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elixirfromthestars · 3 months ago

Text

Lines Crossed

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)

Summary: You and Bucky have danced around the lines you've placed ever since that weekend camping trip. Months later, when Tony Stark hosts an extravagant party, he finally makes a move to cross them.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warning(s): 18+ mdni / drinking / jealousy / forced proximity / smut / female reader / drunk jerk (stranger) / tension / will they won't they oh they will 🫣❤️‍🔥 / sex w/protection / pet names / sprinkles of possessive + protective Bucky so be prepared / there's a build-up so enjoy ❣️

Prompt: oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

a/n: Please be kind this is my first time writing something like this. 🥺🩶 I decided to challenge myself and join @mercurial-chuckles‘ smutty September fest. A tad late on the deadline because Hurricane Helene decided to take the power out. 😭 This is a standalone fic, but you can most definitely read it (and is intended to be) as a continuation of the events of A Night of Frights & Delights. Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! ❤️❤️

part one backstory // divider // ambiance 🤍

You step into the foyer of the Stark Manor, a grand staircase greets you, its golden railing glowing underneath an ornate chandelier. Various guests mingle around the manor, the buzz of conversation accompanying the music that pulses throughout. Everything about the sight in front of you screams old wealth and elegance.

Your eyes scan the luxurious home with an expression of awe. Despite being invited before, you had never come to one of Tony’s parties. Choosing the comfort of your bed and your favorite show instead. However, this time knowing a certain captain of the baseball team would be here—and your history with him—well you just had to come.

As you take it all in, your gaze locks on a pair of beautiful blues. The very same ones you were thinking of all day. And by the way he was looking at you, you knew he was awaiting your arrival just as much as you had been waiting to see him.

There was no denying he most certainly had been.

Bucky had arrived about half an hour earlier with some of his teammates. His impatience grew by the second at your absence. He was dying to see what you wore for the party. You denied him any sneak peeks, which only fueled his excitement. He tried distracting himself by greeting anyone he could and making conversation, but he continuously gravitated to the foyer, waiting for the moment you stepped in through those doors.

When you finally did, Bucky knew with the utmost certainty that the wait was worth it. When his eyes met yours you knocked the air straight out of his lungs with the black dress you were wearing. The satin dawning your body accentuated your silhouette perfectly—and the high slit at your right leg showed off the right amount of skin. The way you did your hair and your makeup complimented you perfectly, and Bucky was losing his goddamn mind because of it.

Sincerely, he was close to whisking you away and keeping you all to himself.

You looked nothing short of beyond stunning. Bucky had been holding back for months, staying within the lines you drew that night in the tent, and honestly, he deserved a medal for that. It’s the hardest thing he's ever done. What he felt for you couldn’t measure up to anything else in his life. Never had he felt so over the moon in his feelings for anyone. Yet, you brought on those sentiments by just being you. He was sure if he wasn’t in love with you yet, he was damn near close to it.

And right now, seeing you in that dress, his mind is going to places it shouldn’t. Places that only belonged to him and his bed on those nights you left him wanting more. Thoughts and scenarios where the night ends with him tearing that dress right off you and showing you just how serious he is about wanting you.

He’s not so sure he can be on his best behavior tonight.

Bucky discards the drink he had been holding and saunters over to you. Your heart races in your chest when you see the way his blues darken when he rakes his eyes over your form—shamelessly drinking you up. You take in his figure as well, the all-black suit giving him an aura of class and sophistication that was stirring something dangerous within you.

Bucky cleaned up good, real good.

He stops a mere foot away from you, his eyes twinkling with intentions both of you long for. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until his voice broke you out of your trance.

“There’s no way I’m letting you leave my side tonight, not in that dress,” Bucky’s voice is deeper than usual, contrasting the charming grin on his face. You roll your eyes playfully, “I don’t need a babysitter, Bucky,” you reply amused at the thought. Having Bucky by your side all night would definitely lead to you two enjoying each other’s company in other ways.

Not that you would object if it did.

Bucky’s hand reaches out to touch you, your heart skipping a beat as he adjusts the strap of your dress on your shoulder. His touch lingers for a second more as a light chuckle escapes him. “Maybe not you sweetheart, but I might. Someone’s going to have to keep me in check tonight. I already have a hard enough time keeping my hands off of you and now you walk in looking like a masterpiece and I'm supposed to keep my hands to myself?” He bites his bottom lip for a moment, almost as if to stop himself from saying too much.

“Something tells me you’re going to lay it on thick tonight, aren't you?” You tease him, all the while your body thrums with the way he compliments you. Bucky always knows exactly what to say to make you feel like the only girl in the room. An effortless gift he had only when it came to you.

“Can you blame me, baby? You walk in and suddenly it's like no one else exists,” his tone is softer, yet serious when he says this. Your heart skipped a beat when he called you baby. The weight of his attention felt in every fiber of your being. Bucky only ever called you baby when he wanted to really affect you. Reminding you of the pull he had over you.

The spell you two were under was suddenly broken by Darcy, who rushed over to where you were standing and linked your arm with hers. “Sorry! I’m going to steal her away for a bit there Bucky!” She says unapologetically as she tears you away from the man who looks like he could have devoured you if your friend hadn't interrupted. Your protests fall on deaf ears so you're left waving a small—but not definite—farewell to Bucky.

It seemed Bucky’s friends had been waiting for the right moment to steal him away too. As soon as you were in another room Sam and Steve went up to Bucky and dragged him to whatever antics the baseball team was up to. His disappointment matches yours, but if there was one thing he had proven all these months was that he had a lot of patience. He knew you two would end up crossing each other’s paths more than once tonight. It was only a matter of time.

“You forgot you promised to stick by my side tonight. My ex is here, I need the support,” Darcy reminds you with a slight pout. She looks like a ball of fire with the way she pulls you through the crowd in her crimson dress. Her eyes dart to every guest looking to avoid her ex at all costs.

“I didn’t forget. I was just saying hi to a friend,” you explain emitting a snort from Darcy, “A friend? If he’s just a friend than I’m the Queen of England.” You roll your eyes, a small huff of a laugh leaving your lips. Darcy wasn’t wrong. You and Bucky weren’t just friends, but you also weren’t anything more—and that was by your account.

You and Bucky have fallen into a grey area of what you are to each other. At first, after the camping trip, you tried avoiding him. Not because what happened upset you—but because you couldn’t trust yourself around him after that. Making out with him in that tent made you realize that what you thought had been an annoyance towards Bucky was actually the beginning of a deep-rooted crush. One that bubbled to the surface after that night.

Avoiding him altogether was an impossible task when he lived in the other apartment in the duplex you rented. Especially after he insisted on giving you rides back and forth from campus with the excuse that now that you two were friends it's only natural for him to be more friendly. By his definition, it also included things like buying you food on days he knows you’ve been too busy to get something for yourself, walking you to your classes whenever he has the chance, and going with you to art exhibitions to dabble in your passion with you.

Oh, and it also included kissing you mercilessly during tutoring sessions.

Around the time that fall semester began, Bucky asked you if you could tutor him on a few subjects. He hadn’t done the greatest academically last semester and he wanted to keep his grades up before baseball season started. You were hesitant at first, but ultimately gave in when you realized how sincere he was about needing the help.

Tutoring Bucky meant spending lots of time with him after classes. The sessions were innocent at first, but after the first time kissing on your bed, Bucky made it a tradition to have his lips on yours, and his hands wandering your body at every session. He even stopped hosting parties at his place, preferring being in your room and getting drunk on the taste of you.

Bucky was too infatuated by you to ever want to do anything else. Studying was an afterthought whenever you were around, and yet he was doing better than he ever had before in all his classes. Being someone you could be proud of was honestly the best motivation he could ask for.

Deep down you knew you were falling for him. There was a bit of apprehension on your part as you hadn’t known Bucky to ever have a girlfriend. From what you can remember, ever since you’ve known him, he was the kind of guy who preferred flirting and casual encounters. And there was no guarantee you would be the one to break that. So to keep yourself safe you drew those lines—built those walls up high to guard your heart. Bucky respected those lines and never crossed them. No matter how badly he wanted to.

Some days, like today, made you want to say screw the lines and just give in to what you desired most. However, when that desire included lowering those walls you put in place, you weren’t brave enough to risk it—so you didn’t. Instead, you and Bucky danced around those lines until it drove you both mad.

Your thoughts follow you for the next hour as you stay by Darcy’s side. Bucky has this natural way of consuming your mind lately—and your sketchbook. You wish you had it with you right now because when your feelings decide to overflow you channel that intensity onto the paper. For months, every page had been filled with graphite drawings of Bucky. His smile, his eyes, his determined expression when studying, his confident stance during baseball games, and everything else that sparked the creative fire in you. You found a lot of solace in drawing him.

Bucky was undoubtedly your favorite muse.

You're so lost in your thoughts you don’t register you’re in the kitchen of the manor until the guests around you cheer. It seems Darcy and Thor have fallen into a friendly competition of sorts to see who could down more shots than the other in one minute. A group of spectators and friends have gathered in the kitchen to watch the showdown go down. Your eyes dart to Jane who only gives you a half-amused, half-exasperated look. She is not looking forward to having to drive those two home later.

Contrary to your friends, you weren’t drinking much tonight. Bucky’s lingering presence at the party was all your senses needed to feel like you were in a daze. For appearances, however, you decide to grab one of the red solo cups to blend in with the rest of those around you.

“Hey, Y/n! Enjoying the party?” A male’s voice comes from your right and when you turn to see who it is a friendly smile appears on your face. It was Ian Boothby, a fellow art major at your university. You’ve had him in enough of your classes to consider him a friend.

“Hey, Ian. Yeah, I’m having a good time. Are you?” Your question is a catalyst for a much longer chat with Ian. The two of you fall into light conversation about the semester, art, and other relevant topics. It's a nice breath of fresh air compared to the thoughts that had been consuming you tonight. Especially when he tells you the story of one of his painting mishaps causing you to laugh along with him.

Soon after, a hand snakes its way around your waist, and when you smell that familiar woody muskiness you know exactly who it is.

“Having fun without me, sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice has a slight edge to it as he speaks, his lips forming a smirk. You face him and the look in his eyes stills you.

Bucky does not look pleased.

“Bucky, hey man. How’s baseball prep?” Ian beats you to it by addressing Bucky first. Bucky's eyes flick between you and Ian before he presses you into his side by the hold on your waist. This does not go unnoticed by Ian.

“Boothby, it's going good. How’s the cross-country season treating you?” Bucky asks, his tone giving away how uninterested he is in continuing this conversation. If Ian picks up on the animosity he doesn’t show it as he goes on and on about the sport. Bucky’s impatience grows the more he speaks and his hold on you gets a little more firm. When Bucky’s expression finally gives way to how he genuinely feels Ian finds a way to excuse himself and exit the conversation.

A beat passes before you finally speak, “Ian’s my friend. You didn’t have to scare him off like that,” you say with slight annoyance. Bucky clicks his tongue as he eyes you closely, “I didn’t, but I felt like it,” he shrugs cooly. “Didn't like the way he was looking at you.” He adds, his thumb rubbing small circles on your waist.

