was nearly too much to take. With a tight grip on your body, he began fucking into you feverishly, punching moans out of you with every thrust. Lewis’ harsh breaths filled the room as he thoroughly ravaged you, and he didn't waste a single thought to the risk that someone might hear it - Because why would he? He'd take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. And right now, Lewis wanted you.

"Fuck" He hissed, his rhythm suddenly stuttering. His skin must've been a hundred degrees right now, he felt like he was about to burst with the way you moaned so beautifully and tightened around his cock, the scent of sex and sweat nearly kicking him into overdrive. "You're gonna make me do something really stupid." Lewis panted, digging his fingers into your flesh, and you knew right then - it was you who had him at your mercy, not the other way around. "Do it." You gasped, pushing yourself back into him until he reciprocated, and harshly groaned when you arched your back up to make him go deep. "Cum inside me, Lewis." You whined, lewdly. "I know you want to, daddy." Lewis clenched his jaw and growled, hard. Jesus fucking Christ, he could feel the last ounce of self control leave his body. The pressure in his groin was about to kill him. "You want it inside of you?" He panted, grabbing you by the back of your neck to get a good hold on you. You moaned in agreement as he picked up a rough pace. Fuck, he was gonna make you take it, all of it - Just the thought made your legs tremble and your pussy throb like crazy. Lewis' thrusts turned sloppy and his breaths ragged when he felt you clench around him. He wouldn't be able to take this for much longer, not with the way his cock was already swelling inside of you. "Yes, Lewis, just like that-" You spurred him on, breathlessly, until you felt him dig his nails into your skin, his full weight against your hips as he pushed in all the way. Before he knew it, a hot rush shot into his belly, and he came undone with a gorgeous, relieved groan. Oh, his warm cum felt so good as he spilled it inside your pussy. Lewis messily bucked his hips into you, until, fuck - the delicious throbbing of his cock finally pushed you over the edge. Your moans filled the room as you came, and Lewis hissed through gritted teeth when he felt you contract around him. Shit, he was so gonna get in trouble for this, but he couldn't care less right now - the blissful feeling of you cumming on his cock killed all sense of reason in him. When the tremble of your legs had subsided, and he was sure he'd emptied himself inside of you to the last drop, he slowly pulled out. His seed was already dripping out of you, smoothly trickling down your thigh while he rested against your body, trying to hold himself steady. The only sound that could be heard in the room was harsh panting, with the both of you trying to come down from the ungodly filth that had just happened. "Shit." Lewis sighed, completely out of breath. "Look at you." he said, spreading your lips to slide his thumb into your pussy, cum coating his finger as he tried to stuff it back inside of you. Seeing you like this, bent over the table with a mess between your legs, made him hum in satisfaction. He ran his slick thumb through your folds, further up until he reached your ass. Pressing it against your tight hole, he made you gasp sharply. "Fuck, you just had to make me cum inside you, huh?" He said, a heavy but pleased sigh leaving his lips. "You know I’m not meant to be doing that. You're just such a little..." He trailed off, and pushed his thumb into your ass, just to make you flinch and hear you whimper - It was gorgeous. "Next time, I'll fuck your ass, sweetie." He purred, the threat in his voice shot straight to the pits of your belly. Lewis let go of you, and took a step back to stuff himself back into his briefs. He was sweaty and probably smelled like sex from a mile away, but he didn't care - he had a press conference to attend, after all, and showing up late would be very unprofessional, now. When you propped yourself up on one hand, carefully holding up your dress with the other so it wouldn't get stained, Lewis had already picked up a towel from the floor and began wiping you clean.

"Thanks." You said, and it came out sounding way too timid. The post-orgasm clarity made you painfully aware that you just let Lewis, of all people, ravish you unprotected, in a small back room on a physio-table. And now he was cleaning his cum off of your legs, too - You weren't sure whether you could look him in the eyes ever again. When he was done, he turned you around with a hand on your waist. As he saw your flushed face, and the abashed flicker in your eyes, an amused smile formed on his lips. "Oh, love. Don't be shy now." Lewis said, and you blushed even harder. “You did so well for me, baby.” He whispered and placed a tender kiss on your forehead - a gesture way too innocent for how he’d just wrecked you five minutes ago. You let out a shaky breath, holding on to his bare shoulders, barely able to meet his gaze. Suddenly, you lowered your eyes - And started giggling to yourself like an idiot. “Ah, there you go.” He said, a bright smile on his lips. “You had me worried there for a second. Hope I wasn’t too rough with you.” He said and scratched the back of your neck. “No” you hummed and leaned your head against his chest. “You did it just right.” You took a minute to make each other look decent again, as you tucked Lewis’ braids back into his elastic, and he raked his fingers through your hair to make it look a little less messy. Lewis opened the door for you, and you gave him a short but intense kiss to his throat, before stepping out of the room. “See you at the conference, Sir Lewis.” You said and winked at him through your pretty lashes before you turned around - And Lewis stood, smirking like a fool, while he watched the mesmerising swing of your hips as you walked away.

{Part 2}

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1blr #f1 #f1 fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfiction #formula 1

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juletheghoul · 4 years ago

Text

Dulcis (Part I)

This is my formal submission to The Pit™️ (so much filth)

This is going to be a two part series! It doesn't end here

(I know this might not be everyone's cup of tea since it is about infidelity. Reader is engaged and David is married. Please feel free to skip this if that doesn't interest you!)

Dave (Murder Daddy) York x F!Reader

Pairing: David York x F!Reader

Word Count: 12K (are we even surprised at this point)

Warnings: **TRIGGER WARNING** NSFW 18+ INFIDELITY! (reader is engaged, David is married) language, Smut, PIV sex (wrap it up), dirty talk, **daddy kink** oral (m receiving / mentions of female receiving) vaginal fingering (in a public space), praise & aftercare, guilt?- let me know if I missed any!

Masterlist Part 2

---

“Alright who’s up first?” They all looked away from you, they always do this when they have to present their projects. It’s understandable, you could remember doing it when you were in school.

“If no one volunteers I’ll have to pick someone.” You smiled sympathetically. You saw a couple of your braver students raise their hands. Once the first student went the others saw that like always- it wasn’t so bad.

You managed to get through all of them before lunch which, as a second grade teacher, was a miracle.

They were a little rowdy during the lunch hour but that was to be expected. You used the much needed break to gather your things for the math work that had to be done after recess.

You felt your phone vibrating in your pocket and you checked your messages- there were two from your fiancé Charlie.

Can’t we just elope?

Hi by the way

You could have killed him, you sighed, smiling as you quickly responded to him.

No, hi! Don’t make me say I told you so while I’m at work, I take it your hunt for the tux isn’t going so well?

You had suggested eloping right when he’d proposed, a big wedding wasn’t something you needed. A trip to the courthouse and a nice dinner after would have been just fine with you.

It’s bullshit, lol I fucking hate shopping - I’ll figure it out, have a great day at work, love you xo

You quickly put your phone away at the commotion in class.

Two of the kids were arguing, it was getting intense and you had no idea what caused it.

“Okay you two settle down, finish your lunch - recess-“

One of the students suddenly punched the other square in the face. It was a practised, precise thing and it shocked you.

“Alice! We do not hit.” You didn’t yell it but you used a tone that silenced all the children. You quickly made your way over to them, Jacob was bleeding from the nose and you called the school nurse to come get him. Calling the principal after to let her know what happened.

“Alice, you’re staying inside during recess with me, that was unacceptable. I’m going to have to call your parents. You know we don’t fix things by fighting.” You spoke to her in a neutral tone, trying to keep the anger out.

“But he-“ you cut her off.

“No, none of that. We’ll discuss this with your parents.” You didn’t want to hear it, you looked through your desk for the contact sheet to call while the kids played outside. She sat at her desk quietly, watching you through sad eyes.

“Hi, I’m looking for David York? I’m Alice York’s teacher and I need to speak to him please.” The receptionist sounded wary, she asked for your name and the name of the school and you provided the information. You waited for him to pick up but the receptionist came back and informed you that Mr. York was currently away from his desk but that she would leave a message. Hopefully Mrs York would pick him.

“Hi is this Carol York? Hello Mrs York, yes I’m calling about Alice? Yes that’s right, no she’s fine there’s no emergency but I do have to ask you and your husband to come in for a meeting with me tonight. Well there’s been an incident…” You explained what happened and she was very apologetic, agreeing to come to see you right after work.

You quickly texted Charlie to let him know you’d be late.

******

Alice didn’t give you any more trouble for the rest of the day, Jacob had a bit of a bloody nose but overall he was okay.

The day went smoothly and as all of the children went home you had Alice sit and colour while you both waited for her parents. You didn’t have to wait long.

Your head lifted at the soft knock at your door, you saw an apologetic looking woman and her very bored looking husband.

“Hello, we’re so sorry! I’m Carol and this is my husband David, Alice come here and explain yourself.” She walked over to your desk to shake your hand. David followed reluctantly.

“What happened kiddo?” He asked her as she approached.

“Jacob took my notebook and wouldn’t give it back.” She looked at her mother ashamed.

“We don’t hit you know that! I’m so sorry about this - we’ll have a talk with her when we get home.” She sat at the chairs you gestured to - you noticed David’s face as Alice spoke. A sly smile, quickly wiped away to look stern. Was he proud of her?

You agreed with the need to stick up for yourself but taking a notebook was hardly a reason for two second graders to resort to a brawl. He saw you looking at him and he nodded sagely.

“We’re very sorry about this.” He wasn’t sorry.

You took him in as Carol spoke to Alice in hushed tones on her lap, he was an imposing man, tall and broad. He wore a suit and for all the world looked like a professional but there was something about him that made you blush. You had the vague sense that he was undressing you with his eyes and it made your heart race. He was very handsome, but in a sinister way.

“Never again right Alice?” You spoke to her before turning your attention to her parents. “She’ll have detention for the next two days, no recess, but I won’t keep her after school.” You spoke as neutrally as you could with Mr York's eyes boring into you. You could almost feel them burning you.

“Yes of course, that’s not a problem. We will talk about this when we get home, young lady.” Carol spoke half to you and half to her daughter. David continued to stare.

You were thankful this would be it and were just getting ready to guide them to the door when he spoke.

“How are her grades otherwise? Is she doing well?” He said it in a low tone.

You could learn to crave that voice.

Get a fucking grip

“They’re good, she’s a great student otherwise, got an A on her book report today. Just have to remember to keep our hands to ourselves right?” You smiled warmly at her, doing your best to not look him in the eye.

“That’s great to hear, thank you so much for reaching out - please feel free to contact me for anything.” Carol started gathering Alice’s things.

David continued to stare at you, you saw him boldly look you up and down as you walked around your desk to see them out. Carol was too busy getting Alice into her jacket to see him.

He looked at you like she wasn’t even there.

He smirked as he swiped his thumb across his bottom lip, his gaze focused on the length of your dress. Your eyes widened at the nerve of him, absolutely no regard for his wife or his daughter.

He was devouring you with his eyes and you did absolutely nothing to stop him. You flushed - whether from disgust or excitement you’d never know but it did not deter him. He clapped his hands together and thanked you for your time.

Your heart hammering even after they’d left.

**********

The music was blaring when you walked through the door to your little apartment. You could hear Charlie singing along as he pulled something that smelled absolutely divine out of the oven.

“Hey babe! I made dinner, I got home a bit early.” He kissed you hello as he put the lasagne on the table.

“Oh god that smells good.” You smiled as you all but dropped everything to sit and eat with him.

You both discussed how your respective days had gone, about what you both had to do and like almost every conversation you’d had during the past seven months- it ended up on the wedding. If you were honest the whole thing was starting to grate on your nerves.

You’d always known the two of you were going to get married. From the first time you saw him, he was so handsome and sweet and he seemed to live his life in order to make you happy. The wedding however, it seemed all wrong. The both of you were simple, you were the kind of people who didn’t make a big fuss.

This wedding was a big fuss.

“My mom says she’s paying for the flowers, I insisted that it wasn’t necessary, that it didn’t matter but she pushed- and you know my sister wants to help with something.” Charlie was notoriously easy going so you took his ‘insisting’ with a grain of salt.

“Your family would pay for the whole wedding if we let them.” You prodded gently, his family seemed to want this wedding more than you did. It was overwhelming.

“They just want grandchildren, they think the faster we get married the faster I’ll get you pregnant.” He laughed, you’d talked about children before and you both wanted them but you’d decided to wait a little bit. You both wanted to enjoy married life.

While showering after having cleaned up, your mind curiously wanders to a place you didn’t expect.

You were thinking about Mr York. You didn’t even really know why - yes he was handsome but it was more than that. He was intriguing, he seemed dangerous somehow.