“Oh? And how was he looking at me?”

“Like in the way only I should be.”

The possessiveness in his voice catches you off guard. The air electrifying around you both at his words. You weren’t going to drink, but you suddenly felt the need to. You take a sip of the substance in your cup, the bitter liquid doing little to ground you. Bucky can tell how he’s affecting you and joins you with his drink. His eyes never leave yours as he gulps some of it down.

You have to stop yourself from inhaling the entire thing in one go.

“Ian’s harmless. He’s just comfortable with me because he’s an art major too. I’ve had a lot of classes with him,” you do your best to continue the conversation and ignore the way your body heats up when Bucky gives your hip a possessive squeeze. Massaging the area afterward in gentle strokes.

“You do a lot of bonding over paint?” Bucky’s response is slightly mocking, licking his lips to catch a drop of alcohol that wanted to escape. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he relishes the way you're looking at him now. Your gaze trained on his lips. When you realize he’s noticed, the heat from your body goes straight to your face.

You wouldn’t let him have the upper hand though. Never.

“Well, when you have to sketch someone’s naked body you obviously become friendly,” your reply causes Bucky to choke on his drink, the hand at your hip falling as he uses it to grab a few napkins from the granite counter behind him to wipe at the mess he made. You hide a wicked grin behind the rim of your cup.

He narrows his eyes at you, “Excuse me? What does that mean?” He knows what you mean, but he’s giving you a chance to tell him you're joking. He’s not hiding the jealousy that crawls up his spine at your revelation.

“It means Ian’s a nude model for some of my classes. He may not look like it but underneath those layers, he’s got the most gorgeous—” Bucky cuts you off with a fierce kiss, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you into him. There’s been plenty of times you’ve shut him up with your mouth and it was his turn to return the favor. Because hearing you talk about the naked body of another man gets under his skin in ways he wasn’t used to. He wasn’t going to just stand there and hear another word of it.

The kiss catches you by surprise, but soon your drink is discarded in favor of pulling him closer by his blazer. Not caring who sees or what anyone thinks, since it’s the first time you’ve ever kissed in front of others. Your craving for him was far too loud to ignore anymore. Your lips stay locked until your lungs burn begging for air.

Bucky pulls away with a smug smile, his voice an octave lower as he moves to whisper in your ear, “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. I know you love getting a rise out of me, but just so we’re clear—next time you want to mess with me like that—I’ll make sure you can’t even stand after I’m through with you,” his declaration causes a shiver to make its way up your spine.

You swallow hard, your mouth opening to say something, but no sound comes out. Bucky lets out a rough chuckle, ghosting his lips against your cheek before pulling away to stare at how speechless he’s left you. He’s blatantly savoring every second of it.

You want to say something—anything. Something witty or playful, but the thought of him making good on his promise—the image it conjures in your mind—keeps you silent.

“Buck! You’re needed at beer pong! Tony’s team is winning and the bet is up to five hundred,” Steve rushes into the kitchen, breaking through the bubble you two were in. His eyes dart between you and Bucky with a knowing look. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at the sight of you two.

You start to register there’s still an extravagant party happening around you.

Bucky sighs with slight irritation as he once again gets his moment with you interrupted. He reluctantly tears his attention away from you to call back to Steve, “I’ll be right there!” Steve nods in approval before going back the way he came.

Now’s your chance to say something, but Bucky pulls away from your body before you can. A coldness replacing where his touch used to be. “Hold that thought, baby. Looks like my team needs their star player,” he winks at you before placing a tender kiss on your forehead, “you keep thinking about what I said while I’m gone,” he says in a gruff whisper, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip in a barely there touch.

He knows he needs to leave before he takes this somewhere you can’t go back from.

Bucky doesn’t give you a chance to say anything as he makes a smooth exit. Heading out of the kitchen in the direction of the beer pong game. Your body prickling with an ever growing sexual frustration. You were embarrassingly close to snatching Bucky away and giving in to all your desires in one of the many rooms of the manor.

“You two need to get a room,” Jane seems to read your mind as she teases you. Appearing from behind you once Bucky was no longer in sight. You can’t deny her words, letting out a small huff, “I don’t know what good that would do. I’ve been clear about not wanting to take things further.” You explain to her, not sure if you could go back on your words for the sake of giving in to what you want now. Jane has had this conversation with you a few times before, and it appears she's hit her limit today.

“That man is absolutely head over heels for you. How can you not see that?” Jane shakes her head at you, wondering how she can make you realize what you already know yet deny. There's a vulnerability that overcomes you when you reply, “It’s not that I don’t see it. I just—I’ve never seen him be serious about anyone. The only thing he’s ever serious about is baseball.” Jane looks like she’s about to do something drastic at your denial.

“Y/n, Bucky is serious about you. He’s literally all about you—he’s chosen you over baseball many times. I’m not around him like you are and even I can see it clear as day. Do you know Thor and like half of the baseball team thinks you two are secretly dating? Stop denying what you know deep down is true and just give in—be happy,” Jane tells it like it is, her tone leaving no room for argument or denial.

For so long Bucky has shown you another side of him—one not many get to see. He’s given you priority and importance when he didn’t have to. Care and consideration when you needed it most. A shoulder to lean on and a steady support to rely on. Time and time again Bucky has demonstrated how much you mean to him.

Perhaps, you both have been something more to each other for a long time and Bucky’s kept his wishes at bay to make sure things developed at your pace.

When it finally hits you, you almost feel exposed by how skillfully Jane can read you. At how easily she can see the situation for what it is and not for what your worries twisted it to be. If Bucky had made it clear to you how he felt, what was stopping you from taking things further than they had been before?

At this point, nothing, nothing was stopping you but yourself.

This realization follows you to the dance floor. A very drunk Darcy had pulled you to it along with Jane, babbling tipsily after losing the drinking competition to Thor. You had never seen a living room with such high ceilings before or enough room to host a makeshift dance floor and a DJ booth. The living space had been stripped of its furniture and supplied with top-notch equipment to make it resemble the inside of a club.

At least in the near darkness, it resembled one.

You’re in a huddle of your closest friends, all of them letting the music guide their movements to their heart’s content. You sway absentmindedly, so you're not merely standing there awkwardly. The kaleidoscope of party lights strobe and kiss your skin with an array of colors as the music thumps around your body.

A loud cheer catches your attention, the source of the sound coming from a table on the far left end of the room. Tony and his friends were boisterous as they made a shot against their opponent's team in beer pong—Bucky’s team. You had a clear view of it all from where you stood.

Bucky’s team seems to be taking turns on who drinks every time Tony’s team makes a shot. They look amongst themselves until Bucky steps up and chugs the liquid in the red solo cup. It's like he can feel the shift in the air because as soon as the cup is away from his lips his eyes scan the space and find you, and suddenly it's like you two are the only two people in the room.

You want him—all of him. You enjoy the teases, the banter, the back and forth, but you know you’d enjoy calling him yours more.

The music picks up in tempo as your boldness grows. Keeping your eyes trained on him, your hips begin to sway provocatively, tempting him to say screw the game and make his way towards you instead. Bucky’s not even paying attention to the game anymore his eyes soaking up your every move as it fans the flames of desire between you. The atmosphere around you buzzes as the ground shakes due to the sea of dancing bodies, and yet nothing thrums within you more than your need for Bucky.

The little show you’re putting on for him continues as you roll and wave your body in ways that seduce him. Ghosting your hand along the curves and dips of your figure showing him exactly where you’d like his hands to be. Bucky’s mind is reeling with everything he wants to do to you and none of it involves the dance floor and all of it involves you and him in some private corner of the manor where he can show you exactly what his hands are capable of.

You are making it impossibly hard for him to concentrate on anything else.

Slowly and with shady intentions a group of drunk guys circle the huddle of you and your friends like vultures. Finding their way to snake themselves into any corner or crevice they can fit into. Their bodies bumping and grazing against yours. There’s one guy in particular that has his sights set on you. Getting closer to you on the dancefloor and creeping his hands along your waist. You swat his hands away, but he doesn’t disperse immediately. The alcohol on his breath fanning your face causing you to gag. The more you dismiss him the more adamant he was about keeping you close to him.

Almost instantly, a protective grip pulls you away from the drunk guy. A familiar warmth encases you as Bucky pulls you into his chest, your back to him. Your hands find their way to hold his arms to ease the displeasure the drunk had caused.

Bucky glares at the drunk guy, his gaze cold and unapologetic, “Alright, that's enough.” The drunk guy sneers, his words slurred, “What the—what’s your problem bro? We’re just—” Bucky doesn’t let him finish, “Shut up. You’re not doing anything. You’ve got two seconds to back off or we’re going to have a problem,” Bucky’s reply is sharp and menacing. He directs it to all the men that had swarmed you and your friends.

Shifting you so you stand at his side, Bucky steps forward to let the guys know he’s not messing around. Your hold goes to his right arm where you’re watching the exchange unfold anxiously. You hope things don’t escalate, not wanting Bucky to get into a scuffle. You know he can handle himself, but the idea of him getting hurt in any way caused your heart to ache.

The guys size Bucky up and it seems some of them think they can take him on. Until the strobing lights illuminate Bucky’s darkened gaze enough that in their drunk haze, they finally recognize him as captain of the baseball team. That means that fighting Bucky meant taking on the entirety of the team. And with the way Sam and Steve were looking over to see if they needed to step in, and Thor was already storming over—they knew they didn’t stand a chance.

It was comical the way the drunk men scramble to get away as fast as they could. Muttering incoherences and apologies under their breath. They don’t get far as Tony’s hired security for the night promptly kicks them out.

Thor comes up to check on everyone, giving special attention to Jane who keeps assuring him she’s fine. You turn to Bucky, who’s already inspecting you to make sure you are alright, “Bucky I—” You almost tell him not to worry, that you had things under control, but in reality, you’re glad Bucky stepped in.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, Bucky’s tense demeanor softens at your words. He moves to get a better hold on you, his grip at your waist protective teetering on possessive.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, sweetheart. I got you—always,” Bucky’s genuine response makes your heart flutter and your pulse quicken. Your senses are awakened by his proximity, completely enamored with the way he looks at you.

“Plus, if I’m going to fall for the most beautiful girl in the world, I have to know how to fight right?” Bucky says this like it's the most obvious thing, smirking at the way you don’t hide the smitten grin he elicits from you. There’s a sparkle in your eyes as you stare at him, Bucky’s heart racing at the sight of it.

“You and your compliments,” you give a breathless laugh, letting your guard down for once and going with the flow. Bucky can sense it. Sense the way there’s a shift between you, the blossoming of something bigger being accepted and not pushed away by you anymore.

“Only for my girl,” he says this like a promise. His right-hand goes up to gently brush against your cheek. You lean into the touch, that same hand cupping your cheek in response. Bucky has never felt more elated knowing that maybe finally you two can go to places he’s only dreamed of.

“Yours?” You question him playfully, which causes him to chuckle, the sound a low rumble, “You and I both know you are, sweetheart. I told you I had all the time in the world to make you fall for me—and I meant it,” he smiles, an intense fire in his eyes that only accumulates when you respond, “You don’t have to wait any longer, Bucky.”

He wastes no second to connect your lips, kissing you with a loving purpose. His lips have a slightly bitter taste to them from the beer that still lingered there. And yet, the bitterness disappears when one kiss turns into two and then three. His arms encircling you to pull you into his chest, your hands finding their way to the nape of his neck.

Bucky pulls away to ghost his lips against your jaw until his lips brush against your ear, “Those little moves you were doing for me earlier, do them again,” his husky tone sends a shiver down your spine as he tugs you in to dance with him. Your bodies mold to one another, hips swaying in rhythm with the vigorous music. The beat allows you to gyrate and grind in ways that drive him to the edge of his control.

His hand rests on the small of your back, holding you close, fingers splayed out as if making a silent claim. You can feel the way his gaze burns into you, the air getting hotter making it harder to breathe. Your hands trail up and down his arms as need be. The rest of the party fades away leaving you two alone in this space of this charged energy. Every lingering touch and longing glance is layered with unspoken urges that would soon intensify to the brink of madness.

“You have no idea what you do to me do you?”

“I do. I’m not immune to what’s going on between us, Bucky.”

Your body, your voice, the way you plead with your eyes for him to take this further—it causes a stirring within his pants—the fabric getting tighter the longer the dance goes on. He needs to get you away, to get you alone. Bucky needs to satiate this hunger for you that threatens to consume him or he is going to end up doing something Rated R on this dance floor.

The throbbing between your legs agrees.

An idea pops into Bucky’s mind when he glances at his group of friends. He increases the volume of his voice so you can hear him over the music, “The baseball team was going to host a game of hide and seek. Should we play?” Playful mischief glimmers in his eyes as he asks you.

“Hide and seek? Seriously?” You raise a brow, wondering how that was going to work in a mansion full of a million rooms.

“Yeah, come on. It'll be fun,” Bucky draws you away from the dance floor and over to where his friends are mingling and taking a few shots. Steve sees Bucky approach and they have a quick whispered exchange. Your eyes dart between them, curious as to what they're discussing.

“Seems like we’re getting a head start,” he comments to you as he leads you away from the main party and down a few intricate hallways. His hold on your hand is firm, yet careful—almost as if he’s afraid you’ll get lost in one of the many corners of the manor. The thrum of the music fades the further you slip away from the party. Your pulse spikes, both from the adrenaline of the game and the heat that still simmers between you.

Bucky has been to Tony’s parties plenty of times before, so he knows the layout of the manor pretty well. The clicking of your heels along the marble floors echoes at the pace of the beating of his heart. He tries to focus on the expensive artwork that lines the halls instead of the way your hand perfectly fits in his. The artwork is what’s guiding his path through the manor and you are the best distraction he could ask for.

“Where are we going?” Your voice echoes down the endless hallway.

“Somewhere no one will find us,” he winks at you, your heart skipping a beat at his words, his pace steady and purposeful as he turns one more corner and slips you two inside a room. You're encased in darkness, blindly feeling for a light switch until Bucky uses the flashlight on his phone to illuminate the space. You faintly make out your surroundings. You seem to be in one of the many guest rooms of the manor. The attention to detail in the room was no short of the attention paid to the rest of the place.

You knew Tony’s family had money, but seeing how they splurged for a mere guest room, meant his family was beyond loaded.

Bucky whispered something to you, but you didn’t catch it as he took you by the hand and ushered you into the room’s closet, clicking it shut behind him. He reaches up to turn on the small lightbulb to cascade the enclosed space in a soft glow, turning off the flashlight on his phone and putting it in his pants pocket. The tension is now thicker and more palpable in the small space, causing goosebumps to rise across your skin.

If you had a dollar for every time you and Bucky ended up in a tight space together, you would have exactly two dollars. While maybe strange, it somehow seemed fitting for you two.

Bucky steps closer to you, your bodies inches apart, the dim light doing nothing to dull the intensity in his eyes, “Now that I’ve got you here—I think I did a good job with the hiding spot, don't you?” His heated whisper brings your breath to a hitch.

You have to clear your throat to compose yourself, “I don’t know…We had a whole mansion to hide in, and you chose a closet?” You can’t help but tease him, trying to lighten the unbearable tension.

“Would you rather go hide in the library? The wine cellar? The arcade?” His voice is dripping with mirth taking another step closer to you. He knows what you're doing, but he’s not going to let the tension die down—not this time.

“The arcade sounds fun,” you quip, leaning back against the wall.

“Hm, maybe, but I prefer the closet. It’s a lot more private and it has its…advantages,” he reaches out to pull your hand up to his lips, planting a soft kiss across your knuckles. You go to use that hand to lightly push at his chest, but he catches it in time and intertwines your fingers instead. Your heart is racing a mile a minute.

“Maybe the closet isn’t so bad, but these heels…Worst decision I made tonight,” you shift slightly, not meaning to change the subject, but your heels are torturing you. In the quiet of the closet the pain begins to creep up on you, begging to be acknowledged. After hours of walking on them, dancing, and standing overall—your feet were killing you. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to stand upright while hiding.

“Are they hurting you?”

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Lets get them off then,” Bucky slides his hand underneath your right thigh, eyes locked on yours, as he hikes it up against the outside of his leg. Your hips brush up against his front, your breath catching at the intimacy of the moment. He watches your every reaction as he slides his hand down the underside of your leg until he reaches the strap of your heel. He’s able to undo it effortlessly, relieving you of the discomfort, his fingers grazing your ankle as he slides your right heel off. His every touch leaves heat in its wake.

“Bucky you really don't have to—” he cuts you off with a soft smile and half-lidded eyes, switching his hold from your right leg to your left one, “I want to, sweetheart. Just let me help, ” he removes the other heel with the same tantalizing tenderness he used for the first one. Putting them to the side where they won’t get in the way.

The relief you feel is immediate.

“Better?”

“Much.”

“Good.”

A moment passes before he speaks, his voice quiet with an underlying devotion, “You don’t get the hold you have on me, do you?’’ His right hand dances along the outside of your thigh while his left plays with the strap of your dress, twirling it between his fingers. The hand at your thigh traces patterns onto it. Trailing intricate swirls across the flesh, along your hips, ascending to your waist, and all the way up to the space between your breasts. The touch lingers there when you let out a soft sigh.

You honestly forget how to breathe.

“Say the word and I’m all yours, Y/n,” his voice is rough as his lips ghost against yours—seductively grazing against them. Going so far as licking his lips with an invigorating grin to really drive you crazy.

Bucky is waiting for you to make the deciding move. When you realize this, you throw all caution to the wind, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. You waste no time in granting him access to deepen it. Bucky follows your lead ardently. His hands snake down your body to cup your ass and pull you impossibly close to him.

Your hands get lost in his hair, a groan rumbling through him at the way you tug at it. You two aren’t sweetly kissing, you're devouring each other. Yearning for the other all night leaves no more room for taking things slow or holding back. You’re both now giving in to what you want most—each other.

The heat between you intensifies until it crescendos to a boiling point. The aching between your legs imploring you to do something about it. You reach down to tug at the waistband of his pants, causing Bucky to let out a husky laugh.

“If you want something use your words, sweetheart,” he mutters against your lips, you suppress a groan, “You know what I want. I don't have to say it,” you retort impatiently. Bucky shakes his head, smiling despite himself, “I want to hear you say it,” he dips his head to the crook of your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin. The hands on your ass give it a light squeeze emitting a small gasp from you. You can feel the shit-eating grin on your neck.

“Bucky….I…” your words are cut off by a soft moan when Bucky’s left hand sneaks its way through the slit of your dress until he reaches the inside of your thighs. He massages the flesh there, his thumb brushing against the hem of your panties.

Your arousal pools impossibly more, and the lustful haze only increases at the way you feel his hardened cock straining against his pants—right against your hip.

“Mm? What was that, baby? Couldn’t hear you over those pretty noises you're making,” his every word drips with cockiness.

“You're insufferable.”

“That’s my girl.”

Bucky kisses your neck with more fervor. Sucking and nipping at the skin hard enough to leave marks. Your thighs involuntarily close together at the way he calls you his girl. He eases them back apart with his deliberate touches. Kneading the soft flesh in his hands as his breathing goes ragged along your neck, tickling your skin. He was on the brink of losing what little control he had left.

You suck in a sharp breath, losing what little semblance of control you had left the higher his touch gets. He only goes so far, barely brushing across your clothed cunt to give you a taste of what he can do if you just let him hear it. You were desperate for more and he knew it.

“Fuck me, Bucky,” you manage to whimper out, hooking your fingers into his empty belt loops and yanking him towards you. Bucky lets out a low growl at the brief friction, his eyes darkening to an almost unrecognizable color. For a moment, his brain short circuits at your words, processing that you really said that to him accompanied by that alluring sound. He’s heard those sinful noises from you before, but never like this. Never with the assurance of more.

“Say it again.”

“Bucky, please just fuck me already.”

You don’t have to tell him another time. Bucky crashes his mouth onto yours with a new intensity, mumbling lustful promises into your mouth. How he wants you, how badly he aches to make you feel good, how he yearns for his pretty girl to lose herself with him, and so many more things that make you dizzy.

He moves to bunch up your dress, hiking it up your legs until it's bundled at your waist. His breathing strains at the sight—your black lacy panties luring him in—his muscles tensing at the growing need to be inside you. His left arm reaches down to hook his forearm under your knee and bring it up to his hip. You wrap that leg around him, steadying yourself on your other foot as you grind against each other. You can feel the way his cock aches to be freed and it causes you to arch deeper into him. Your moans mingle into one, the slight relief overwhelming you.

Bucky takes his free hand and splays it at the small of your back, offering strong support as your bodies continue to grind against one another. A chorus of moans and yearnful whines erupt from you both. All of the pining and hunger for one another amalgamates into one as you continue to rub against each other. You swallow each other’s sounds, tongues tangling carnally as neither of you leaves any room for air.

“Do you have—?”

“Back pocket. Wallet.”

Your lips barely disconnect at the brief exchange. You reach behind him, patting down his backside until you feel the outline of his wallet in his pocket. You take hold of it and bring it forward. Meanwhile, Bucky decides to leave wet kisses along the valley of your breasts. You can barely contain yourself and your soft moans as you pull out the condom. The wallet almost slips from your grasp as the attention to your breasts causes you to tremble.

You hold it tighter intending to put it back in his pocket when something catches your eye. In the clear slot where his identification should be is a polaroid picture from the weekend camping trip. You’re in that picture sitting next to Bucky on a couple of logs surrounded by your friends and peers. There’s a bright smile on Bucky’s face, his arm around your shoulder as you make bunny ears behind his head.

You love this picture. You have a copy of it taped to your bedroom mirror back home.

At your stillness, Bucky looks up to see what’s going on. When he notices you staring at the picture, he smiles fondly. " It's the only picture I had of us,” he utters softly, causing a warmth to spread throughout you. You gaze at him in tender awe, marveling at the fact that Bucky is real.