That was surprising, why should he be dangerous? Charlie pulled back the curtain pulling you sharply out of your reverie, and scaring you half to death.

“Sorry!” He laughed as he got in with you. You felt guilty, like you’d been caught but he mistook your guilty look for fear.

“You scared the fuck out of me!” You tried to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest as you stepped into the water, rinsing the shampoo out of your hair.

You felt Charlie’s hands circle your waist as he laughed.

“Sorry babe, I didn’t mean to.” He kissed your shoulder as he joined you under the hot spray, his hands roaming over the soft skin of your belly. They slipped over your soapy skin, up towards your breasts. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his fingers as they pinched and plucked at your nipples the way he knew you liked.

He continued with his exploration, running one hand down under it, spreading your folds and honing in on your clit. Gliding over it over and over until you were panting, the other hand still on your breast. You closed your eyes as you leaned your head back onto his shoulder - your hands finding themselves in his hair.

“Faster- please” You were almost there, it was so good and the thought came to you out of nowhere. You imagine for a split second that it was Mr York in the shower with you instead of your fiancé. His fingers between your legs, his cock rubbing up against your ass and you came harder than you had any right to. Your fingers clutching at Charlie’s hair almost painfully tight.

He kissed your shoulder and turned you around to kiss you on the mouth to take it further but the guilt wouldn’t let you. You needed a few minutes to get your shit together.

“Babe, let’s wait until we’re in bed- I’m not really feeling shower sex right now.” You kissed him softly and pulled away.

“Okay honey.” He smiled at you, complacent even though his dick was hard and leaking precum, weirdly this annoyed you.

Charlie was a sexual guy, he enjoyed it. That you knew, and you couldn’t exactly complain about your sex life. He was attentive and he did his best to make you cum, he took direction well and you had no complaints about his size.

The problem was, Charlie was vanilla.

Sex was three positions if that and he barely talked at all. You had tried to get him to be a little more open and adventurous but he always reverted to his regular routine. Most of the time it was fine, you both got off and you loved him.

Sometimes however, you wanted more. You wanted excitement, you wanted passion. You wanted filth.

Charlie was sweet. You could live with sweet.

He was snoring beside you peacefully, he’d coaxed another orgasm out of you once you both got into bed. The guilt kept you awake though, because you’d imagined Mr York the whole time.

————————-

“I need all of the information you can find on this woman.” David gave your name to his contact, he had to know.

He asked Alice a few probing questions but didn’t want to push it. He didn’t need her telling her mother offhandedly that he’d been curious about you.

He had your name and place of employment, for his line of work - that was more than enough. You were a pretty thing and he was intrigued. He knew you’d seen him, he’d made sure of it. He’d also noticed you looking at him, as much as you tried not to. Saw the gorgeous flush creep it’s way up your neck when he stared at your legs.

He had to get close to you, see if his instincts were right.

He had a full report on you within the hour, he saw that you’d been teaching for about five years. That you were a few years younger than him, engaged, parents on the other side of the country, decent credit score.

All he had to figure out now was how to make his move.

————————

“Remember to show your parents your agendas! We have a trip coming up and I need everyone’s parents or guardians to sign the forms I put in them. Please do not forget. Have a great day and I’ll see you tomorrow.” The kids were frantically packing away their things as the bell wrung, you still watched them as you packed up your things. You had to remember to ask for volunteers in their agendas tomorrow- maybe you could call a few of the more friendlier parents.

A knock at the door made you jump what felt like a foot off the ground. Turning around and seeing who was there did absolutely nothing to calm you down.

“Mr York, what can I do for you?” You tried to speak as calmly as possible. Willing yourself to sound natural and nonchalant.

He walked over to you and it vaguely felt like you were being hunted. His quiet made you uneasy and your anxiety pushed you to fill the empty air with conversation.

“Everything okay with Mrs York? I hope Alice isn’t still in trouble?” He was in your personal space and it was difficult to breathe. He was so big, so tall, his eyes impossibly bright with what looked like mischief.

Never in all your time together has Charlie ever looked at you with this kind of intensity.

Annoyingly, it made you wet.

“They’re fine.” He licked his lips as he stared down at you, the bottom one was full and you had the wild urge to bite it.

What the hell is wrong with me?

You kept backing away from him slowly and he kept pressing forward, you didn’t know what to do or what he wanted but he was overwhelming you.

“I know you saw me looking at you.” He watched your mouth as he spoke and you felt like you couldn’t get your thoughts in order.

“I - I’m engaged…” You blurted it out but either he didn’t register or he didn’t care.

“And I’m married.” He got a little closer, there was a crackling of electricity between the two of you and the tingle of it seemed to be focused on your nipples and your clit. He brought his hand up and traced his thumb over your bottom lip boldly and the act shocked you into complacency, it grounded you on the spot. He saw the shock and excitement in your eyes and he probed a bit to see how far you would go.

“I thought about you. When I fucked her.”

You short circuited, your brain was a puddle and your cunt clenched. You involuntarily let out a gasp at his confession and it brought to mind the thoughts you’d had while with Charlie. You were dripping into your panties.

He pushed his thumb into your mouth a fraction and it was like a damn broke, without even knowing why or stopping to consider the consequences you took his thumb into your mouth and sucked. Hollowing out your cheeks prettily.

He groaned, bringing his thumb back out and spreading your saliva onto your lips.

He came close and you prepared yourself for a kiss but he licked your top lip, so fast you would have missed it. You gasped and he let go. Walking out the door as you caught your breath.

—————

The shame followed you like a shadow, it surrounded you as you drove home in silence.

Charlie’s face haunting you as you felt your arousal soaking your panties. You tried to justify the unjustifiable as you pulled into the parking garage of your building, telling yourself that it was a weird hallucination. You hadn’t actually sucked this man's thumb at the school like a whore. No.

Charlie was sitting on the couch going over the seating arrangement when you walked in. You dropped all of your things and walked over to him, you needed to rewrite your excitement somehow. Transfer it onto Charlie.

“Hey babe-“ you cut him off by plopping down onto his lap, and kissing him silent. He was momentarily stunned but he dropped everything and held onto you.

“You okay?” He asked smiling as he pulled away, you didn’t answer, you hastily pulled up his shirt - trying to get him to join you in your urgency.

“I want you, I’ve been thinking about you fucking me and I want to ride your cock, right here on the couch.” You lied into his ear, poisoned honey dripping from your mouth. You heard him gasp and felt him hardening beneath you.

“Jesus Christ…” Charlie wasn’t much of a dirty talk kind of guy, you wanted him to be but he always said it felt awkward. You usually didn’t push it but today Mr York’s words were branded into your brain.

“My pussy is so wet for you baby.” Another lie, but never mind that.

He groaned but didn’t say anything and it was frustrating, you needed the release however and you let it pass. You imagined Mr York saying some truly filthy things in your ear and it made you feel guilty but you couldn’t help yourself.

He let you work out your excitement and after you both hit your peak you got up and headed for the bedroom. You saw him sitting on the couch, half naked and blissed out as you walked away.

You prodded him gently when you were curled up in bed.

“Charlie, did you like what we did today? On the couch?” You wanted to ease into it.

“Yes, we’ve had sex on the couch before, I always enjoy it with you.” He kissed your forehead.

“Did you like the things I said?” You drew little patterns on his chest as you laid in the dark.

“They were pretty intense, I didn’t not like them?” You could almost feel him blushing, you tried hard not to sigh. You were going to spend the rest of your lives together there was no need to be shy.

“Why don’t you ever talk to me like that when we fuck?” You could feel him trying to retreat but you didn’t want to let him. “There’s no need to be shy around me, we’re going to get married, we should be open.” He wasn’t having any of it.

“I don’t know honey you know I get awkward, just not something I’m comfortable with I guess.”

“Maybe we could get some books or take a class or something? So many different things we could try and I want to try them with you.” You were trying to open him up, you didn’t want to imagine a life of predictable repetitive sex - no matter how much you loved him.

“Maybe, let’s revisit it again at some point. Goodnight honey.” He kissed your forehead again and turned so you were spooning him. You tried to be understanding, you tried to think about respecting his boundaries but all you came up with was Mr York’s thumb in your mouth.

———————————-

“David- David!” His head snapped back to the sound. Carol was standing in front of him with an exasperated look on her face.

“David what is going on? I’ve been calling you for the last ten minutes.” He was thinking of you.

“Sorry honey, my head is still at work. What's going on?” He gave her his most convincing smile and she shook her head, amused.

“Dinners ready, the girls want to tell you about their day. Come on, I made your favourite.” She smiled sweetly as she left his home office. The smile disappeared as fast as it’d been conjured.

---

“How was school today girls?” He couldn’t ask about you outright, had to dance around it.

“It was good, learning about the solar system.” His eldest, Molly. He smiled and asked her how she liked it, she talked about it excitedly and he enjoyed her enthusiasm.

“What about you Alice, how was school today?” His youngest was shy, but he could see his personality in her. A little more intense, a little more reserved.

“Good, we have a field trip next week.” There it is.

“That sounds nice, where are you going?” A field trip - this could do nicely.

“Museum, I have the form in my bag. I need you to sign it.” So many shadowy corners in a museum.

“Go get the form sweetheart, I don’t want to forget.” Carol prompted her.

She came back with it a few minutes later and David held it in his hands. He saw a little note on the form that made him smile despite himself.

Chaperones are always needed - please call to volunteer.

“What do you think about me volunteering for this? I could take a day and it would be nice to take some interest.” He took her hand in his and smiled warmly, looking for all the world to be a devoted father.

“Honey, that's a great idea. I’ll call tomorrow and let them know.” She was happy, and David was happy.

----

The night before a school trip always made you nervous. So many variables - it was hard enough to control a class full of seven and eight year olds in a classroom let alone in a museum. At least a couple of parents had volunteered, you saw Mrs York on the form and it made your heart skip. You imagined she’d be able to see every thought you’d had about her husband on your face.

You fell asleep thinking about him.

---

“Okay kids, let’s settle down. The bus will be here soon and I need to make sure everyone has their buddies. What’s the rule?” You asked over the excited din.

“Stay with your buddy!” They all said it in unison.

“Exactly! Now we will be there all day, we have a lot to see, you can leave your backpacks here. We’re going to have lunch there and we’ll be back in time for those of you who take the bus home. You can have a little free time while we wait for the buses.” They instantly grouped together to chat excitedly while you made sure you had everything in order. There were a couple of parents and you gave them wristbands to put on the children.

“Sorry I’m a few minutes late.” Mr York was walking into your classroom in casual clothes. What the hell was he doing here?

“Hello Mr York, you’re right on time. Where’s Mrs York? I thought she had volunteered?” You tried to ask the question neutrally but he could see the panic in your eyes.

“It was always me, whoever took her phone call must have made a mistake.” He spoke gently but it did something to you. You felt his eyes roaming your body and you flushed.

Great, this is going to be just great.

You did your best to centre your breathing while you led the children down the hall and to the buses. You could feel his eyes on you as you made your way down the hall. You did your best to ignore it.

The students lined up in front of the bus in pairs and you quickly went over the rules again - making sure to look at the three parents who were going with you. You noticed David talking to Alice, telling her to behave today and that he’d be helping you take care of the class.

Two of the parents got in first to sit at the back, Mr York waited until you got on, you were trying to focus but you couldn’t. You could feel him standing close to you and you were beginning to sweat.

You meant to sit alone but he followed closely behind you and pushed his way to the same seat as you. He took up so much space and you didn’t want to make a big fuss in front of the kids.

The bus driver closed the door and you were on your way. It would be about forty-five minutes to an hour until you got there and it hit you then how absolutely fucked you were.

The kids were excited and chatty and the din of them talking and laughing drowned out everything. You decided to focus your attention on the window and the scenery. You did not want to focus on Mr York. He was having none of it though.

“I like your dress.” He spoke into your ear and you shivered.

“Look Mr York-“

“Call me David.” He looked down at your slight cleavage and you sighed angrily.

“Look David, I don’t know what it is you think is going on but I am engaged. I am engaged to be married and you are the married father of one of my students. I would appreciate it if you could keep your interactions with me strictly professional.” You whispered angrily, trying to sound serious. He smiled pleasantly at you as if you were old friends catching up.

“Is that what you would call sucking my thumb? Professional? It seemed like you wished it was something else you’d been sucking.” His words went directly to your cunt. You saw it then, him sitting with that amused look on his face as you kneeled in front of him, with his cock in your mouth like a good girl.

Charlie.

You were in love with and about to marry Charlie.

He saw the look on your face and he smiled-

“What’s your fiancé’s name?” How dare he?

“His name is Charlie and I love him.” Why did you feel the need to explain this to him?