Why had you ever doubted he was anything but yours?

You kiss him this time with all the unspoken feelings you’ve bubbled up and kept inside. The wallet falls from your hands, but it's no matter as Bucky kicks it to the side with his foot, and shudders at the way your lips claim his. This goes beyond lust. Your heart beats with reason, and that reason is the man in front of you.

“Bucky, I want this. I want you. All of you,” you whisper passionately, your hands lowering to help him unbutton and unzip his pants, the foil neatly tucked between your fingers. A guttural moan leaves him when you push the layers of fabric down and free his cock, pumping it a few times to get a feel of it. His head falls to your shoulder, sighing softly in a near whine as you tear the foil open and roll the protection down his length. It twitches in your hands, his hips bucking at the contact.

His arms are preoccupied with keeping you close and steady, so you gently guide him to your center. Moving your panties to the side as he tantalizingly slides along your folds before he slowly enters you. Your mouth goes agape at the sensation while Bucky has to do everything to make sure he doesn’t cum right then and there.

This was so much better than what he had imagined in his dreams.

It's been too long since you’ve done this and the burn at the stretch causes you to cry out quietly. Bucky peppers your face with sweet kisses and whispers of devotion. Trying to do his best to comfort you as he lets you adjust inch by inch. The hand at the small of your back rubs circles into it with his thumb, your own hands shooting up to grip his biceps for support.

“I’m not gonna last if you tighten up like that sweetheart,” he hisses a groan at how tightly your walls envelop him. You’re really making it hard for him to not come undone in a short amount of time.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, baby, just relax for me.”

His gentle words are accompanied by thrusts that are slow with a deliberate purpose. He’s careful with his pace as he wants this to go at whatever speed you need. It takes a bit, but his soft kisses and comforting touches coax the burn away until you're left with the ardent ache of needing more.

“Faster, Bucky,” you plead breathily. He rests his forehead against yours.“Can you handle it, baby?” His question is full of loving concern, prioritizing your pleasure over everything.

“I can…fuck…please,” you assure him, your leg pulling him in tighter causing him to bottom out. Bucky curses and moans all in one. At your assurance, he picks up the pace of his hips, rocking them against you with a fiery velocity. The lewd sounds bouncing off the walls of the closet in waves.

He gives it to you exactly how you asked him to. That man would do anything for you—just say the word and its done.

Bucky is on cloud nine at the way you take him. The way your bodies mold and arch into one another’s like you can’t get enough. As if all you ever needed to consume to live was each other. When he goes to kiss you, you can barely kiss back as you’re too lost in the way he slams into you.

“Fuck, baby, if only you could see yourself. You’re so fucking gorgeous making those pretty expressions for me,” Bucky grunts out, drinking up the sight of your face. A string of mewls leaves your lips at the keen attention he keeps on you. Everything about you right now is a work of art in his eyes he wants framed and kept at his bedside. A constant reminder he’s the one who gets to make you look and feel so damn good.

“Don’t stop, please don't stop.”

“Wasn’t planning to, sweetheart.”

Your words egg him on to go harder, causing your back to press tightly against the wall. Hiking your leg just a tad bit higher to thrust into you at another angle. This was the best decision he ever made as he hits the perfect spot within you. One that leaves you clinging onto him desperately as your walls tighten on the brink of release.

It takes a few more fierce drives into you until your orgasm hits you and you're cumming with a feverish intensity. Moaning Bucky’s name in a euphoric mantra that’s music to his ears. It's what brings him over the edge and he stills at the force of his orgasm, his head collapsing into the dip of your neck as he releases into the condom.

“My girl. My sweet girl. You feel so good, baby,” Bucky softly whispers against your neck. Planting small kisses as both of you come down from your highs. Your arms wrap behind his neck to embrace him and keep him close to you. Bucky continues to mutter sweet praises along your skin, as your hands thread through his hair tenderly. Both of you steadying your breaths as you come back down to Earth.

If it weren't for Bucky holding your right leg up, it would've fallen from its position at his hip long ago. You’re even more grateful for it now as your body felt completely boneless. And when he pulls out, its the grip he has on your body that keeps your knees from buckling.

Bucky lifts his head so his gaze locks on yours. His blues are swimming with a vehemence that steals your breath and causes your pulse to race.

“Y/n, I…I wanted to give you some time. Time to figure things out—to figure out what you wanted. I tried pretending I was okay with pieces of you, but I’m not. I want all of you. I want to be yours,” Bucky confesses with sincerity. You reach out to interlock your hands with his, a floodgate of emotions engulfing you.

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s not hearing it, afraid you’ll want to go back to a place that would devastate him. “Wait, just hear me out. Everything I ever did was to get you to notice me. From the moment we met there was just something about you that kept pulling me in. And I knew—I just knew I had to get to know you. And then one thing led to another and I fell for you—hard. Now I can’t imagine my life without you. There's only you. It’s always been you. Give me a chance, let me prove it to you every day, that I’m yours. That I have been for a long time,” Bucky’s tone borders on pleading, you give his hands a light squeeze to ease the worry in his features.

“Bucky you have nothing to prove—”

“Y/n—”

This time you stop him by clamping a hand over his mouth.

“Bucky, you have nothing to prove because I’ve felt the same way for a long time. I just fought it for so long out of fear that maybe you weren’t serious about me. But I can see now I was wrong. I’ve been yours for a long time too, Bucky. I just pretended I wasn’t—and I’m done fighting it. I’m done being in denial. I want to have something serious with you. I’m ready for it,” your heartfelt confession immediately melts away the tension in Bucky’s shoulders.

You wanting this as much as he did made him feel like he was on top of the world.

He mumbles something into your hand, the biggest grin on the other side of it. You laugh adoringly at the sight as you remove your hand to replace it with your mouth instead. Both of you sink into the kiss as a deeper devotion is exchanged.

“Whoever is seeking is horrible at it,” you remove yourself with a light giggle, taking a jab at whoever the seeker of the hide-and-seek game is. A game that was long forgotten by Bucky until you mentioned it.

Bucky smiles sheepishly, “About that…there's not actually a hide-and-seek game. And if there is they don't know we’re playing,” he confesses with a twinkle in his eyes. You shake your head at him, laughing in disbelief, “Bucky, then what were you and Steve whispering about?” Your curiosity is met with a boyish grin from Bucky, “I was just letting him know not to come looking for me. I wanted to get some alone time with you,” his hands find your hips again to give them a gentle squeeze.

Bucky is far from done with you yet.

You roll your eyes lightheartedly at his revelation. Of course, he’d come up with a way to get you all to himself. Can you blame him?

After a few more stolen kisses and lingering touches, you both start to compose yourselves. Adjusting your outfits and collecting your items from the ground. Thankfully, the guest room has its own bathroom where the two of you can clean up much better than in the small closet. Tousled hair, smeared makeup, and sweaty skin required a deeper attentiveness.

You both take your time in freshening up. The bathroom lighting does wonders to reveal every piece of evidence of your sexual encounter. You can now clearly see all the red marks that would eventually turn into hickeys that scattered your neck and chest. Bucky beams pleased at the markings he’s left as you scold him for making them so prominent.

Bucky doesn’t give a damn. He’d gladly make more in an instant.

By the end, all that's left is to get your heels on, which Bucky insists on helping you with. He offered to carry you for the rest of the party or even giving you his shoes, but you declined both options. You paid good money for these heels so whether you liked it or not, you were forcing yourself to wear them.

Bucky helps you up onto the expansive marble counter. Lowering down onto his knees in front of you to slide your heels back onto your feet. Nimble fingers work the straps into place, making sure they're not too tight at the ankles. When he looks up at you, a devilish grin appears on his face. That spark of desire is back in your eyes when you see how good he looks knelt between your legs. Your mind was reeling with ideas as the heat once again pranced across your skin. Bucky’s gaze bore into yours, almost as if he could read your mind. He can’t help but get turned on again.

You were in the same boat.

“You know, I have a big stats test on Monday. I could use an emergency tutoring session right about now,” his tone is laced with suggestion as his fingers trace along your ankle. You hum, “Hm? Do you? I think I could accommodate that.” Your reply gives Bucky the go to start kissing up your legs until he reaches your knees. He never breaks eye contact as he places a tender kiss on each one before standing up and giving that same attention to your mouth.

“Perfect. Let’s get out of here, sweetheart,” Bucky mutters against your lips, the kiss a promise of the fun awaiting you for the rest of the night. Now that the lines were blurred beyond recognition, into something deeper, something real, you were both completely all in.

#smutty september fest 2024 #indulge with chuckles #18+ ❤️‍🔥#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky smut

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starryhutcherson · 7 months ago

Text

━━ A NEW FAMILIAR

author's note: crawled out of my hole for this one guys. sorry for being so ghost mode im working on putting out more stuff, apologies if this isn't of the highest quality as i'm running on sugar free redbull and three hours of sleep ! love my life hahahahaAHHHH

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: best friend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 4600+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Mike’s expression always glooms when you bring up the next date you’ve arranged. He knows how this story plays out; he knows the truth behind the men you’ve matched with on whatever sketchy website you’ve wasted your time on. They’ve molded themselves into the embodiment of perfection, through falsified photos and fabrications buried in their bios. His patience crumbles like fireplace ash as you skip around his living room and drone on about whatever dickhead you’ve set your poor, precious heart on.

He knows, always, the the outcome is running makeup and salty cheeks, sobbing on the floor of his living room in a creasing satin dress and his welcoming arms, a bitter exclamation of “you were right Mike” leaving your lips in the knowing silence and him gritting his jaw and pretending that it doesn’t bother him the the only habits you ever find yourself falling back into are the bad ones.

It’s no different today.

Mark or Matt or Mitch – you really were killing him, because it should be Mike. It should be him. Him that you’re getting ready for, him that you’re daydreaming about. And it’s an odd feeling, like a movie where your favorite character dies and then movie finishes and you have to accept that they aren’t coming back, no matter how long you sit glued to the reclinable chair, popcorn crunched beneath your sneakers and the credit-scene reflected in your shrinking pupils.

Mike’s not the type to be happier with the hope – he’d let the truth swallow him up, sink into his creaking bones, he’d live with the loss. But he still has hope for you. He has hope that your eyes will open and you’ll seep into his brain and his breath and his bed. He hopes you’ll start seeing him instead of just looking. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Ignorant optimism.

It feels like it.

It feels like it, right now, when he’s leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom and watching you get ready, your animated chatter reverberating around the small space between coats of mascara. He offered to give you a ride before you’d even asked, and he’ll tolerate the sting of watching you get out of the car looking all pretty for someone who isn’t him, just to make sure you get there safely. It’s the type of sacrifice he’ll make for you.

“I can’t even feel my face, I’ve been smiling so hard all day!” You squeal, powdering your cheeks with more purposeless product – he thinks it’s all pointless. You’re radiant, even in the harsh lighting of his bathroom.

He offers a low grunt. What is he supposed to say? He’s not happy. And he’s not gonna pretend he is.

You either don’t notice or choose to ignore, continuing to doll yourself up to whatever standards you have for yourself. “I mean, he says he’s been skiing since he was 6. He’s practically an olympian.”

Mike scoffs.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can you hurry up?”

“Alright, grumpy. Calm down. I gotta do my lips and then I’m ready. Plus, nobody told you that you gotta stand here.”

A fleeting flush of fuchsia permeates his cheeks, but he looks down at his worn shoes to hide it. It’s true. He didn’t have to stand here. But if an angel was populating your bathroom you’d want to take a peek, would you not? That’s how he thinks you look. Angelic. Glowing from your soul, a content smile knitted on your lips. You might as well have a halo and wings – that heaven-sent aura is reinforced when you douse yourself in lingering washes of that sweet perfume that’s branded itself to you. He’d recognise that floral aroma anywhere, the way a shark detects a drop of blood amongst saline scattered seas.

“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

Cruelest question of them all. “You look… fine. Good.”

A knot forms in your brow. “All this effort for that terrible answer?” Playful, but with a truthful undertone. Why do you value his opinion so much? He doesn’t want to assume anything.

“Well I’m not the person you’re dressing up for.” I wish I was. He doesn’t say the other words, but he thinks them so hard he’s half convinced if you were listening in the right spot, or looking into his eyes for long enough that you’d hear it anyway.

“Okay, okay, whatever. Let’s just get going, don’t wanna keep Mack waiting.”

Two letters. That’s all it would take. That’s all he’d have to swap to make it him.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

✩‧₊˚

Even if you aren’t aware, even if he did offer, he drives begrudgingly. He focuses as much as he can, on the road ahead and not your glistening figure beside him in the passenger seat, the very definition of temptation.

The mall parking lot is barren, a few gleaming cars scattered amongst the otherwise desolate area. He pulls into a space, sets the car in park, rakes in a greedy sigh of air.

“If anything happens, call me.”

You sneer teasingly. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s gonna be great, he could be my future husband, y’know.”

Yep. Mack, the 35 year old you've met online, who’s only notable talent seems to be skiing and his greatest life achievement to date is shooting a deer, whose head is mounted to the wall in his bedroom, typically visible in the background of his many instagram posts which involved his shirtless figure straining to flex his overly pronounced bulk. A match made in heaven. He wants to scream.

And how can you even tell him to not be pessimistic? How can you look him in the eyes and act like this moment hasn’t happened time after time, the point of no return before an evening spent crying in his arms as he reassures you that your failed dates are never your fault, even though by now it seems like you must be seeking out the same genre of shitty man if you’re this good at getting your heart broken. He’s sick of picking up the fragile little pieces of his bathroom floor, cutting himself on the shards of a heart that’ll never be his. You deserve more than these half-baked, single night romances. He could show you that.

“Yeah, sure,” he grits. “Future husband. Just call me, seriously.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you.”

And with that, you’re off, disappearing into the gaping mouth of the mall’s entrance, and he watches with an alkaline feeling growing in his stomach. Your hair is caught up in the wind like clothing on a washline and he thinks his hope is all drained out.

✩‧₊˚

Mike spends a good two hours back at his house. His movements feel vacuous, staring ahead at the screen, barely processing the raging garbage that masquerades as reality TV. The rain has picked up outside, licking at the window panes with a growing intensity.

He’s not happy about the jean skirt and tiny little tank top you’d clad yourself in prior to leaving, you’re probably frigid by now in the cold. You did however reassure him that Mack was gonna drive you home, or even worse, take you back to his place, so his stupid fucking elk head trophie could watch with it’s empty eyes while the pair of you fuck on the bed that his mom still has to make for him because he never can quite manage those fitted sheets, can he? Fucking manchild.

Shit. Mike’s feeling so so bitter. Maybe it’s because he’s finally realized that this is the dreaded pattern he’s going to have to endure with you until death. Or until he braves up and actually tells you that he’s been in love with you since the fifth day of second grade, when you mouthily confronted Jerry Murdoch and told him to give Mike his crayons back.

With a weak sigh, he turns the TV off with a click of the remote still encaptured in the loose hold of his fist, and decides to see if he can melt into any form of sleep – but the knock on his door prevents him from doing so.

He arises lethargically, not having much on his mind but the denial of his slumber as he shuffles over and turns the handle, but then, it’s you.

Fluttery lashes melted to black smudges beneath your eyes, a mixture of rainwater and tears, completely drenched and dripping all over his doormat, your body is trembling and you’re wracked with tiny little cries and he’s feeling so many emotions he believes he might implode.

He pulls you inside and into his arms, stroking your back in gentle, soothing motions, and it kills him that this has become routine. He’s angry. He’s sick of this.

“What happened this time?” He grunts softly.

“He didn’t even show up. He couldn’t even send a message as to why, Mike,” you sniffle into his warm chest, drunk off the even echo of his heartbeat.

A moment’s silence rots like aged fruit. He draws a breath in, then out, then in again.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You crane your face upwards to meet him, instantly bathed in a nervous shiver when you see how serious he looks.

“My phone was dead.” Is all you can manage to mumble.

“What?” He’s pissed. “Why didn’t you charge it? You could have charged it there, they have outlets at the mall. Or you could’ve used someone else’s, so you didn’t have to walk home in the rain, because you’re drenched.”

“I don’t–”

“Y’know how dangerous it is to walk around alone in this shitty neighborhood? Half the street lights don’t even work, and I don’t even know any of my neighbors, or what kinda people walk around here at night.” He grumbles. “I shouldn’t have to tell you all this, I’m sick of explaining all this to you.”

You roll your eyes irritably, releasing yourself from his arms and crossing your own across your dripping wet torso. “How was I supposed to know he was gonna stand me up? You’re telling me I should just expect it?”

He blinks like a deer in headlights, silence settles into his flesh.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You scoff. “It’s what you implied.”

“It’s not what I—” He grumbles weakly under his breath, cutting himself off, deciding reasoning with you is somewhat of a useless attempt. “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“What, charge my phone next time? Bring a raincoat? Yeah, great help, seriously, don’t know where I’d be without you,” your sarcasm hits like gunshot wounds to the teeth.

“Or maybe you should try to meet actual people, instead of fake ones from some stupid website.”

After a cold shiver bites up your spine, your expression deepens with defense. What is his fucking problem? “At least I try to get out of the house! At least I don’t spend every hour of every day moping around and feeling sorry for myself!”

The pair of you fight, sure, every good relationship, friend or romance or family or whatever should, but nothing like this. This is stone-set, it’s been coming for a while, the wild gesticulations and the pacing and the raised voices. It shakes the bones of the weakened house.

“Don’t,” Mike says with a furious edge, fists tightening and untightening like he’s about to take a swing at the wall, like this is going to end with bleeding knuckles nipped with shards of worn plaster. “Don’t throw that in my face, I do everything I can, for you and Abby. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“So what, you’re so fucking miserable in your own life that you have to try and control mine?”

“Control? You’re like my child! You don’t even know how to take care of yourself half the time, so yes, I try to help you not to make such shitty decisions!”

You scowl. “You’re not obligated to do anything for me, y’know Mike. Why do you keep me around if I’m that much of a chore for you!”

He snaps, the tension in his fists bleeding up into his throat, his mouth, the words clot behind his gums and suddenly they tumble out in a fury-fueled shout. “Because you’ve got no one else!”

You deflate, wilting like a flame without oxygen, and Mike deems the silence to be more cruel than anything else you’ve said to him tonight. He’s feeling everything and nothing all at once, the quiet crumbles around him like a burning building and he fears he’ll become rubble beneath the debris.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… god, just–” His eyes flick to you, and then retreat back down to the faded living room carpet. He can’t swallow his guilt this time. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s fine,” you say coldly, knuckling away an angry tear. The salt water is the trick of nostalgia, you’ve cried like this so many times. Your breakage of those promises to yourself. It’ll be different. And it never is.

“No. It’s not – I’m a dick, I just… I hate watching other people ruin your life. You deserve better.”

Better. What is better? Some twisted fantasy that some people are indulged with and others are left longing for. That you’re left longing for. You know he’s tired of the same bullshit that you force yourself through, convincing yourself of change, painting yourself up to be fit for presentation, and hoping that whoever you’ve leeched onto likes what they see, so you don’t have to feel so alone anymore. You’re oblivious, painfully so. Because Mike could plaster together the cracks in your splintering psyche, if you’d just let him in.

“Whatever, Mike. It’s true anyway.”

There’s a hole in his heart in the shape of your name. He begs you. Fill it. A part of him shatters at the defeat in your words — he’s crumbled you to the bone, to the marrow. He’ll build you back up. You deserve it.

“No it isn't. No it isn’t. You have me. You’ll always have me.”

A silence pervades; the look in his eyes is one of pleading, that you’ll stop and see what he’s offering you, that you’ll stop chasing your own tail, that you’ll stop the cycle.

“Mike…”

“And Abby.”

You indulge him.

“You have me. And you have Abby. And I know that’s… not much, but she loves you. So much. And I’m sorry, ‘cause I know I don’t say it enough, I don’t…. I don’t say how much you mean to me, but I just—”

“Mike.”

He wallows in the waters of your rain kissed eyes, the way your pupils pulse and the words are falling before he can swallow them back down.

“I love you.”

He gives you that stare. That stare that’s the color of black coffee, the look that you can feel, unearthing the graveyard of wilting feelings you’ve tried to bury, the heart that beats for him him him, lodged between the ivory bars of your ribcage. He maps you out with his eyes, he looks at you the way the sun hungers for daybreak.

He’s waiting. He’d wait forever.

“And… and seeing you with these… shitty people who don’t even care about you, it just…” He sighs exasperatedly, dragging a sweaty palm down his face.

His sentences can’t seem to finish themselves. This is harder than it looks in the movies. Harder than when he’s practiced in the mirror, when Abby’s walked in and giggled at him and told him to just fess up.

“You love me? Like…”

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “Yeah. I do.”

You’re beyond bewildered. He loves you. He loves you.

“What– but… you—”

“You don’t have to… say anything. I just, I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t do it.”

You reach for his hand. It’s a little clammy, a little trembly, but it’s a perfect fit. Just like you.

“I love you too, Mike.”

What?

“You… do?”

He’s skeptical, but he’s also swooning. A stone man is slowly cracking.

“I just didn’t… didn’t think I could have you. I mean, you’re so… you’re everything, y’know? You’re a good brother, and you work so hard, and you’re… I’m just… I don’t think I deserve you,” you whisper, confessing. With a newfound stroke of confidence, he approaches, one hand snaking around to the small of your back, another on your cheek. He’s gentle. In his eyes, you’re porcelain. Precious. Fragile. At least, at this moment. But you love him too and that’s all he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed.

“You deserve everything.” He says it so quietly it’s barely audible. And then, nothing is audible because he’s carefully pulling your lips to his, linking you in every way, his hands tangle into your damp hair and he’s kissing you.