“That may be true, but I get the feeling that Charlie doesn’t quite know how to fuck you. Or you wouldn’t be licking your lips at the thought of my cock in your mouth. Is that it baby? You haven’t been fucked properly? I can fix that.” His words had you dripping. Charlie had never spoken to you like this and it made you so angry to compare them right now.

You closed your eyes and let the words pass over you, you had to focus. You couldn’t let this admittedly handsome, intimidating man come into your life and lay waste. He took your silence as a sign that he was right.

You felt his fingers ghost over your thigh and you felt like you’d been struck by lightning. Your eyes shot to his hand and to your shame, you hoped for something forbidden. He watched you closely.

“I think about you all the time and something tells me that you think about me too. Think about what I could do or say to get you wet enough for me to glide right in. Have you ride my cock, have your tits bouncing in my face.” His hand gripped your thigh and you whimpered slightly, involuntarily angling your body towards him.

“He doesn’t know what you need.” He hand travelled up up up ghosting along your seam, just enough to drive you insane through your panties and you put your head onto his shoulder. He stopped then and took his hand away and you came back to reality.

The guilt hit you like a tsunami and you squeezed yourself closer to the window, trying for all the world to make yourself smaller, and in turn the distance between you bigger.

He smiled and sat quietly for the rest of the ride to the museum.

——————-

The relief you felt when the bus pulled in was astonishing and you had to hold yourself back from barreling over David to get away. You felt him chuckling as you struggled to get away and you held back the urge to slap him across the face by the grace of god.

“Okay class, let’s get together with our buddies and head over to our first exhibit. If you have any questions please feel free to ask our helpers or myself. What’s the rule?”

“Stick with your buddy!” They yelled it out again.

“Exactly, that means even if you have to use the restroom you go with your buddies. Please ask one of the parents or me before you go.” You were back in your element now and it felt better. You were back in teacher mode and you told yourself that you could do this.

The morning went by relatively smoothly, you had all of the children wrangled and you made your way through the exhibits without issue. You were thankful that David kept his distance from you, he helped the children and you saw him doting on his daughter.

You had decided to block out what happened on the bus. It never happened.

By noon the kids were getting feral, you guided everyone up to the cafeteria and had them sit so the adults could grab everyone their food in shifts. All in all it went pretty smoothly and you had managed to put the whole incident out of your mind.

You let one of the parents know that you were going to sneak away to use the bathroom while the kids were all in one place and she told you to take your time.

You can do this, you told yourself as you stared at your reflection in the mirror.

You were blindsided when you came out of the bathroom, a hand covering your mouth and pulling you away into a closed off exhibit. The panic shot through you like lightning and you tried to fight your attacker off - visions of Charlie flashed through your mind, of the wedding, of your family; your students. His voice didn’t calm you.

“Stop fighting, it’s just me.” His tone suggested that this should have calmed you. It did not.

It pissed you off and once you regained your composure and stopped squirming, he loosened his grip. It gave you the opening you needed and you slapped him across the face - or you would have, but his hand shot up cat-quick and grabbed your wrist before your hand could meet its target.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You were seething, the audacity of this man to put his hands on you. You were trying to hold the anger close- bringing it to the forefront of your mind so as to eclipse the excitement. That had no place here... right?

Why are you so fucking excited?

Why does it feel like you’ve never known this kind of excitement until now?

Get it the fuck together, think of Charlie.

“I am going to make you cum.” Those words were thrown out into the air like they meant nothing. Like it was simply a chore to be completed off a list.

He was getting closer. His movements brought to mind the wildlife documentaries that Charlie liked to watch, you could see the big jungle cat slowly stalking towards the gazelle. If you were home and watching this scene unfold on the screen, you would be yelling at yourself to run.

You couldn’t make your legs move, worse still - you didn’t really want to.

Instead you stood there, silent and unmoving. Waiting for the jungle cat to pounce on you, waiting for him to crush your neck with strong jaws and long claws.

Why were you so wet?

“I’m going to pull that short little dress up, and I’m going to make you cum with my fingers. Would you like that baby? You want me to make that little pussy cum?” He was in your space now, towering over you and you couldn’t look away. Your breath was coming hard at the filth pouring out of his mouth.

Charlie never spoke to you this way.

You felt the wall and you realised he’d been herding you, exactly where he wanted you. You looked up at him through your lashes- god he’s so tall, so broad - and his arms came up to rest on either side of your head, essentially caging you in. The heat was rolling off him, was it heat? Or was it your own excitement? You’d never be able to tell, all you knew for certain is that you were dripping. You were feral and you couldn’t stop looking at his mouth. He smiled as he leaned in close, his breath ghosting over your neck as he spoke right into your ear.

“Do you want me to? Do you want me to make you cum baby?” the low tone, the proximity, the wrongness of it. You would never admit it after but you nodded, almost imperceptibly. His smile for you then was genuine.

It felt like his hands were charged with electricity, those wands that they had at science centers that made your skin tingle. You felt it, as his fingers softly skimmed your thigh as they travelled up to your soaked center. He touched the damp spot on your panties and chuckled, then moved them aside swiftly to part your folds. You gasped when he glided his finger over your clit, over and over and over, the pressure far too light.

Your own hands found their way up to clutch at his shirt, you didn’t want to admit that you were holding him close to you. That you didn’t want him to pull away.

“Open up for me baby.” he bit at your ear as he lifted your leg to wrap around his hip, you were spread open for him while he wrapped his arm around your waist to grab at your ass. He was doing this to you during a school trip. This was a low you never thought you’d sink to.

“Just as I thought, look how wet you are - and how tight-” He slid two fingers into you and you moaned, they were thick and you were so turned on it hurt. “Don’t worry baby I’m going to take care of you, make you cum, fuck this tight pussy with my fingers - have to cum fast for me okay? We have to get back. Can you do that? Can you cum for me?” He was kissing your neck and licking your pulse point.

“Answer me, or I'll stop, be a good girl for me.” His fingers pulled out and you whimpered - grabbing at his forearm to pull it back because you needed to cum. He brought his fingers up to your mouth and you looked into his eyes as he rubbed your arousal onto your lips. Your knees almost gave out at the depravity of it, in public. While your students and the other parents waited for you. He was expecting an answer.

“Yes.” Your face was beet red and flushed and the word sealed your fate. He kissed you, rough and fast and it took your breath right out of your lungs. His tongue licked your slick off your lips and plundered your mouth while he fulfilled his promise. His fingers diving back into you, this time with the addition of his thumb on your clit.

You could vaguely hear the wet squelch of your cunt as he sped up. It was so good, it was everything and all you needed was a little push to finally leap into the abyss.

“Come on baby, you’re so fucking wet for me. I think you can take another finger.” The noises were obscene and the stretch was so good - he curled his fingers and touched something white hot and it made you cry out a little louder than you should have. His hand came up and clamped over your mouth and the filth came again. “There it is- that’s what you like right baby? Come on, cum for daddy.” You fell apart then. It was disgusting and you’d never cum this hard in your life.

You were vaguely aware of him fixing your clothes, of him licking every drop of your slick from his fingers.

You were blissed out as you walked back to the table on shaky legs, the guilt creeped in though as you slowly drifted back down to reality, you’d been gone for longer than you thought.

“Sorry about that - we got completely turned around, this place is a maze huh?” Dave spoke, quelling the annoyed looks from the other parents and smoothing it out with practised charm.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look anyone in the eye.

-----

It was hard to focus for the remainder of the trip. You could feel his eyes on you as you wound your way around the different exhibits.

The turmoil between your brain and your body threatened to drive you into madness - you could still feel him inside you and it caused your heart to race, to excite you. Your brain was scolding you. How could you let him do that to you?

Oh Charlie

——

The bus ride back to the school was a bit better, one of the other parents sat beside you and it was as if you could almost pretend that everything was normal. Or you would have been able to - had you not been able to feel David's eyes boring into the back of your head. It was a long ride home.

The school busses were waiting when you pulled into the school and you had to hurry to get your kids to your classroom to get their things. After you made sure they were okay and on the bus you went about getting ready to go home. There was a text from an unknown number in your phone - you didn’t have to guess who it was from.

Be a good girl, and free up a couple of hours for me this Sunday. I will come and get you.

You answered before you could even contemplate what it meant.

Okay.

You didn’t even bother wondering how he would know where to go.

You sat in your car, in one of the parking spaces you and Charlie had. You could see his car next to yours and you had no idea how the hell you were going to walk in there and pretend nothing had happened. How could you have done this, moreover how could you have agreed to see David again?

I’ll tell him it has to stop. Whatever it was that we did it was a horrible mistake.

Your heart was racing as you got off the elevator, every step down the hallway was another lump of stone settling in the pit of your stomach. Charlie was in the shower when you got home - you could hear the water running and all you could think of was how you were sure he’d be able to see what you did written on your face. Another stone.

“Hey babe, how was the trip?” he was all smiles and the accusatory pointed finger in your face never came. Instead he walked over to you and hugged you tightly, little beads of water dripping from his hair onto your shoulder.

“It was good, how was your day?” His voice lulled you, made you want to forget everything you’d done and it was easier trying to put the whole thing out of your mind than think about it in front of Charlie. It was a stupid mistake and it wasn’t even worth remembering. On Sunday it would be fixed. You were going to tell David to fuck off and then everything would go back to normal.

“It was good - I was thinking we could go out for dinner tonight. What do you think?” He was all smiles, all sweetness.

“Sure babe.” You tried to be happy. You tried to focus, but you could still feel the stretch of David’s fingers when you moved.

----

I’ll be there in an hour, wear something pretty for me.

The text came in and your heart started racing. You had told Charlie that you were going to the school to prepare some work for tomorrow and he had just smiled and nodded. Told you to take your time - that he loved you.

You were determined to tell David that this was not going to become a thing. It was not going to escalate. You conveniently ignored the fact that you wore your cutest sundress, your sheer panties, the matching bra. It was a confidence thing. Nothing to do with David.

I’m here.

You practically ran out the door. It was to end things, you were in a hurry to end things. There was a big SUV waiting in the visitors parking lot and you saw him sitting, looking at his phone. He smiled when he saw you and you felt the butterflies in your stomach as you got into the front seat. He gave you a once over, the shortness of your dress, the fact that your hair was done - and smiled as he drove away from your building; from your life.

Tell him, tell him to turn around and to take you back home. To leave you alone forever.

“Where are we going?” Was what came out when you opened your mouth.

“Somewhere we can be alone.” Was all he said, his hand moved and rested on your thigh as he drove. You stared at it and to your shame and excitement, you didn’t move it away. He gripped your thigh possessively, stroking the inside of it and it made you ache.

Do it - move his hand away, tell him - go on.

You put your hand on his, but you couldn’t move it away. The heat from his big palm was seeping into your skin and instead you just pressed his hand with yours.

Pathetic.

You were in an abandoned parking garage a little while later and he parked in a far corner. Your blood was pumping and you were nervous. He unbuckled his seatbelt and moved his seat all the way back, so he was far away from the steering wheel.

“David, I don’t think-” You started speaking but he cut you off.

“Come over here.” He tapped his lap and your stomach dropped, you wanted to crawl over there so bad. You stared at him and he raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to be a brat? Come over here, if I have to ask again you’re going to be punished.” You felt the wave of arousal wash over you. What could he possibly mean? You didn’t want to find out - not yet anyway.

You crawled over the console awkwardly and sat in his lap, straddling him. He smiled at you and settled his hands on your thighs.

“Such a good girl for me, did you think about me?” He lifted your dress slightly and grabbed handfuls of your ass. You couldn’t help but groan, you could feel him hardening underneath you and you didn’t even register your hands coming up to wrap around his neck. They seemed to play with the hair at the nape of his neck on their own. How could he excite you so much? “Answer me baby, when I ask you a question you need to answer me.” He was kissing your neck, and slowly undoing the buttons of your sundress.

“Yes.” You breathed as he exposed your bra, the lace so fine it was completely transparent. He smiled as he studied you. Face flushed, dress bunched up around your thighs, lips parted.

“What did you think about?” He runs the pads of his fingers across the tops of your breasts as he speaks and you can’t even begin to rationalise why you’re doing this.

“I thought about you…” you tried to be coy but you knew he wouldn’t leave it there.

“What about me, did you think about me touching you? Tell me.” He separates his body from yours, you can see that he wants you to answer before he continues. You can feel your face getting flushed.

“I thought about what we did at the museum, your hands…” you unconsciously tried to get closer to him and he smiled. He smelled so good, you could feel his cock and it made you ache.