His lips chase yours in messy, uncalculated movements. He’s starting small. It’s been a while. And he’s gonna take his time with you. He’s gonna show you what you deserve. Soft sounds squeak past his lips as they flutter against yours, and you’re closer and closer and closer still, impossibly so.

Within moments he’s whisking you off to his bedroom, his hand tangled with yours, an interlace tight enough to cause ropeburn. His skin chafes with yours, and then he’s kissing you again atop his navy comforter.

He’s gentle, respectful, but you understand what he’s trying to tell you, what he’s been trying to tell you. He speaks through silken drags of his tongue, through the hand that holds your cheek steady— he feels as though he’s gripping the very cusp of a constellation. You taste like stardust. You glow like the waning moon.

He breathes heavily in the expanse of his throat, his pants have become tight and wet and filthy; he’s been subconsciously grinding down into your lap. You’re a little shaky and your pupils have darkened with lust and he is going to show you what you mean to him. What you’ve been missing.

His hand falls lower, into the slope of torso that dips into your hips. His eyes travel back and forth, searching, hunting for the desire that he feels mirrored back at him. Do you want this, the way he does? Do you? His hardened stare doesn’t speak loud enough. He elaborates.

“Can I… uh… do you wanna…?”

Do you want to? You need to.

“Shit, okay,” he croaks out, jaw tense and tight as he traces you beneath calloused fingers. You didn’t realize you said that out loud.

He’s endearingly awkward – you know from languid late-night conversations that he hasn’t done this a lot. Maybe even at all. But he’s sweet, so sweet, like lapping up sugar and feeling it dissolve on your tongue, feeling him dissolve on your tongue, giving you comfort and cavities.

“Can I take this off?” He asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of your camisole. A short nod, and he’s sliding it over your sweat-pricked figure, admiring your contours in the whisper of evening moonlight that bleeds through holes in his moth-eaten curtains. You’re perfect, and he knew you would be.

He caresses your skin gently, drunk on the mellow feeling of your bare stomach beneath his fingertips. Your bra is black, a little lace peering along the straps, your breasts spilling into the fabric. He reaches around your back, fumbling at the clasp. When the garment drops, his hands are replacing it before you can even blink.

“Beautiful,” he manages to get out, thumbing over your nipples.

“Mngh, Mike—”

“Sh. Just let me… just let me. Let me make you feel good. Please?” He grunts out under his breathless voice, and how could you deny such a request?

The moment you agree, he’s grabbing you by the thighs and tugging you towards him slightly, so your back is nearly flat against his mattress and he’s settling himself in the gap that you create for him.

Your skirt comes off first. Your panties are undeniably soused, his fingers trace the big wet spot that’s dripping all for him, teasing you through torturously thin cotton.

“Mike,” you mewl gently, fingers settling in his nest of chocolate curls that are damp with sweat. A firm tweak and he’s groaning, his voice melting away into nothing like hot tar.

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles to himself, like he’s never seen anything like it. Probably not in a while. His finger hooks beneath the waistband, pulls it out gently, and lets it go. It slaps against your hip bone and another fresh sound seeps from your lips.

“Mike, shit, please just do something—”

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than you, carefully sliding your panties from your waist, down past your ankles, and he’s tossing them to join the pile of clothes that has begun to collect on his bedroom floor.

You’re here, before him. The girl he waited for. Your soft flesh is glistening, clenching painfully around nothing, and he’s salivating at the sight of you. He pries your legs out further with his warm hands, leaving them to linger on your bare flesh for a few drawn out moments, before he claims what’s rightfully his.

He presses a trialing kiss to your clit, and your back curves delicately, fingers tightening their grasp in his hair. He moans into you at this action, and you, in turn, moan as well. Confidence creates itself in him with each little whimper that he gets you to release, and he’s answering back, hearing your cries, your calls of his name with his own unabashed exclamations of pleasure. This is just as good for him, as it is for you.

“Mike,” you whine gently, and he’s mumbling weak praise right into your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long.”

It’s barely audible between his languid sucks; he’s lapping at your drooling entrance, fingers subtly creeping closer, up and along your thighs and settling right above your throbbing clit. He presses his thumb against it, tracing sinful circles against your bud— once, twice, and then you’re far too close to the edge.

“Oh, Mike I’m gonna come,” you choke out between gasps.

“Do it. Please.”

He’s begging you.

And you oblige. With a trembling sob, your thighs tense around his head, keeping him locked in place, capturing him and making sure he finishes the job, and oh does he plan to. When you soar, he’s still holding you in place, soothing the electric sparks pulsating throughout your body.

He savors your sounds, and when they stop coming, he presses a lingering peck on your inner thigh, stubble scraping at the sensitive dermis. He then raises his face to your level, the light coruscating off the filthy souvenir etched all over his face, your glittering arousal that he wears so proudly.

He steals a proper kiss from you, rubbing your side as a gentle comfort. He’s completely hard now, tenting his sweats, leaking against the fabric. You gingerly reach out, tracing what you assume to be the head of his cock, and he sags, boneless, against your touch.

“Fuck, baby I—”

“Baby?” You chuckle softly, still hazed from the candy-coated afterglow of your orgasm. The first of many, he hopes.

“Mngh— g… got a problem?” He grumbles softly, almost quivering as you begin to palm him with purpose.

“It’s out of character,” you tell him gently.

“Shit, can I be inside you?” He asks you, voice ripped raw.

And once again, Mike Schmidt leaves you breathless.

“Yeah. I need it. I need you.”

He groans, slipping off his pants and boxers without so much as another word from your swollen lips. He’s hard, angrily so, his cock pulses violently and a little whimper escapes through the crack in his bitten lips when it slaps against his stomach.

He’s stroking himself slowly, base to tip and then back again, collecting the pearls of precum that dribble from his slit. He’s never been so ready for something. For you. It’s all for you.

He’s holding you, thumbing your hip bones and gently nudging himself into your hole, cooing at every cry that crawls from the crevices of your throat. When he bottoms out, finally, it’s safe to say that he gets a little dumb. “Oh, shit, I’m not— not gonna last long, you’re so tight, shit…” He’s rambling a little. It’s cute.

A few wandering kisses land on you the way dandelion spores decorate a skyline – your cheek and your chin and your jaw, as he waits for you to let him move. You’re squeezing him for all he’s got and he’s three seconds away from spilling before he’s even so much as thrusted. You do this to him.

All those days, staring into your eyes and wondering if you’d ever see him the way you do, all those nights, stroking your hair and softening your saddened sobs after failed date after failed date. They’re all worth it.

You’re clamping down on him, warm and wet and wavering, and you’re exhaling softly through your nose and telling him to move, begging him to move, to make you feel good, and it’s what he does.

He pumps into you with passion, magnetized to your every movement. He’s satisfying a decade worth of insatiable craving, he’s chasing your hips with his. You end where he begins.

The headboard creaks and slams against thin plastered walls, one hand grips onto it with alabaster knuckles and the other one holds your hips for better leverage. He doesn’t need to say it, but each knocked kiss of his pelvis to yours is a silent I love you I love you I love you.

“Oh my god Mike,” you sob, and he slides himself deeper, hitting everywhere he wants to reach. Everywhere to make you quiver beneath him.

“You d—don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he moans lowly. “How many times I’ve imagined you like— like this.”

He’s blabbering, every stray thought that passes through his head is already blossoming on his tongue and out into the air before he can even think twice. Admittedly, you’re too blissed out in your own mind to really respond, but it’s arousing all the same.

“You’re so… so beautiful,” he’s flushed and he’s faltering, and you know he’s close before he even announces it.

“Shit, baby, I can’t— can’t last much longer,” he stammers, his bruising pace beginning to shake.

“Do it in me, Mike, please, please,” shit, are you trying to kill him? Your word is the only law he knows, and he’s wrapping his arms around your torso and diving his head in the elegant slope of your collarbone, biting down into the skin and spasming somewhere deep in your welcoming walls.

He tries to keep himself quiet, but it’s really a futile effort. His hips jut sporadically as he empties himself inside you, and the sudden flood of subtle heat is all it takes for you to topple over as well.

Bliss teeters back into reality after a seemingly ceaseless moment. He peels his head from its previous position to admire you, to stroke a stray lock of hair from your forehead and nervously greet it with a kiss.

He doesn’t let go of you. Not now, not ever, he thinks to himself. His arms snake around you tighter, and somehow it’s even more intimate after the fact. His bare chest collides with your back, his nose rests comfortably against the crown of your head. The pair of you follow each other into a dreamless sleep, safe in the sanctuary of a warm bed and an even warmer embrace.

He’s found his new familiar.

masterlist

✩‧₊

#mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #peeta mellark smut #hunger games #michael schmidt #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt fluff #josh hutcherson angst #josh hutcherson fluff

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just-a-jock · 1 year ago

Text

Happy late Halloween. I hope you guys enjoy this Halloween special. Aaron miller is my favorite fitness influencer and always want to use him in story’s but always want to save him for something good. I ended up saying fuck it and writing the below. Let me know if you like it!

ROOMMATE CLONESTUME (Halloween Special)

You would think having a fitness influencer as a college roommate would be like winning the lottery. Being able to see pieces of eye candy almost every day, almost practically shirtless all the time, but it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. You see Aaron Miller was your typical douchebag straight jock bro behind the camera. Always calling me fag but always saying he’s just joking and I need to toughen up. Of course, you would never catch him like that on camera, always playing like the fun-loving jock goofball. Thankfully he’s leaving tonight to go to some stupid Halloween party at the frat house.

“Yo fag! How do I look” I hear his voice call from the living room

“Fucking hot right! All the chicks are gonna be all over me begging from some of this Miller cock” he said while smirking and flexing in front of the full-length mirror in the living room

“Yeah I’m sure they will Aaron” I reply while rolling my eyes and begging he would leave soon.

“You know some other frat across campus invited me to their Halloween but I already promised my bro I’m going to Alpha Omegas party. Feel free to accept my invite”

"I think I'm good, I got to finish my term paper but I guess thanks" I replied thinking it weird why he would think I would somehow fit in at a frat party

“Well, bro the invite is in my room and feel free to use last year's costume.. might be a bit big haha. Anyway gotta go before the good Pus gets taken” Aaron said taking one last pic for his IG story and heading out

“Thank god, I can finally work on my paper,” I said heading to my room. I walk by Aaron’s room and notice his door ever so slightly open. I ended up looking in and seeing a paper which I assumed was the invite lying on his messy bed next to what seemed to be the black Spiderman suit he wore last year for Halloween.

“Wow, did he really think I was gonna put that on” I say as I continue to walk further into the room the scent of stale gym clothes and musky axe cologne lingered in the air.

As I get closer to the bed I keep looking back and forth from the costume and the letter. I don’t know why but I ended up grabbing the costume something about it was calling me. The silky satin feeling of the spandex with the scent of stain sweat and beer, most likely from last year's party. “Maybe I should try it on” I whisper under my breath.