“You thought about my hands? Be specific, baby. Tell me what you thought about.” He started kissing the tops of your breasts, slowly making his way down, kissing every inch he could reach through the fabric. You could feel the slick pooling at your entrance, you knew what he wanted. Your mind briefly went back to Charlie, to how he was intimidated by dirty talk.

“I thought about how I could still feel your fingers in my pussy when I got home. They stretched me so good.” Your face was beet red and your skin was on fire. This was what he wanted. He rewarded you by pulling your bra down, exposing your breasts. Your nipples were hard and begging for his mouth and he obliged; pulling you close so he could wrap his lips around one. His mouth was hot and you could feel his teeth just a little. Just enough to make you moan.

“Such a good girl for me, now you get a reward for being so good for daddy.” He bit your nipple a little harder than you thought and there was a bit of pain but it felt so good you let out a breathy moan. You felt him sucking and in the back of your mind, you knew this would leave a mark. Warning bells were going off, he couldn’t leave a mark. Charlie couldn’t see this.

He let go of one nipple to give the same attention to the other - it was so good you had to clutch at the back of his head, you wanted him closer. All thoughts of the marks forgotten when his tongue felt so good.

“Does it feel good? How wet are you right now baby?” He honed in on your nipple again, holding your breasts in his big hands and alternating between the two.

“Yes, god yes - it feels so good. I’m so wet for you…” All you could do was watch, watch as he licked and licked and licked until you were dizzy from the pleasure. Until you thought you might faint, until your nipples were overly sensitive and you could see the hickeys and the little bite marks.

“Show me how wet you are.” He pulled off and let you scoot back a little, you pulled your dress up and he saw the wet patch on your underwear. It was so bad it had soaked through onto his lap. The bulge in his jeans- a little darker. He groaned and skimmed his knuckle against the damp spot at your core and you shuddered. You were so keyed up from the attention he’d given your breasts that it wouldn’t take much at this point.

He undid his jeans and pulled himself out - his cock was so thick, your eyes widened - momentarily nervous. This whole thing just became real. Touching and words could be justified as a temporary madness, you didn’t know what you were doing. Sex, letting him fuck you - that would be the final line to cross. He saw the hesitation in your eyes.

You watched his hand grasp his cock and slowly start to stroke it between your legs, a pearly bead of precum on the head before his thumb swiped through it. Using it to make the strokes more fluid. He let you watch - saw your tongue lick your lips and he let you make the choice.

He waited for you to make the choice, but he didn’t make it easy.

“You see baby? You see how hard you make daddy's cock? I think about you, about how pretty you would look with it in your mouth, in your throat. About you bouncing on it - fucking you deep. Fucking my cum into you until you’re full of me.” He was working himself up, you could hear the slick strokes and you clenched, you needed him inside you.

Wordlessly, you pulled your panties to the side and scooted closer.

“Tell me. Tell me what you want.” He didn’t stop stroking and you felt yourself getting desperate. You were about to let this married man fuck you in his car, in the middle of a parking garage in broad daylight. You couldn’t remember ever being this excited in your life.

“I want your cock, I want you to fuck me - please.” You were not above begging right now.

He was merciful - he pulled you closer and rubbed his cock through your folds once - then he slid inside. The stretch made you gasp. It hurt a little bit, even with how wet you were.

“Look how well you’re taking me baby, I know it’s a lot - so tight, god you feel so good.” He rested his head on your chest while he let you get accustomed. “Need to get you a little wetter, wet enough to take my big cock.” He focused on your nipples again, making you cry out. You were so full and your nipples were so sensitive you didn’t think you could take any more.

“Please - please move, please make me cum.” You were so overwhelmed you were on the verge of tears. He bucked up once and you gasped - he was pressed up against the spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars and you were moaning, you rolled your hips and as he bucked up into you and you knew the coil was about to snap. He snaked his hand down - pressing his thumb to your clit. Your slick was drenching his lap and you told him i’m gonna cum and he gripped your ass to really buck up and when you came he bit at your breast again.

“God you’re pussy gets so fucking wet when you cum, fuck - squeezing me so fucking tight, I’m going to think about this cunt later.” He came with a groan - open mouthed kisses on your breasts. You could feel his cum dripping out of you and you gave a silent prayer that you were on birth control.

You were not a virgin. You’d had sex before - you’d had good sex before. This wasn’t good sex. This was great sex -this was otherworldly and it scared you with how good you felt. Even with the bites and hickeys on your tits. How were you supposed to hide this? It was hard to feel the guilt when he was rubbing your back like this, when he was kissing your neck and loving you like this.

“You did so good baby - such a good girl for me.” He pulled you down to him by the back of your neck and he kissed you - his tongue running along the seam of your mouth. You granted him entrance and it was consuming, your hands gripped his hair and you clenched around him. He rewarded you with a groan into your mouth. Even with the guilt you couldn’t get close enough. His praise was like a tonic - you needed it and his kisses. You whimpered into his mouth and he knew. He knew what you needed. “My best girl, my beautiful girl. Took me so well, made me cum with that pretty pussy.” He kissed your neck and rubbed your back lovingly and you felt like a cat in a bright patch of sun under his praise. Cuddly and satiated as you burrowed into the crook of his neck.

“A few more minutes and then we have to go home.” He spoke into your hair as he let you take your comfort.

----

“You okay babe?” Charlie's voice startled you when you walked into the apartment, your tote bag full of school things, untouched on your shoulder.

“Yes - why?” You answered too quickly - you expected him to see everything written on your face. You could still feel David's cock inside you, his cum currently pooled in your panties. Could feel your breasts were a little sore from his attention and that excited you more than it had any right to.

“Nothing just looks like you’ve seen a ghost - did you get a lot done? I made dinner by the way - your favourite.” He smiled from the couch, he was playing video games which was good. Would mean he wouldn’t intrude on you in the bathroom. The guilt was hot and heavy in your gut but you plastered a smile on your face.

“Yeah, lots of activities planned for the kids tomorrow. Thanks babe- i’m going to shower quickly.” You smiled and came over to kiss him on the forehead quickly. Making sure not to linger too quickly. You had no idea if you smelled like David. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Okay honey, I’ll wait for you to eat.” He went back to his game.

----

This was not good.

You were staring at yourself in the mirror naked, your breasts were full of hickeys, little bruises. Your nipples were puffy from David’s mouth and the soreness between your legs was insistent. The tell tale heart only it was under your clothes instead of your floorboards.

How the fuck am I going to hide this?

The lips of your sex were sensitive when you washed, you kept replaying the whole thing over in your mind and you still couldn’t believe you’d done this. Not only had you done it, you’d enjoyed it immensely. His words, god his words.

You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help but compare them, Charlie and David. Polar opposites, especially in how they made you feel.

Charlie was dependable, he was home - pure comfort and love.

David was excitement, sex and filth and he made you so wet you couldn’t stand it. When he called you his good girl something inside you luxuriated, something was fulfilled that you didn't even realize needed fulfilling. You knew though, you knew this had to be a one time thing.

It couldn’t continue - you ignored that thing inside you that slithered, whispered that you couldn’t stop now - it was too good. You were really good at ignoring things it seemed.

It could have been considered cruel that Charlie’s blind acceptance of your excuse as to why you didn’t want to have sex annoyed you. You ignored that too.

---

David smiled at the wet spot on his jeans when pulled into his driveway.

You had been so responsive, so open to his touch. So receptive of his words and his actions.

The look on your face when he had your tits in his mouth had made him so painfully hard, he was rougher than he meant to be. His original plan had been to ease you into it - soft touches and soft words until he knew you were ready but that little dress, the sheer bra. You were going to be trouble and he couldn’t wait.

It was clear that whoever the jackass was you were engaged to - he wasn’t doing you justice. He wasn’t wringing pleasure out of you like he should be. He could see how much you had enjoyed his attention - even the roughness, the bites and the marking. Thinking about those marks and hickeys on your nipples excited him even now.

He was glad he was home alone - he could put his clothes to wash.

He had so many plans.

---

You managed to put David out of your mind when you went back to work. Your kids took up so much of your energy and it was nice to feel normal, you went so far as to delete his messages on your phone. Not before you saved his name as D, but nevermind that.

After a few days with no contact, you could almost pretend that you had hallucinated the whole thing. Until you saw the -thankfully- fading hickeys on your chest. You had told Charlie that you weren't feeling your best, that you wanted to keep your shirt on during your coupling and as always he agreed happily.

Seemed he could sense your inner peace, a message had come through late in the week while you were on your lunch break.

Free up Saturday night, be ready by 8

Your heart was racing, you could feel it in your clit. You didn’t answer, you wanted to make sure you could actually get away before responding but he didn’t like that. Another text came through.

I expect an answer.

Okay.

You texted back quickly.

Okay what…?

Oh god - you knew what he wanted you to write and it felt so wrong, so dirty but it excited you so much.

Okay daddy.

You blushed and covered your face, almost embarrassed, needing to see his reply but not wanting to face it at the same time.

That’s my good girl. Saturday at 8.

His praise was everything, it made your heart sing, made you feel light and giddy. You like being his good girl don’t you? That slithering thing again - you ignored it. It shamed you that the only thing you could do for the rest of the day, was try to think of a way to get rid of Charlie for the weekend.

—-

Charlie seemed pleasantly surprised, you had -very sneakily- messaged his best friend Jack that he should plan a boys weekend. That you thought he needed to have some fun. To stop thinking about the wedding. Oh god the wedding.

Jack had told you that Charlie was lucky you were so cool and that he’d plan something.

“Are you sure babe? I don’t have to go- it’s just a weekend at Jack’s cottage but I’m sure it’ll be fine if you came or if I stayed here.” You could see he wanted you to be happy, you stomped away the guilt.

“No you go ahead, Jack will be happy to have the boys there without the girlfriends or fiancé’s.” You gave him your most convincing smile. He smiled, promising that if you needed anything he would come back at the drop of a hat.

Not likely. You stomped the slithering thing down too.

----

Charlie left on Thursday night, Jack insisted they stay there until Monday morning and you talked Charlie into going. You relished the idea of being alone, pretending at least in some fucked up part of your brain that you were single. That David was single - just two single adults without families, without any responsibilities or commitments.

When Saturday finally came you were on edge, you had started getting ready a couple of hours before in your excitement. You didn’t want to delve too deep into what that meant but nevertheless.

You focused your energy on making sure your hair looked good, moisturizing your skin - meaningless things that took up your time and helped you conveniently ignore that you were prepping for sex with a married man while your fiance was with his friends.

I’m here.

Your heart leapt, you spritzed your best perfume and made your way out. You couldn’t help but smile as you made your way down.

He was serious when you got into the car and for a moment you were afraid you’d displeased him somehow, it should have worried you how much you craved his approval - his praise.

“Hi.” You said shyly - hoping he’d notice your dress but he didn’t. He drove without a word. What had happened? You thought back to how he had comforted you - held you close and rubbed your back. You wanted that, you wanted a little tenderness before the filth came. It seemed as though he sensed your panic and he placed his hand on your thigh- it calmed you more than it should have.

“Hi baby.” he gave you a little smile and the slithering thing stretched and luxuriated. Everything was okay.

“Where are we going?” You asked him - even though you knew he probably wouldn’t tell you but he surprised you.

“To my house - I’m going to fuck you in my bed.” He spoke casually, completely unphased. His eyes focused on the road, on the streetlights and signs. He couldn’t see how your heart leapt, how the heat spread from your face to your ears, leaving splotches of pink on your chest.

“But - what about?” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, your wife.

“She took the girls to their grandparents - I have the house to myself for the weekend. So i’m going to take advantage. Going to take you home - spread you out on my bed and I’m going to do all of the things I’ve been thinking about this whole week.” He spoke as he turned onto a neat little street, full of spaced out homes. Houses that screamed soccer moms and wall-street dads. White picket fences and minivans.

The house both matched him and it didn’t. It made sense that he’d be able to afford this - your thoughts went back to the designer bag Mrs. York brought to your meeting. The SUV you were sitting in had leather seats, it was probably brand new, Carol probably drove a Mercedes. They obviously had money.

You noticed that the lights outside the house were off - didn’t want his neighbours to see him bringing a woman who was definitely not his wife home on a Saturday night. He guided you to the house wordlessly and the guilt reared its ugly head at the sight of two bikes, casually tossed onto the porch. This man was married; had a family and here you were - wet and itching to get underneath him.

It was worse when you got in the house, his wife very much present in all things. Her shoes at the door, her sweater draped over a tasteful sectional. Little avatars of his children were scattered here too - dolls clothes, the evidence of a school project you had assigned. Graded work and colourful pictures drawn by little hands held up by souvenir magnets on the fridge. Visible even from outside the kitchen. Evidence of his life which shouldn’t have had any space for you.

Tell him to take you home right this minute your brain berated you. Your conscience was begging you to take back your life- this could only end badly. You thought of your upcoming wedding, of your sweet fiance who doted on you. On the boring unfulfilling sex the slithering thing added.

You thought all these things and more, but your legs carried you wherever he led. Your pussy dripped for him, your mouth stayed shut. Instead you followed him dutifully up the stairs - passed rooms with colourful block letters, rooms his daughters slept in. The cream coloured carpet under your feet was plush and it cushioned the sound of your steps - steps that took you passed a home office. You could see him there, sitting and working while his daughters played. While his wife cooked dinner.

You had no business here and yet, you kept walking.

The bedroom was tasteful, it was decorated with soft colours, taupes and beiges. The bed was neatly made - piled high with pillows and cushions. You could see them on this bed, David and Carol here, fucking in this bed. It was a curious feeling, you weren’t jealous; you had no reason to be. You had Charlie and he had Carol, was he looking for the same thing in you that you had found in him? He didn’t seem like the kind of man to settle.

You were looking around; so lost in your thoughts you barely heard him approach you and before you knew it he was wrapped around you and the thoughts melted away. His hands burned a path across your skin wherever they touched you.

“I fuck my wife in this bed. I fuck her and think of you. I think about how wet you got when I got your tits out. How wet you get when you cum.” he spoke into your ear and you had to take a deep breath, the ease with which he spoke to you like this was astounding. He walked you toward the bed until you had no choice but to sit.

“You look so pretty when you blush baby.” he ran his hand through your hair, gripping it a little tight, pulling it back so your neck was craned up to him - it pulled a gasp out of your mouth.

“I keep thinking about you like this - looking up at me.” He was taking in everything about you - his gaze travelling the length of your body. “I don’t want to have to ask you things twice tonight. I know you’re going to be a good girl. Are you excited?”

“Yes, very excited.” You answered quickly and he smiled.

“Open your mouth for me baby, show daddy how excited you are.” He started undoing his pants and you unconsciously scooted closer to him. Everything about him lit a fire within you and the thought of his cock in your mouth was making you drool.

He was already hard, you looked up at him through your lashes; tongue out and ready.

“My pretty girl - look at you, so gorgeous like this. Mouth open ready for my cock.” He held himself in one hand while the other held your chin. You licked the bead of precum from the tip and almost moaned. “Tongue out.” He thrust into your mouth slowly- letting you get accustomed to his size, pushing a little deeper each time. You made to raise your hands but he pulled away.

“No baby, not yet, let me fuck your mouth, be good for me - get your tits out for me.” You moaned as you pulled your shirt and bra down. He groaned at the faint marks on your nipples from the last time you were together and continued.

You were so wet, you could feel your panties sticking to you. You sat there as still as you could while he repeatedly slid his cock into your mouth. He would push until he hit your throat and wait until you gagged and then pull out, until you felt the tears sliding down your cheeks. You felt depraved with his precum and your spit dripping onto your chest but the sounds he was making were worth it.

“Look at you, so fucking pretty like this baby, you’re being so good, such a good girl for me. I could cum just like this.” You moaned at his words, at his praise, at the taste of him. He switched your positions so you were standing between his spread legs on the bed. He slowly took your clothes off, kissing your stomach as he went.

“Look at that- look how wet this pretty pussy is. Is all this from having my cock in your mouth baby?” He ran his fingers along your lower lips, all pretty and glossy for him. He kept his touch feather light while he waited for a response.

“Yes, yes you make me this wet, your hands, your mouth, your cock - you.” You brought your hands up to touch his hair and he let you, his hand keeping that slow rhythm - driving you mad with want. He licked at your nipples again while you stood there, steadily gripping his hair tighter and tighter. He pulled away momentarily to take the rest of his clothes off, and when he was done you walked over to him again but before you could mount him he got up and walked around to the side of the bed facing a full length mirror.

You made to straddle him but he stopped you, turning you so you faced away from him; he wanted you to see yourself.

“Look at you, look at how pretty you look. You’re going to watch as Daddy fucks you. We’re both going to watch you bounce on my cock.” He kissed your hip, and bit at your asscheek playfully. You swallowed hard, thinking back to Charlie and knew he never would have thought of this.

He pulled you down and guided himself into your soaked center- the stretch of him making you groan and flutter around him. He spread your legs with his knees, you could see where you were joined in the mirror and the vision of you like that was dizzying. You could hardly recognize yourself like this, your skin was flushed, lips parted, hair dishevelled. You could still see your spit on your chest - you gasped when he bucked up.

“Look how well you take me? Look how well you're taking my cock, does it feel good? Do you like watching?” He moved his hands from their steady grip at your hips, up to grab your tits.

“Yes - god yes Daddy, it feels so good.” You were unhinged. Feeling his cock splitting you open was one thing, seeing it disappear into your body brought the whole thing to another level.

“My best girl, this is my pussy. Mine.” His movements were getting frantic and you couldn’t help but moan, your slick soaking his lap at his words. “Say it, tell me it’s mine.” He brought one hand down to rub perfect little circles at your clit and your climax raced up to hit you. You came with a god yes and he stilled his movements. Your cunt squeezing him so tightly he could barely move. He stood up quickly and put your hands up against the mirror without pulling out.

“Hold still for me, I want you to watch yourself get fucked.” You moaned, you were so wet the sounds were obscene, a wet slap against your ass. It was so dirty, the way he grabbed at you. The way he held your shoulder so he could fuck you harder than you’d ever been fucked and it was too much. You felt on the verge of tears at the intensity but he kept going, until you felt him cum inside you. Felt him dripping out of you and onto that lush carpet.

You couldn’t remember how many times he’d made you cum. All you knew was you were tired, your body spent, your cunt was sore, your tits were sore - your muscles. Everything - but still he wanted more.

He pulled you into the shower to wash your combined pleasure off, but he coaxed more pleasure out of you with his fingers as the water soothed you slightly.

You laid in his bed, maybe even in Carol’s spot with his head between your thighs. He told you how good your pussy tasted, how he owned it; and he did.

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

*let me know if you don't want to be tagged in all things Pedro*

As always - thanks to you my angels for letting me send random passages and long pieces of writing for your opinions lol - I literally wouldn't post without you. @foli-vora 💖@frannyzooey 💖 @mouthymandalorian💖

Tag list: @frannyzooey @foli-vora @danniburgh @sambucky21 @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @mouthymandalorian @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl @sleep-tight1 @softdindjxrin @wheresarizona @sherala007 @marydjarin @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @lori-tovar @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @greeneyedblondie44 @maxwell--lord @princessxkenobi @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @thisshipwillsail316

#dave york x reader #dave york #dave york x you #suburban murder daddy #dave york pit #dave york fanfiction #equalizer 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #dave york x fem!reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader

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feelin-woozy · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Stoke The Fire

Word Count: 1984

Pairing: Bo Sinclair x female!reader

Warnings: Daddy kink, breeding, degradation, dumbification

Thanks @slasherrabbitmadness for the inspiration and the absolute brain rot that she has given me with the idea of dilf!Bo :) go check out her dilf Bo stuff because it's,,, chefs kiss.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to spend time over at Bo’s house; it became almost like a second home over the years. Your father and Bo have a relationship that bloomed from the moment they entered business together a few years back. It wasn’t easy to imagine what life was like before Bo became so close to your family.

A warm summer breeze blows past you, ruffling the soft saffron colored cotton of your dress against your thighs. Of course, you don’t miss the way Bo’s blue eyes dart to the newly exposed flesh of your thigh, but beyond that, he doesn’t make a move, just sips the beer in his hand and takes another easy drag off the cigarette.

Your dad is prattling on about this and that, talking about some jackoff who tried to rip him off the other day at work claiming that his rate was ludacris and that there were a dozen other mechanics that could do it for cheaper. And sure, that may have been true, but the quality wasn’t there. It wasn’t biased, perhaps a little, but it was still a well known fact that your dad and Bo ran the best mechanic shop in town; it’s why they got away with the rates they charged. And there was always a sense of taking care of the community, their community, that had the townsfolk whipped and willing to shell out the money.

The lively strumming of guitars swirled around you, and you bounced your leg to the steady beat of the Seether song that played over the speakers. It was heavier than the usual stuff that your dad played around the house, but then there were many things about Bo that were heavier. Perhaps that’s why they worked so well together.

Your attention is drawn away from the melodic beat and easy going conversation between Bo and your dad when a small hand tugs at the hem of your dress. You turn your head to look down at the young girl, blue eyes staring up at you with a smile that lacked a few teeth. You return the smile to her, waiting for her to speak and voice whatever thoughts swirled around in that head of hers.

You had nearly forgotten that Oliva was here with the three of you. Bo’s time with her split with his ex-girlfriend, who he had some choice words about every time she was brought up. The young girl was undeniably Bo’s child through unruly brown hair bouncing with every shift she made and blue eyes that were carbon copies of her father’s. You couldn’t help but wonder what she got from her mother; Bo didn’t have any photos of her around the house.

“Will you come play with me?” She reaches for your hands, her skin slightly sticky from God knows what, but you don’t pull away; you just give her hand a small squeeze in return.

“Olive, sweetie, don’t bug her. Go play by yourself okay?” Bo says softly, a sort of sternness shining through his words. You lift your gaze to look at Bo, and you catch a glimpse of fondness that softens the lines of his face. Olivia whines, eyebrows furrowing as if she’s about to pitch a fit at Bo’s words.

“It’s okay Bo,” You smile at him, wide and radiant as you get to your feet without letting go of Olivia’s hand. “I don’t mind.”

Bo just nods his head with a bit of a shrug before turning his attention to your dad again. However, you don’t miss the way his eyes surveil you as Olivia drags you to the small backyard park that Bo and your dad had built together the previous summer.

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

It’s almost two weeks later when you find yourself bent over the laminate countertop, hands scrambling for purchase as you’re pushed forward again and again. You hadn’t even been here for five minutes, coming by only to grab some tools for your dad to borrow, wearing that same saffron dyed dress you had worn last time that you were over here. Bo’s worn trucker hat lost to the linoleum, jeans pushed only half way down his thighs, leaving his belt to jangle incessantly with every movement. The edge of the countertop digs into your hip bones saved only for the dress that’s bunched up over the curve of your ass. It does little to pad and protect you against the vicious rocking of Bo’s hips, but it’s better than nothing.

“Been thinkin’ about this sweet pussy every fuckin’ day,” Bo groans, grimey fingers curling into your hips and dragging you back against himself. He stays put for a moment, keeping your bodies pressed flushed together. “Been thinkin’ about knocking you up.”

The way your pussy flutters around his length is indecorous, the whimper you let out even more so. But it can’t be helped; hearing the filth that dripped from Bo’s lips always had that effect on you, but there was something about the way he said it that made your insides churn. The serious edge to his words that wasn’t there the times you had fucked prior, the way his words turned from a pipe dream to something that could be a reality.

“Does my baby like that idea?” Bo titters, the noise breathless and broken. A testament to the effect that this was having on him as well. “Like the thought of me fuckin’ a baby into you?”

“Fuck, Bo.” Your head drops, cheeks pressing into the chilled countertop. You don’t even pretend like this wasn’t doing it for you, hips rocking back against his to tempt him into staying true to your word. “Yeah, yeah fuck.”

He leans over you, the thin cotton t-shirt dragging along your sweat-slicked back as he pressed his lips to your neck, teeth catching the rosy skin. For a moment, you think that he was about to leave a mark to bloom against your skin, a small sign over ownership that would have you avoiding your parents’ home till the skin healed, and you could look them in the eyes once more.

“Gunna have to get you off that birth control of yours,” Bo murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek before he pulls away again, looming over you and admiring the way he has you splayed out like a wrecked mess in his kitchen. The windows open, and the back sliding door cracked so neighbors would be able to hear every little indecent noise that passed your lips like a mantra. You were glad for the arborvitae that lined the fence. It gave you some privacy, even if it wasn’t much, and it did ease your nerves considerably. “After that, maybe I’ll just keep you on my cock day ‘n night till I know it took.”

Your hands curl into fists at the thought, knuckles blanching under the force. The idea has your mind melting; nothing has ever sounded so perfect to you. It was almost insane how easily Bo got you cockdrunk, how easily he bent you to every whim that crossed his mind. But there was something about his smile, his scent, the way he could play you as if the two of you were made for each other that left you a strung out fanatic.