I start to undress myself in Aaron’s room until I’m standing in just my briefs. I look around feeling kinda risqué in his room half naked, but something felt right about putting this one. I slowly start to unzip the costume looking into the dark interior. As I started to put on the costume I could immediately tell it was quite a few sizes too big and especially since Aaron had worn it previously certain areas were stretched out more than usual. I slowly start to pull the costume up my body as I get halfway to putting it on something feels wrong

“No no why am I doing this I need to work on my paper” I say snapping out of the hazy confusion but as soon as I try to take off the suit I knew something was wrong

“What the fuck” The rest of the suit starts to climb up my slim body and sticking to any skin it touches. I tried to remove it, but the suit just snapped back almost like a second skin. “STOP” I scream as it continues to travel upwards my body covering all the way up until it reaches my neck. I soon hear the noise of a zipper closing and a cold feeling riding up my back. I immediately reached backwards trying to catch the self-moving zipper before it closed all the way, but I was too late as soon as I grabbed the zipper head I felt it disappear from my hand as the suit started to close up leaving no seam behind.

“What the fuck is this, how does this happen” I continue trying to take off the suit but it just gets tighter and tighter until a moment where I lose control. “What..” my body starts to move slowly by itself it feels like I lost control of anything the suit has encompassed. I start to move towards Aaron’s nightstand, grab the remote to his TV and turn it on. I was immediately blasted with the audio and imagined Aaron almost like he was starting off one of his annoying Instagram videos.

“What is going on PEEEOPLES! Or should I say fag” he said chuckling to himself at the uncreative nickname he has bestowed upon me.

“WHAT THE FUCK AARON WHAT IS THIS” I scream at the tv as my body stands still disobeying my mind.

“ you’re probably going “what the fuck Aaron?” or some shit like that but no bother bro, this is all recorded. No one to help you now haha. You see I was tired of having some fuck ass roommate that I couldn’t share anything with so I looked online and found this powder with some special powers. I sprinkled it on my old costume and all I had to do was wait for the next person to wear it. I knew you would be tempted. I mean who couldn’t” he says as he flexes his bicep.

“So anyways, I got invited to this banger party and said yes but some other frat also invited me to theirs and like fuck I couldn’t be in two places at once. So I thought and figure maybe you’ll like to go but couldn’t have some loser gay fag representing me so I decided you needed a small makeover. That special powder is gonna make you into me and you won’t even remember ever being your faggy little self. So hope you enjoy the party bro and remember the party is not complete till a girl gets bred.” And with that the TV shut off but before I could react something went over my head shutting my eyes

“Fuck fuck get this off of me” I say noticing that it was a mask probably to complete the stupid Spider-Man costume.

Soon the changes started to happen I felt the suit tighten but at the same time expand. It first started with my feet growing to a large size 14. The changes travelled upwards as my calfs and thighs started to expand giving me tree trunks for legs. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fit in any of my pants anymore. Soon I felt a pain in my stomach like I was kicked by a boxer

“UGH FUCK” I say as I fall on my knees. While I couldn’t see anything under the suit I knew abs started to form one by one leaving an impressive six-pack behind. As I looked down I started to see my chest push out. Creating a shelf right under my head. Two massive pecs now jutted out of my body and now I had to make an effort if I wanted to see any part of my body below my pecs.

The change travelled outwards as the suit forced me to do a double bicep pose typical of what I see Aaron do when he’s back from the gym. Soon my biceps and triceps started to expand like crazy. My muscles became sore as they grew to match his arms exactly.

Lastly, the feeling travelled up to my face and I felt the muscles crack inside my skull and the fat draining from my cheeks. I was screaming in agony until the pain suddenly left.

My body Finally fell down to the ground like a puppet dropped by its owner. I slowly get up and start to remove the mask and notice the zipper has reappeared. I zip the costume just until it hits my waist. My body was sweating from the changes and I needed to know what happened.

I knew Aaron had a mirror in his closet and ran to the door to open it. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was seeing…

An exact copy of him was standing right in the mirror.

“No no, this can’t be… I can’t be him” I say panicking not recognizing my own body in front of me. I tried to figure out what I could do to change back and started to run to my room, but as soon as I reached the door to exit, I came to a sudden halt.

I looked down which was difficult trying to see over these massive pecs and realised I still had the costume on. My eyes widened as my legs started to walk me back to his desk and force me to sit down. I tried to fight back but to no use. I was losing control… soon my arm started to move toward the computer and turning it on

“No wait, stop please” I scream at my unresponsive body but it continued to move on its own.

As the computer turns on a pre-loaded video comes along with it...

YOU ARE AARON MILLER

��NO NO STOP” I scream realizing it was hypnosis

Clips of Aaron flexing and pictures of his body invade the screen between phrases.

YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN AARON

FLEX

JOCK

MUSCLE

My eyes started to become glued to the screen against my will. I tried to resist but I couldn’t. Soon I noticed my arms moving again. They move downwards and started to push the costume lower until *pop* my cock bounces out.

“No… please let me go,” I say as the arm reaches for my dick and starts to jack it off slowly at first.

JOCK

BRO

Soon the images changed. More of Aaron joking around with his friends, drinking, partying and working out. Videos of him fucking and breeding girls always started to appear. I knew some of them from school

BRO

DUDE

BREED

Soon the jacking off started to pick up speed as more and more of the hypnosis and reprogramming started to settle in. My brain was trying to fight a losing battle. I was able to gain a small amount of control to see my cock as I noticed it starting to expand. Slowly it lengthened from its original 5 inches hard …. 6…7….8 until I reached a mighty 9 inches. My hand started to lose grip as the girth also started to grow almost not allowing me to fully encompass the cock with one hand. Next, I felt my balls change they started to lower until they fell into a pouch inside the costume that no doubt used to be where the original Aaron had his. They grew larger as my moans started to overshadow the video. I felt a kick in the balls as I knew my old cum was being eaten by the new alpha cum Aaron produces

“Pls… uhhh… stop this” I say with the last residuals of will I had as my arm continued jacking my new cock until it reached near orgasm

“No….”

BREED

“Pls…”

JOCK

“I don’t”

YOU ARE

“Want thi….”

AARON MILLER

“FUUUUUUUCK”

I cum all over my body and my room as I snap out of the horny daze

“Fuck that was good. Now gotta get to that fucking party before someone takes all the good puss”

I get up from the desk and shuffle over to my closet to grab a used cum towel and wipe myself off.

I grab the costume from my waist and pull it all the way up zipping the costume as well. I smirk in the mirror knowing all the chicks are gonna want some of this Miller cock.

The original Aaron’s plan worked perfectly. He now had a complete copy of himself running around breeding and partying. He finally had someone he could share everything with, himself! Of course, people asked questions but he just said it was his twin brother.

#jock #muscle #biceps #hunk #jock tf #nerdtojock #pecs #jock strap #gay to straight

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darkbluekies · 11 months ago

Note

hedwig valentine story pls pls ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

Sweet like a Dior lip balm<3

Female!yandere oc x yn

Summary: valentines with your rich girlfriend is always sweet

Warnings: none?

Valentine’s special

You’re awoken by Hedwig softly caressing your face. with a yawn, you open your eyes and meet her hazel ones that are staring at you. A wide smile spreads on her face as you notice her. She’s dressed in her light blue satin pajamas — that she insisted to match with your green one.

“Sit up, I have something for you”, Hedwig smiles and helps you up into a sitting position.

You think that she is awfully excited this early in the morning. Carefully, you glance at the clock on the bed side table. Seven am.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t sleep”, she smiles. “I was way too excited.”

“For what?” you yawn.

“‘For what’? My love, it’s, Valentine’s day!”

“Oh, right.”

You haven’t gotten anything for her, because when you tried to go out and buy something for her, she threw a fit because you wanted to go alone. That’s her own fault, you think.

“I have the entire day planned!” Hedwig smiles widely, clapping her hands excitedly. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

She places two neatly wrapped gifts on your legs while watching with big eyes as you open them. She has given you a rolex watch and a lip balm from Dior.

“Why this?” you ask and hold up the lip balm.

Hedwig giggles and opens the balm, swiping it along your lips.

“Because I’m going to kiss you a million times today”, she smiles and pecks your lips sweetly. “And this makes it very nice. It’s my favorite one and I think that you would like one too.”

“It’s nice”, you reply, feeling it on your lips.

Hedwig smiles. Her eyes are filled with love to the point that you wonder if she’s going to cry. She looks like she’s filled with bigger emotions than her body can handle.

A knock on the door makes Hedwig gasp. She runs over to the door and lets her private chef come in, holding a tray in his hands. He places it on the bed and you can only drool over the thick, fluffy pancakes and multiple side dishes. The chef leaves and Hedwig smiles at you, nodding at the plates.

“It’s yours”, she smiles. “All yours.”

“For me?” you question, even if it was clear that she had made her chef create this just for you. “Thank you.”

She watches you as you try the pancakes, and smiles widely when you make sounds of satisfaction.

“I haven’t gotten you anything”, you say sheepishly. “You never let me go out and get you something.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that!” Hedwig exclaims and sounds genuinely surprised that you thought of that. “I already have everything I need. Just seeing you happy is all that I could ever wish for.”

She sprints up from the bed and over to her wardrobe where you have gotten your own little corner. She picks out a newly ironed outfit you own.

“Do you want to wear this?” she asks, although you know that you will wear that no matter what. “It will match my dress.”

You nod. Hedwig smiles happily and handbags the outfit on the chair in the corner of the room. You get to change into the clothes once you have eaten and she helps you fix yourself. She styles your hair, takes care of your face and gives you jewelry. Carefully, she swipes the Dior lip balm over your lips, cups your cheeks and kisses you.

“I love you so much”, she whispers lovingly. “You are everything I could ever need. I’m so lucky.”

You smile slightly. You never know what to answer when she bombards you with love. You never feel like anything you respond is enough.

Two hours after waking up, you’re out of the house, hand in hand with your girlfriend. She looks like a doll, with curled hair, pink satin dress and a white handbag. Sometimes, you feel inferior to her, even though she is the one worshiping you.

“Where are we going?” you ask as Hedwig’s driver opens the car doors for the two of you.

“It’s a secret”, she smiles. “But I promise that you’re going to like it!”

During the entire car ride, you listen to music that you like, on Hedwig’s demand. You start to wonder if she has confused Valentine's day with your birthday.

The car stops outside a Cafe and your eyes widens as you see the sign over the door, and the kittens in the window.

“You're kidding”, you gasp. “A cat Cafe?”

Hedwig smiles widely and nods excitedly. Her chauffeur opens your door and lets the both of you out. Hedwig drags you over to the door and you’re welcomed by two kittens that want to say hi. You pet them as Hedwig talks to the waiter about your reservation. The little kitten licks your fingers and purrs loudly.

“Come, sweetheart”, Hedwig says and pats your shoulder. “We’ll be shown to our table.”

You let go of the little cat and joins Hedwig. You notice how the cat follows you with happy eyes. Hedwig giggles at the sight. You get to sit down by a window in the corner of the room, away from the other guests.

“Here’s the menu, I will be back in a little while”, the waiter smiles, gives you two folders and leaves.

You start to look through the menu and feel how the little cat jumps up on your lap.

“It’s following me”, you chuckle.