“Tell me how badly you want it,” Bo growls, nails cutting crescent shaped moons into your hips. If he wasn’t dragging you so perfectly through the trenches of pleasures, the pain might have brought you from the lust addled fog, but instead, it only shoves you down further. It made you feel like you were drowning, drowning in his words, the scent of sex that hung headily around you, the obscene noises that sounded like your own but were so far away, the way skin slapped against each other and the wet noises of your pussy dripping around his thick cock. It was all too much, and you knew it would only be a matter of time before your orgasm swept you pitilessly under the current. “Come on baby, if you wanna cum you gotta tell Daddy how badly you want it.”

A sob tears through your chest, thighs shaking as you’re forced onto the points of your toes with each thrust. Bo laughs above you cruelly, not once slowing down and allowing you a moment of reprieve to find your words. There was a satisfaction in seeing the way he strung you along, bringing you so close to the edge, and you knew that if you didn’t give in, give him what he wanted, he would pull away.

It wouldn’t have been the first time. There had been many times he’d pull out only to jerk himself off to completion and paint your pussy, or your panties, only to force you to wear his cum as a reminder. So you try with a renewed desperation, to try and formulate anything of sense before Bo had the chance to pull out of you.

“I-I fuck,” You stutter, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Every time the words were cocked and loaded on your tongue, the way he brushed against that spot within you had them rolling off your tongue in the form of drool. If it didn’t feel so fucking good, it would’ve been beyond humiliating.

“You look fuckin’ pathetic like this,” Bo sneers, hips stuttering. You knew he was close, his words coming out a sharp rasp as each thrust was punctuated with a guttural growl. “Just an empty headed slut made to be knocked up. S��okay baby, Daddy will take care of you.”

That’s what sends you over the edge, cunt clenching down like a vice around the cock plowing into you. It must have been good because you’re distantly aware of the sound of Bo choking on a noise within his throat. And God, do you wish that you were more aware and not floating listlessly through the waves of pleasure so you could see just how wrecked Bo was. You wanted to acknowledge the way graying brown hair clung to his forehead, cheeks flushed as he gritted his teeth. It was always one of your favorite sights. A low moan tumbles from the two of you at the feeling of warmth filling you, the gentle pulsing of his cock as he empties himself within you.

The two of you remained like that for a moment, and you silently wished it would never end as you tried to quell your racing heart and the rapid movement of your chest. Then, when Bo begins to pull out, you whine, but he only snickers, fingers moving from your hips to dance along your folds, running through the slick and cum that dripped out.

“Ya mean it?” You whine softly, pressing back as he pushes cum back inside of you.

“Mean what, baby?” Bo muses, fingers moving at a taunting pace. You crane your neck a bit to stare up at Bo, catching the post sex bliss that overlays his face, the smug look that only makes your stomach twist, thighs clenching.

“Are you going to knock me up?” Your tongue flicks out over your lower lip, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thick fingers stretching you open once more. Bo groans low in his throat at the thought, and you peek your eye open to catch sight of the twisted grin on his face and the dark intent that swirled within blue eyes.

“Course I am,” Bo says matter of factly as he pulls his fingers out of you, reaching down to grab the lace panties you wore and pull them back up over you. With a pat on your ass, he begins to tuck himself back into his pants, walking over to the fridge. “Would be a shame to let that pretty pussy a’ yours to go to waste.”

#Bo Sinclair x Reader #Bo Sinclair x You #Bo Sinclair #House of Wax #House of Wax 2005 #Slasher x You #Slasher x Reader #my writing #daddy kink tw

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ac3id · 4 years ago

Text

“watch and learn,” | 18+

pairings: incel sakusa x fem!reader x ushijima

summary: sakusa gets tired of watching you take advantage of his friend, so he takes matters into his own hands to teach you a lesson. fortunately for him, ushijima feels the same

warnings: noncon, humiliation, voyeurism, anal, hate fucking.

a/n: this was high-key inspired by @vermiliren ‘s sakusa and ushijima concepts,,, love you <3

wordcount.: 4k+

tagging: @minitaureland, @oikawoahh, @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa, @sunshine-fangs

dm to be added/ removed!

Sakusa has a problem.

Well, Sakusa has many problems, but this one in particular manages to drive him crazy.

It makes his blood boil and his cock hard, it’s an irritating itch he just can’t scratch which makes him absolutely mad.

One could say such a problem must be nerve-wracking; something which keeps you up all night wondering how you can overcome it. Maybe it’s family, maybe it’s financial. It must be a big deal, right? But luckily for Sakusa, it’s just you.

His problem is you, his teammate’s girlfriend.

It’s weird. Technically, there should be no reason for him to think of his teammate’s girlfriend as anything but just as another girl but his heart tells him another story.

Whenever he thinks of you, he either imagines punching your beautiful face until it’s stained with wine red blood or shoving his cock down all of your holes which he hears you cry in agony. He imagines filling you up with his cum, clearing you of all your filth. There’s really no in-between, but sometimes he imagines doing it both...in the same order.

But hey! Sakusa is a good guy, he would never do such a thing! He respects women and most certainly he respects you. He obviously doesn’t think you’re a whore or anything for talking to a guy who isn’t your boyfriend, Ushijima. But gosh, even you notch it up a lot.

He rarely ever sees you, only when you arrive at bars uninvited with Ushijima or when you come down to the volleyball tournaments for Ushijima or when you wait for Ushijima while he practices in the stadium or….. When you go down to the grocery store where he just happens to be….multiple times.

Maybe you’re getting food for Ushijima, but he’s sure his teammate’s not going to eat half the junk you buy. Ushijima has a body to maintain, his health is very important to him. All of that fast food is not going to work him any favors.

Don’t you cook for him? You know, like a woman should?

You see, Sakusa is a little old fashioned. He likes tradition and sincerely pesters everyone to follow it. So it’s not a big surprise when he expects the same from you or any female in general. In the past, he’s been called an incel; a man who hates women was it? But that’s definitely not him. He loves them. Especially when they are naked on his computer screen, getting pinned down by a man two sizes bigger than themselves.

Sometimes he imagines you and Ushijma in their place and way more often, he imagines him with you over there instead.

So, see? He doesn’t women. He loves them! But… some women get on his nerves.

Some women like you.

He would never admit this, but Sakusa follows you around only because he does not trust you for Ushijima. Even when Ushi’s around, you flirt with other men while he’s sitting right next to you with his arms wrapped around your shoulder. It gets worse when he is away.

He can always hear you make suggestive comments to the cute cashier in the store while he lurks away. He’s disgusted. He can’t understand why Ushijima still chooses to stay with you.

He’s dating a whore, you don’t care about him- you’re just having your fun. You’ll leave him once it gets over, you don’t like him. But you still have him entranced, so madly in love with you. Sukasa think-no, he knows it’s only because you’re good in bed. There’s no other reason for him to keep you around for so long, being a slut you probably know how to make a man feel good.

Sakusa understands that but it still bothers him. Like a good friend he is, he decides to tell Ushijima about you. It starts in the locker room after practice. Both of them stand together changing out of their sports gear, it was a tiring day, and the two men were tired. He’s surprised when Ushijima starts the conversation, midday through changing his shirt, he starts.

“So, what do you think of her?” Sakusa knows who he is talking about, you had come into the stadium that day to watch Ushijima practice, and he had spent the better half of his time glaring daggers and staring at you. Sakusa says your name cluelessly, “Yes, her.” Ushijima replies.

Sakusa clicks his tongue, “I think-” “Cut the bullshit, you’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Ushijima turns to him, his eyes dark and fatal. A frown rests on his face with his fists balled as if to throw a punch. Sakusa panics, not understanding why such an accusation could fall over his head.

“No- I- that’s not true!” he clarifies but Ushijima looks unmoved, “Then why the fuck do you keep looking at her?” the murderous glint in his eyes doesn’t disappear as he just gets angrier. A newfound fear forms within Sakusa, he had always respected Ushijima as a player and a man, he sure as hell didn’t want to start a fight with the green-haired man. He spills everything he knows, everything he’s seen.

The night when he spotted you kissing Atsumu, the relentless flirting, everything. It’s brutal, it breaks Ushijima’s heart but a necessary evil. He watches Ushijima’s spirit break when his eyes turn blank. He stares motionlessly on the floor, thinking. Sakusa feels the rage return, he’s so mad at you- how could you do this to anyone? All of you are the same, all women are the same but….but you are the worst!

Sakusa waits for a moment before speaking, “You can’t let her get away with this,” he starts. Ushijima looks up at him, listening diligently to his plan. “You should take revenge, don’t let her get away with this.” Revenge?

Ushijima’s eyes lit up at the word, many thoughts came into his mind when Sakusa said it. Revenge? Should he also kiss any of your friends behind your back? Should he be cold towards you? The idea of making you realize just how much you hurt him by lettering you experience the pain excited him. He loved you, he did but sometimes drastic measures have to be taken. “What should I do?” he asked impatiently, he wanted to find a way to fix his deteriorating relationship.

Sakusa pauses, his mind racing back to the many porn clips he has fapped to before and settling on which the big boyfriend destroys his little girlfriend’s pussy for cheating on him. “I’ll send a video.”

Later that night Ushijima receives a link from Sakusa, titled ‘boyfriend punishes girlfriend for cheating.’

“Wakatoshi?” you bask in confusion at the man standing next to your boyfriend at the front door. It was late at night and you were almost going to bed. Ushijima had texted you telling he’d be home late that night but you had managed to catch him just in time. You were not expecting his teammate to come along with him, though.

It was awkward, dressed only in some sleep shorts and Ushijima welcoming Sakusa in the house was weird. He never seemed to take his eyes off of you, you were genuinely creeped out. You let the two men talk in the living room while you headed to the kitchen to prepare them a little snack. They said they had already eaten but umm...hospitality? It was fine to both of them, they liked you better in the kitchen anyway.

“Have you tried a threesome before?” Sakusa asked, taking a seat. It was finally the day Ushijima was going to man up and teach you a lesson which you’d never forget. “No, I don’t like to share,” he replied. Sakusa nodded, “understandable.” they stood quiet for a second only for your humming to fill the room. Even though you were in the kitchen, your sweet melody still ringed till the other room. Ushijima threw Sakusa a knowing glance before he made his way to the kitchen to see you. Heading over next to you, he sized down your form.

Ushijima took a step forward, trapping you between the kitchen counter and his huge body. You bring your hands to his chest, keeping him at a distance from you and just feeling his warmth under your palms. You did this often, it wasn’t anything sexual. You just enjoyed feeling him under your fingertips.

“So, what’s his deal?” you ask, your voice low not to alert Sakusa sitting in the living room. It was late, very late. There was no reason for Ushijima to bring a friend over now, but if Sakusa needed a place to spend the night- that was a different story.

“He will go in sometime,” Ushijima answered back, his huge, warm palms caressing your cheeks. You lean into the touch as he looks down at you affectionately with pure innocent eyes until he can’t. The spell you have him under breaks and he remembers why Sakusa is here.

His thumb trails down to your lips, pushing against the soft and pillow-like features. You look at him in confusion, Surprised by his bold actions. Ushijima was a private person, seeing him act so suggestively while another man sat right in the next room shocked you...but you liked it.

You obediently open your mouth letting his digits enter your hot carven. A tingle of a dull, throbbing pull settles on your tongue as you frown. Looking up at Ushijima through your lashes, you watch him glare at you while he pinches your tongue between his two fingers.

You whine out, there was no lie that you like it rough but the unsettling expression on Ushijima's face frightened you.

“Do you remember the last time we went out for drinks with the team?” your eyes widened and your blood ran cold, you knew exactly what he was getting at. “Nod your fucking head, bitch.” his pinch grew tighter making you squeal harder and you hastily nodded. You heard footsteps ring as Sakusa appeared into the room. Turning your eyes to his immediately, asking him for assistance. You hope to see a reaction out of Sakusa, disgust at most- he’d tell you both to cut it out but Sakusa stood still with an unreadable expression. Was he not going to say anything?

Ushijima caught your attention back by pinching your tongue hard, once again. drool pooled in your mouth, slowly leaking past your lips. It was disgusting.

“That night, did you kiss Atsumu?”

He knew. This is why he was doing this, you could understand that, but why was Sakusa just watching?

Your gaze lowered to the floor and Ushijima let his fingers leave you, letting you talk. You kept your head down as you spoke. it was too heartbreaking, you knew you should have told Ushijima but for some reason you never did. you were sacred Ushijima would leave you.

“That night, Atsumu came onto me…. when you left me with him that day, he kissed me- I didn’t want him to..he just…” shaky breaths leave your lips as you recall the dreadful incident. Atsumu was drunk that night, he wasn’t thinking straight. He apologized to you sincerely the next day but the damage was done. you could still feel his uninvited touches roaming all over your body when he tried to grope you.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Ushijima turned to sakusa, the glare which was burning you now directed at him. Ushijima was furious at sakusa for accusing you but sakusa knew what he saw. he frowned at you, he remembers seeing you kissing the blonde back- you’re just lying now, trying to get out of this mess.

“She’s lying, I knew what I saw. don’t trust her,”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Who do you think you are?”

You scream at him with angry, glassy eyes immediately turning to Ushijima and begging him to not believe the dark-haired man. Sakusa watches you with calculating eyes, revising his next move. He knows he’s not going to let you go so easily, there’s only one reason he’s here tonight. And that’s to put a whore in her place, he’s not leaving until he gets a taste of you.

He starts again, “don’t listen to her, Ushijima. listen to me, I have no reason to lie to you I’m your friend.” He chooses his words carefully to manipulate Ushijima into siding with him.

Ushijima stares at you for a second before grabbing your wrist harshly, “it’ll be okay,” he whispers your name, pulling you along with him. you scream at him, trying to pull your hand out of his grasp as he thrusts your forward.

“Toshi’ stop. seriously, no. stop,” you cry and beg but he shows no mercy. He pulls you into your shared bedroom, throwing you on your shared bed. Sakusa quietly follows, locking the door behind him as he enters. “What should I do now?” Ushijima turns to sakusa who stands next to the door, his eyes run towards you and he watches you cowering on the bed. You curl yourself up, pushing your knees to your chest and burying your head in between. You sit at the edge of the bed, far away from the two men quiring in fear and dread. Sakusa had thought you’d be putting up more of a fight but seems like you knew your place. Besides there was no way you’d manage to win against the two giants, they’d crush you even before you can try.

“Do you not remember the video?” Sakusa asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening a porn site. He clicks on the video he had forwarded to Ushijima, the video starts normally; a man talking to his supposed girlfriend but he skips the clip forward to the part he wants to see.

“You seriously want me to do that to her?” Ushijima asks, frowning at the screen. The porn actress is bent over the actor’s lap as he showers her bottom with powerful slaps. Blistering her ass and making her cry.

Sakusa nods. Ushijima looks bad at your quivering form before whispering, “like a child?”

Truth to be told, Sakusa knew Ushijima was a softie and that he cared about your feelings. That was the difference between him and the ace. He loved you and he loved you a little too much, you were the first thing swimming in his mind and it may be defined by some as romantic, Sakusa thought differently.

The thought disgusted him, caring so much about a mere woman; the man has to be crazy. Don’t get it wrong, Sakusa loves women so much he’s cornering you like this but he also firmly believes that women have duties. And by what he can see between you and Ushijima, you’re not fulfilling them at all and Ushijima is too much of a pussy to make you fix your mistakes.

He’s just helping his bro out. xx

Sakusa doesn’t answer him, instead, he looks at him with a fixed glare. Ushijima clicks his tongue, he didn’t want to hit his girlfriend like a child but he didn’t want to disrespect his friend either. He thinks for a moment before turning to you, making up his mind he chooses to spank you. A small smile of satisfaction crosses on Sakusa’s face as he watched Ushijima approach you.

His knee dips down on the bed as he moves forward to get you, “Toshi’ please, I will never, never talk to any guy ever again. You don’t need to do this.” you beg. Your eyes are glassy and your face is flushed from crying. You look up at your boyfriend with pleading eyes, hoping he’d listen to you. Ushijima stops in his tracks, hesitating to get you. He thinks about, maybe he should let you-

“Ushijima.”

Sakusa’s stern voice pulls him back to reality, he clicks his tongue and grabs you by your arm pulling you with him to the opposite edge of the bed. You keep crying and begging but Ushijima doesn’t bat an eye as he pulls you over his lap. He presses his hand against your back to keep you from running away while the other paws at your sleeping shorts.

“Stop screaming,” Sakusa commands, but you never listen to him. “Is this okay?” Ushijima flashes Sakusa a perfect view of your naked ass, your panties, and discarded on the floor. Sakusa walks over, standing in front of Ushijima, he leans in to grab a handful of your ass but Ushijima pushes his hand away. “No touching,” he commands.

As if they put salt on the wound, Ushijima moves along to fondle your ass. Playing with the soft flesh, squeezing them, spreading them all to his liking. A small smile grazes his face and for the first time, he realizes how much smaller you are compared to him. It makes him feel mighty, he loves the power he holds over you right now. The thoughts about what he can do to you flow straight to his cock. You feel his ever-growing bulge poke at your stomach under his pants.

Sakusa picks up your panties from the floor and right over in front of you, he grabs your face with his hands, squishing cheeks before shoving the panties into your mouth shutting you up once and for all. Ushijima throws him a glare but decides to ignore it eventually. His hands roam over your back one last time before he brings it up into the air and slams it down onto your round ass swiftly.

You cry out in pain, your bare ass stinging and burning. You hope for your boyfriend to calm down but he doesn’t give you a break, repeatedly hitting your ass with no sign of mercy. You cry and wither around, mumbling words that get muffled behind the gag making it impossible for any of them to understand.

Sakusa patiently watches the scene in front of him, you’re crying in pain while Ushijima spanks you. It’s kind of like the scenes he always fantasized about, the only difference being it’s him who’s raining down slaps on your naked ass instead of Ushijima.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

“What?”

Sakusa wants to touch you, he wants to feel you under him. He’s not going to let himself watch you both doing it all night while he stands at the side with a raging boner and besides, Ushijima wasn’t hitting you hard enough. He pauses, looking up at Sakusa and you sigh in relief.

“You’re hitting her hard enough, at this rate she’ll never fear you,” he taunts and you frown. Your ass was already painfully red and swollen, you couldn't imagine how much longer you’d last.

In a flash, Ushijima pulled you on your feet, holding you by your arm. “You do it. I’m not enjoying this,” Sakusa’s eyes light up and he holds his urge to smile, he does not want to out himself.

“Watch and learn,”

He quietly walks over and changes roles, you squirm in his grip shaking your head no. You did not want to left under Sakusa’s touch at all, you had a feeling he hated you- which he did. He pulled you over his thighs where you could feeling his raging boner hit your stomach and just like Ushijima he started slapping your ass swiftly faster and much harder than your boyfriend.

They come without any warnings one after the other. You feel yourself tapping out now and then but a swift, harsh pull to your hair did just fine in waking you back into the nightmare. After Sakusa was done with abusing your ass, he started rubbing and playing with you. He squeezed your cheeks making you wince, spreading it open staring at your pulsing hole. His fingers even slipped down lower, dangerously close to your cunt.

“Sakusa,” Ushijima’s heavy voice cut through and Sakusa immediately lifted his hands off you. He pushed you down on the bed and removed the panties he had stuffed into your mouth. You coughed, your throat hoarse and your body exhausted.

Your bottom was numb, you could not feel a thing and your body was on fire. Ushijima called out to you, caressing your cheek. “Are you okay?” Ushijima felt bad. In all honesty, he did not want to hurt you but hearing the things Sakusa had said to him about you and what you did when he was not around made him feel like a small man, a man with no pride. It bothered him so he listens to Sakusa. He seemed to know what he was doing but now he sat filled with regrets.

Sakusa slapped Ushijima’s hand away from your face, “She’s fine. We aren’t done yet.”

Sakusa pulled you closer to him and ripped your shirt off your body, squeezing your tits and rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers. Ushijima dragged you back to him, at this point both the men were using you like a rag doll, literally. “I’m fucking her pussy.” he declared. You whined as he made you sit down on the bed but quickly switched positions so that you were straddling his thigh. You could see the dent in his jeans propped up, begging to be released. “What? Am I supposed to take her ass? That’s gross.” “You can use her mouth too,”

That was even grosser, Sakusa wanted to fuck your pussy. No doubt he’d love to ruin your ass and your mouth but today he wanted your pussy. He opened his mouth to speak but was immediately speechless when he saw Ushijima making out with you. He kisses you so passionately, your lips molding together, his tongue going down your throat. For a moment it felt like he wasn’t going to rape you here and now. Hell, maybe you are even enjoying this.

He scoffs, unbuckling his belt he walks behind you, settling for your ass. He feels like a third wheel, watching Ushijima kiss you so lovingly; licking your neck and biting down your tits making you moan.

He lifts you, spreading your cheeks, presenting your gaping hole to Sakusa. “You can go first,” he offers. Your start squirming around once again trying to free yourself from him. “Please, Wakatoshi no it will hurt. Please don’t-” “Shut up, bitch” Sakusa comes behind you, his hands closing around your petit neck. He squeezes around the soft flesh, effectively shutting you up. Out of desperation, you look up at Ushijima with watery eyes only to see him glaring at Sakusa. He slaps away Sakusa’s hand away from your neck, “Careful, she’s not yours’ bro.” his voice is filled with sarcasm. Sakusa scoffs moving back, “is she yours though? Sucking up to every guy ever who gives her an ounce of attention? Hate break it to you but your girl’s a whore, dude.” Sakusa returns. Sitting in the room with a hard-on, they glare at each other. Co-operating with Ushijima was harder than Sakusa thought and Ushijima much more possessive than he seemed.

The longer he stared with Sakusa with murderous intentions, the more fragile his grip on you became. Once you spotted it was weak enough, you broke out of it made for a run.

‘Fuck!” Ushijima screamed and chased after you with Sakusa following. You don’t get far, they catch you in the corridor. Ushijima pushes you against the wall, his hand coming up to grab your jaw making you look at him. ‘One fucking thing [y/n]. I told you it’ll be over fucking soon, didn’t I?” he slaps your face once. “It’s all your fault anyway. If it weren’t for you whoring out there like a fucking slut you wouldn’t be in this situation.” he slaps you twice, ouch. You plead guilty, promising him you’d never do it again but after repeated denials, you change your request. You choke back sobs as you try to calm your uneven breathing, “You can do anything you want to me but...just not him, please.” you turn to Sakusa shaking like a leaf. You didn’t want that man to be near you, nevertheless, touch you.

Ushijima thinks for a moment, turning to Sakusa. He thinks long and hard before answering, “It will be okay.” he says before pushing you against Sakusa. He didn’t want to give you up but you know what they say...Bros before Hos. Sakusa catches you roughly and pins you against his chest. He wraps his arm around your waist, letting the other pulls his pants down and pull his throbbing cock out of his briefs. It stands tall, not as thick as Ushijima but he’s big. With the red tip leaking with pre, he gives it a pump.

“Hold her legs,” he commands. Ushijima walks up to the two of you with his huge cock out and leaking, he wastes no time in grabbing one of your legs and pushing it up.

He lines his tip with your dry hole, “that’s enough foreplay, now,” he slowly truths inside, breaching past your cute cunt, splitting you into two. A burning pain flashes through you, slowly getting replaced by pleasure. Your tight cunt sucks up around his cock, salivating as he hits deeper and deeper. Sakusa gets tired of watching as he pushes his tips past your rim making you scream out. The intrusion is weird and unfamiliar, the deeper he goes the more evident it becomes. Sakusa decides to show you some mercy when he flicks down your little clit, pulsing with need. All of a sudden you start withering with pleasure, completely forgetting about the compromising position you are in.

“Fuck.” Ushijima mutters, your moans a melody to his ears. “Fuckin whore likes this,” Sakusa wanted you to shut up, your moans were turning him off. Sakusa felt he was close. Your walls hugging him snuggly, trying to milk him for all he’s worth but he doesn’t want to give up yet. There's an unspoken competition between the two men; whoever can last longer and his pride won’t let him loose. He holds himself together for a little longer, hoping for Ushijima to come before him.

“Don’t cum inside,” the green-haired man commands. He is close, his thrusts hit sloppy and uneven. He bits down on your neck as he shoots his thick, white load into your womb cumming with a loud grunt. Sakusa follows soon after, his length twitching he pulls it out of you. He jerks his cock over and cums all over your back.

He lets go of you, and you fall onto Ushijima, your boyfriend's strong arms wrapping around you to steady you up. “You should leave,” he suggests. He pulls his dick back into his pants and walks to the door, throwing a glance behind his shoulder; he sees Ushi stripping out his shirt and dressing you with him. He scoffs and turns around, feeling disgusted he can’t wait to go back to his own home and take a fucking shower. Even though he finally gets what he had wanted, he can’t help but feel unsatisfied. It would have been much better if it was just him and you minus the possessive freak, maybe….he can come again when Ushijima is not around….What’s the worst which could possibly happen?

1K notes · View notes

janumun · 3 years ago

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The Pirate's Symbol(s): NSFW Alphabet [IkeSen Motonari]

Game: Ikemen Sengoku Pairing: Motonari/Female Reader

Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 2.5k

Warnings: stockings fetish, spoilers for Motonari’s ‘condition’, sexual intercourse, mentions of exhibitionism/semi-public sex, (non-sexual) bondage, innuendoes and dirty-talk, masturbation

Author’s Notes: Motonari’s entire self is a joy, his route gave me some much needed, invigorating enemies-to-lovers, and I officially love him! [Totally swiped my heart right up without warning!]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Motonari is quick — you’d almost say adept — at sweeping off a cloth, or container, placed by your bedside. Although, your touch and whatever fire you generate in between the two of you does not bother him, he does prefer you both cleaner of the mess and fluids when holding you close in his arms, afterwards.

Wiping up the remnants of your passionate and, often vigorous, activities off of quivering thighs he presses apart, in gentle strokes of damp fibers. Movements of the cloth soft enough it doesn’t shock you into over-sensitivity but not soft enough you relax entirely beneath him, because that scarlet gaze is always fixated on you — your body language. And if you give away even an inch, he’s ready and up for round two (or four). [Bless yer stamina, matey!]

If not, he’s still up and happy to listen to his favorite flower-brained woman’s amusing, outrageous tales she narrates in animated conversation. While he whisks up a quick, invigorating meal for her at the kitchen counter, just as she rests her happy self at the table. Garnet gaze seemingly fixated upon the task at hand — spices being tossed, ladle being stirred, eggs whipped to perfection — but his answers are prompt and alert, although still carrying that insouciant edge. Indicating his attention; equal division in between feeding you and hearing you speak.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Motonari is fond of his mouth, and before you, he didn’t think of it as much of an achievement as he believes it now, when your jittery gaze seeks immediate relief (and lust) as soon as it lands upon that obvious smirk.

A single kiss and your thoughts are all but handed over to him on an elaborate platter. Your cheeks color dark and wide; restless eyes tracing across his mouth. Your own parting; pink tongue darting quick in a swipe across plush lips: all of you demanding more of him.

Yes, he is surprisingly (or not), in touch with a far more emotional side: Motonari adores your eyes, although you’re never hearing it from him. Your entire body speaks of honesty but the way he reads your thoughts so easy, in your gaze, there’s quite nothing as exhilarating or confounding as the love he captures in them. That quick, tight knot of your brow, your anger flaring in your eyes or the equally prompt melting, when he appeases you in gentle teases. He’s been so long used to not trusting that a person he sees this clearly through, and sees how she trusts; it’s not an entirely terrible thing to feel.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As mentioned above, the man doesn’t particularly care to leave you a mess post-coitus unless you ask it of him; there is little he’s able to refuse you. So when it does come (…heh) to cumming outside of your pussy, your mouth is a pretty (very pretty too) good substitute for him to ejaculate, without having to think of leaving external stains on you. Your throat clamping, then swallowing, around his orgasm, so he feels that slick slide of saliva and semen around him, as you moan.

Yer pretty darn hot, m’lady.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There are times he descends — quick and furious — into an almost juvenile state of petty jealousy [he realizes the immaturity of it, he just cannot! help! it!] and ends up turning that lust on you, instead.

He’d never actually do it but visualizing — in almost exact, murderous details — how he’d like to drag you into an empty room whenever Kicho gets all up in your face, and fuck you so hard your throat tears through screams lough enough Kicho hears each and every single sound and moan.

Or, clasp your chin in his fingers, whenever Hideyoshi’s a little too close for comfort at an Oda banquet, and kiss you senseless and noisy [pirates crave a flashy exhibition!].

He despises making a show of you to anybody, so that idea only stays in thoughts but also it’s mind-boggling, since it does get him hard on the spot.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you, it was only ever through terrible necessity (extremely dire straits) that he — if ever and very sparing — sought casual sex. The occasions hadn’t been plenty and he’d be frighteningly specific about how he wanted to take a woman to bed.

Bathed, no make-up, no perfume, no scented products or jewelry — anything extra that he could accidentally touch and trigger a reaction. A clean, unscented futon he’d provide in a bare room. Any bonds or cloths he could get his hands on (buying his own and discarding immediately after), to tie their limbs, keep their movements limited; Motonari used.

Of course, there’d be the rare prostitute who’d drop immediately after visiting a client, or one who’d perceive his conditions extreme and over-the-top and think they could ‘change his mind’. The moment they’d try and cross the line, he’d fling them off, almost violently, heart racing, sweat marking each inch of exposed skin. Nauseous and barely tapped, before he’d stride out of the room.

He’s also witnessed open and perverse brothels — and corrupt seething dens — where men and women fuck, for all to see, in his line of work, so he’s no stranger to how sex works for others either.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He’s learning to let go and touch (just you) without the added barrier of gloves and since you so seem fond of his hands on you, Motonari likes any positions that allow his hands to move your body upon his; he isn’t picky.

Palms curved upon your hips so that your ass slaps against his pelvis each time he pulls back, the movements of his cock into and out of your pussy — a place you are both connected and he likes that. Or even when he can spread your thighs wide, press them apart before hooking his hands over your abdomen and just focusing on moving.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s a pirate he’s a vortex of a man and slips all over the spectrum. Motonari’s goading is far softened with minimum barbs, when he’s in(side you) in bed with you. More velvet — than leathery — questions, soft smirk-y and probing,: “Ya like that, flower girl?” —as his mouth hovers just close to your ear, nose barely touching and tucking sweat soaked strands away from your temple. Definitely lands firm and midway between too serious and entirely silly. But he’s all focus on you, make no mistake.

He’s still got a filthy mouth on him, but dirty romantic liners are more his style, in bed (he wants you warmed as well as turned on!), in contrast to the complete indecent filth he threatens you with (a good time!) when the two of you are out and about.

“Pipe down, m’lady. The way yer moaning, they’re gonna think I’m fucking ya, right on deck.” Those eyes are burnished rubies; smile wide, crooked and unashamed, as he ducks close. “But maybe ya feel like putting on a show.”

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s clean down below (and silver-haired, yes) — he doesn’t go the ‘complete waxed up, no-hair in sight’ route, but rather prefers keeping his hair short-trimmed and well-groomed.

He’s also kept his pubic hair short and neat, for the rare occasions he does have sex, and an unkempt mass down there would leave him more likely and exposed to his partner’s fluids staying on him. He despises that.

Motonari doesn’t mind blood, dirt and grime on the field, nor the brine of the harsh sea sticking to his skin, but as soon as he’s done with — or in between — jobs, he takes the time to wash and clean himself up thoroughly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

[Also see G=Goofy] Motonari isn’t short with words of love. He isn’t reciting romantic poems but he is quick to let you know, in exact words, how much he loves you — and is loving being inside you — in the moment. Barriers definitely lower themselves — not all down, not completely back up — with this man, in bed.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

(As also mentioned in E=Experience) the man, previously, has sought intimacy only and only out of desperate necessity and when his hand is just not enough for him to relieve himself of his lust. Motonari, before you, jacked off, multiple times within a week, sometimes thrice (or more) in a single day. His desires, usually amped, following a particularly unsatisfying battle or raid.

After you, he still does take time off for some self-lovin’ (remember: stamina for daaays, and you’re mostly unable to match him so he makes do), just not as much as he used to, in the past.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

You and Motonari share a love for (clothing) imports from the seas beyond. He’s always up for sharing and discussing trade secrets, doling out clothing advice and helping you work out modern clothing from whatever fabrics are available to you.

Stockings might be one of his favorite products.

The fabric feeling absolutely exquisite against his palms when he rounds you close into his grasp, stood in between his spread thighs as he observes and hums beneath you, seated. A harmless joke you make, about a stocking fetish and the ensuing explanation soon after, has him grinning and dragging you down to test the material against his teeth.

“Yer sayin’ I got a thing for yer fancy underclothes? Heh, don’t think so. Seeing you in it just makes me wanna tear it all off, meu docinho de côco.”

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere you’re afforded privacy; although a little flirting with danger is good and being pinned in between the door and his body. Watching you try and smother your moans into your sleeves, skews that grin wider, that cock harder.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. He’s got a dirty mind, it’ll do the rest of the work when its got its catalyst: you.

Nothing gets you results faster than being honest with Motonari, or expressing your affections (even chaste) for him.

Tell him he looked especially handsome, earlier on a job out: with his hair slicked back and how hard it was for you to have held back from kissing him, on the spot. That you love him—

He’s on you so fast.

“That brain’s just gotta keep sprouting its flowers, huh.” He murmurs, tugging at your chin to swipe his tongue into you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Despite his treatment of you very early on in his route (the collar, the slavery deal), Motonari’s not into putting a collar on a person, romantic or otherwise. Collaring and hearing you call him your Master wouldn’t do much for him, playful or not.

He’s had to live a great chunk of his life as the Beggar Prince; experienced the devastating dregs of human society, including and not limited to being treated as one inferior, and having to watch people around at the very mercy of corrupt lords.

In retrospect, it isn’t something he might take pleasure in, in the bedroom.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving or receiving, both take some getting used to within the bedroom. He finds the taste of you pleasant, when he withdraws wet digits from inside you and takes a careful swipe of the clear fluid across his skin. And has expressed interest in, and gone down on you several times.

Receiving gets a bit more gentle coax-y and requires reassurances, with Motonari. He doesn’t particularly like seeing his release all over you. Having to work through those barriers of his mind, but once he allows you, he does enjoy the slow kisses, and the soft slide of your mouth against him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His default setting is rough and furious. The two of you are usually frustrated passion by the time you actually get to his bedroom (he likes to prod and poke much too often in public, get you riled) so there’s only one way to go and it’s up. He’s spreading your thighs apart with none too gentle hands as he pushes through and into you, your own hold on him, white knuckled and almost delirious with the way his hips rock into you and his cockhead scraps across your front wall with his onslaught.

At times, however, especially after a high-risk mission; when he’s been close enough to stare Death in the face and survive, he likes to take his time being inside you, just being able to feel you. Once, twice, several times, he’s keeping you beneath, or mounted on top of him, coaxing your hips and your moans.

“Don’t look at me like that, flower girl. I’m alive, ain’t I? Com’ere. I’ll take those tears of yers.”

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Definitely! Any time he can have you, or get you close enough in private, you’re going to be fucking each other. He loves those little breathy, moan-laughters you make in half-panic/all arousal, each time he drives up to grind your hips close together, stuffed into a hallway closet.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Semi-public quickies are a thing and the closest to risky as he gets. As mentioned previously, he’s demanding enough over you, he doesn’t like men Kicho touching you, let alone hearing you when you sound like that.

Other kinks, most kinks, he’s down to try with his favorite dirty, flower-brained woman. He does however, draw the line at any kinks that might involve him using harsh, ugly words to degrade you or your body and/or being soiled.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

All I gotta say is: Pirate’s got stamina enough to power his ships through horn alone, over an entire week!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys translate to external objects. Which are always subject to germs, and need to be (excessively) cleaned by his standards, to keep them useful and usable. That’s far much more work than he’s usually willing to commit himself to.

And he has no need of them. Not when you respond plenty to his touch alone.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A lot! Motonari’s brand of filthy talk is polished to leave you damp in between the legs. He’s pulling the nastiest most wonderful innuendoes out of the most mundane of tasks.

“Ya like that old weapon?” He might ask of you, as you admire the carvings upon the handle of one of his clan’s katana. “Didn’t know ya liked the feel of handlin’ a sword between yer hands that much, m’lady.”

Leaving your mind reeling and cheeks flushing before withdrawing with a, “What’re ya cooking in that flower brain of yers? Heh... you’ve got a dirty mind.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heavy, sensual pants against your ears. His groans and grunts enough to fan the fires of your own arousal, to have you ready to come, from just the sounds that can leave his throat. Motonari doesn’t care to be heard outside your boundaries, but he also doesn’t care to withhold his own sounds of pleasure from you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He almost swears (but will never tell you, in very direct words): the space in between your bare breasts smells almost sweet like flowers. He likes finding his way up and nosing in between your breasts — just skin-to-skin contact at a place he finds you’re at your most fragrant. Suckling and tugging at a nipple draws those moans and your scent more intense, so he nips and teeths around the place often.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

That beautiful cock — with the evidence of just enough silver at the base — is long enough it fits and curves snug into you, without entering into any discomforting places, deep. But he is thick enough, it takes you time (and many times) to not just hold your breath and tighten up around him on reflex, upon entry.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

(Read: S)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You’re almost always the one falling asleep first. Pirates are used to night raids and this one’s no different. He does prefer watching you sleep, late into the night, once you fall exhausted into slumber.

End Notes: Thank you for reading!

♧° Link to Master List °♡

#ikesen motonari #ikemen sengoku motonari #ikesen mouri motonari #ikesen motonari smut #ikesen smut #ikemen sengoku smut #ikesen fanfic #ikemen sengoku fanfiction #ikesen motonari x reader #ns//fw text #a pickle writes

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