“Yeah …”, Hedwig smiles as her unreadable smile slowly, carefully, widens.

“Aren’t you going to see what you want?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah …”

She looks down into the menu, skimming through. You decide to get yourself a vanilla milkshake and a piece of chocolate cake. Hedwig orders a soda with a strawberry shortcake. She stares at you while you pet the cat that has fallen asleep in your lap.

“I can already tell that you will be a great parent”, she smiles. “When we have our kids we have to get a pet too.”

“A cat?” you ask.

“Not necessarily. I would love a dog. A pomeranian perhaps … or a poodle.”

You take a sip of your milkshake, and of course Hedwig wants to taste. She wants to take a bite of your chocolate cake as well, and you start to wonder if she ordered different food from you to be able to taste more.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am”, she says. “I don’t dare to think about what would have happened if we would have never met, if you’d never have transferred to my school. I can’t picture my life without you. We graduate this summer, and then we’re free … and we can do what we want. Isn’t that fantastic?”

“I think that I’m going to go to university”, you say.

“Oh, really? You don’t have to study, you know that right? You won’t even have to work. We can live on my money.”

“But I would like to continue studying.”

Hedwig looks genuinely shocked that you want to continue your studies.

“I want to contribute to society”, you say. “Somehow.”

“We will”, Hedwig says and smiles widely. “But we won’t have to suffer for it! I’m going to be a runway model and you can do whatever you want. Indulge in your hobbies!”

You decide to not fight against her and instead enjoy the cake you ordered.

The day continues with you and Hedwig petting cats and enjoying the food. Hedwig moves over the table to sit beside you while you play with a little kitten. She hugs your arm, leaning her chin on your shoulder.

The sun sets early this time of year, and Hedwig insists on taking a walk around the wealthy neighborhood she lives in. The houses are three times the size of yours and worth more than your entire family’s income put together. Despite being with Hedwig for months now, you can’t still feel comfortable — you feel like you’re trying to be someone you’re not. Although cold and dark, it was nice to walk alongside Hedwig.

“I know that this is supposed to be a ‘hot girl’ walk … but I’m cold”, you shiver.

Hedwig turns to you and takes your hands between hers, blowing warm air. She’s always loving in every action she does. You’re impressed that a girl as wealthy and spoiled as Hedwig isn’t unbearable. She has never been insufferable, although you have noticed that she can be out of touch, but she has never been entitled.

“Are you feeling better?” she asks sweetly.

“When can we go inside?” you question.

“When we’re cold enough.” She smiles slightly. “Otherwise the hot chocolate won’t taste as good.”

“What have you planned?”

“I’ve planned for us to snuggle down on the couch in the living room, watch a movie and drink hot chocolate.”

You can’t help but enjoy the idea.

“You’re going to fall asleep before the movie starts though”, you tease her.

“I will not!” she protests, but you know that she believes that as well.

You’re not sure that she has ever been able to watch an entire movie with you. Her excuse is that she feels so safe and comfortable with you that she gets tired, and eventually falls asleep.

When you return inside, her father’s staff has already fixed the living room with romantic lit candles and steaming chocolate for the two of you. You change into pajamas and climb under a heavy blanket on the big couch with Hedwig right beside you.

“Tastes better when you’re cold, don’t it?” she smiles. “I learned it when we were skiing when I was a kid. Now, I can only drink hot chocolate when I’m cold.”

You nod. Hedwig smiles and kisses your lips to lick off the whipped cream and giggles. You smile.

Not even ten minutes into the movie, Hedwig has dozed off on your shoulder, holding your hand in hers.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere fics #yandere oc x reader #yandere stories #female yandere #soft yandere

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ghastlyfilters · 15 days ago

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Hi! Saw you were taking Lost Boys requests...

I have a lot of silly concepts or ideas but my favorite is poly!Lost boys with a partner (I usually prefer fem reader but whatever ur comfy with is all good) who loves stealing some of their older clothes. Like, reader is smaller than them so the clothes are really comfy. Especially the older stuff cus decade+ old fabric is so soft.

reader stealing the lost boys’ clothes!!

pairing(s): implied poly!lost boys x fem!reader

warning(s): aside from paul and marko definitely paying attention to your curves, none!!

(now if i was the reader here i know damn WELL i would be stealing their clothes too. each one of their styles is literally perfection and to see that shit on vampires? HELLO? also i may have gotten a bit too carried away with thinking about all their clothing designs.. but thanks for this cute request<3)

gifs not mine! (if you know the original owner please tag them!)

HEADCANONS

• Stealing your boys’ clothes is by far the EASIEST thing anyone could do. The reason being? They quite literally never change out of the fits they’ve had on since 1987.

• The boys don’t have much of a scent, seeing as they’re all undead. So a washing machine doesn’t exist in their little world anymore. Which means they will now forever be outfit repeaters.

More fun for you.

• All of the boys have the most random shit scattered around the cave. They’re the worst hoarders you have ever encountered. Cough cough.. Paul.. cough cough..

• But the amount of clothes they have laying around is shocking. Boots, band tees, jackets, jeans, leather trousers, gloves, shirts, man you name it. They have it. Every fucking decade.

• The band tees are by far your favourite thing to run around with. Paul has a shit ton of Môtley Crüe tees, and Dwayne has so many shirts with The Doors on them. (Jim’s face is literally everywhere in the cave now. They sure as hell ain’t Christians, so if they’re selling their souls to anyone it’s the horned god below or their icon Jim Morrison.)

• They did let you away with wearing their old band tees until Marko told the boys about EBay.

When Paul found out a vintage Mötley Crüe tour shirt was going for over a grand, the mf was ecstatic..

So much so, he decided to put his own vintage Mötley tees up for bidding.

“Two thousand… three thousand.. FOUR THOUSAND… FIVE THOUSAND FUCKING DOLLARS!!!”

Poor Paul’s bubble was burst however when David told him there was absolutely nothing they could do with the money aside from unlimited Chinese food for the next few months.

• David’s old clothes are much different from what the others have. He was the first to be turned, therefore he’s lived throughout the most eras.

• He’s got a LOT of leather jackets and trenchcoats. Paul and Marko always joke about him being Jack the Ripper, but you see a different side to his style. There’s been many nights you actually sat down with him and asked where he’d gotten the majority of his old items. Some were by Spanish designers that had been gifts from Max whenever he’d provided David with different clothing, others were from when David had fed off multiple store owners and casually picked out what he fancied afterwards.

• It saddens you that he doesn’t wear any of these anymore. The only reminder he ever gets of them is when you put on the soft wool Trenchcoats that go right down to your ankles, almost looking like a cape. Marko makes mini conspiracy theories that maybe you’re the real Dracula.

• Dwayne’s load of clothes is FILLED with leopard print designs. He’s been a 70s boy even all these years later, and he misses that era so dearly.

• There’s this one satin leopard print shirt that actually fits you quite well in his eyes. It’s still a little baggy.. yet oddly attractive to him. You’ve claimed it as your own now, wearing it like a pj set.

• Aside from the satin shirt, literally nothing else Dwayne has fits you. He’s a muscular guy.. and a vampire. So trying to get his baggy ass clothes to even have a slight loose fit is not for the weak 😭

• Marko however, this is where the real fun begins. You can borrow anything from Marko.. ANYTHING.. and it’s guaranteed to fit.

• He was a big crop top collector. When he used to find a good shirt that wasn’t cropped however, he’d cut it up and make it into a crop top himself. And these are what he adores you wearing. They cling nicely to your curved body, and whenever you wear them you can never get both Paul and Marko to stop staring at your breasts. Assholes.

• Marko’s clothes are by far your favourite pieces out all the boys. Much like the crop tops, he really enjoyed designing all his other outfits when he wore them. And he was pretty damn good at it too. Marko can be a crafty little thing when he wants to be. He’ll even help you design your own outfits too! He’ll cut, sew, stitch, glue, draw, paint, anything you want Marko to design, he’s down. He took so much pride in his unique outfits back in the day. And if you want yours spiced up, Marko’s your man.

• You wear his old belts a lot. One time, you were rummaging through the boys’ old stuff again, and immediately fell in love with this black latex belt Marko had. He’d drawn on perfectly shaped skulls with a white acrylic pen, and added different studs around the buckle. Ever since that day, Marko pretty much customises everything you own now.

FIRST TIME WRITING FOR THE LOST BOYS!! hope you all enjoyed these headcanons and my requests are open for any lost boys related ideas you may have!! <33

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sigilsmut · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 - 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

Damn my ass did not make it in time again. Am I still gonna post it? Sure why not.

This goes out to @sanjisblackasswife as a small present. I hope this is ok Timi 😭 🖤 Happy (belated) birthday

CW: established relationship, cunnilingus, vaginal penetration, lingerie, a few petnames, Sanji being a pervert per usual, just plain nastiness

“How are you fairing, mon cher? Are you still with me?” Sanji’s muffled voice asks you as if he hadn’t snatched three orgasms from you in the past 2 hours.

As expected, you couldn’t form a proper sentence, your mind as hazy as your watery vision. He was three fingers deep into your pussy while his other hand kept a vice grip on your body. That didn’t stop it from squirming as much as it could, however. A string of moans blessed his ears like the sweetest melody. Smooth, creamy legs spasming around his dizzy head.

The blonde had surprised you with a heartful breakfast earlier, slaving over the stove at the ass crack of dawn to make sure your birthday started off on the right foot. When you expressed concern over how tired he’d be, he simply brushed it off, reassuring you that ‘it’s what my goddess deserves’.

Of course, a banquet was also held for your special day. It was filled with numerous activities, rounds of bubbly drinks, and little heartwarming speeches of how each Straw Hat (in their own quirky way) was grateful to have you in their lives. And you were just as grateful to have them in yours.

But what kickstarted the moment between you two was towards the end of the night, where Sanji had walked in on you changing. By accident? On purpose? Who fucking knows. If his flushed cheeks, slick grin, and nose running of blood was anything to go off of, he didn’t feel any remorse seeing you in your scantily clad lingerie.

A baby blue set, complete with white garters and a pair of blue satin panties. All in his favorite color. You went on a birthday shopping spree with Nami earlier and the set caught your eye. Thinking it’d be cute for you and your boyfriend, you immediately put it on after purchase. It was apparent now that it was a good choice to make.

After locking the door behind him, his long legs carried him to where you stood near the bed. He gently set his hands on your waist, and after giving him the go-ahead, it was downhill from there.

Hands groping and tracing over areas where his lips followed close behind, no part of your sun-kissed bronze skin was left unmarked. The stubble on his chin tickling your belly and inner thighs as he went along. It’s what led to now, with three of his fingers curling into you and his tongue tracing circles around your clit. The sheets became stained with the mixture of your juices and his saliva, but neither of you seemed to care. The bed shook from how aggressively he humped into the mattress, rolling his hips and dragging his hard on against the sheets. The friction made a delicious burn grow against the tip of his cock, and a groan bellowed from his chest.

“Lemme have another one, Y/N-swan...” He mumbled. He took your clit into his mouth and hummed, picking up the pace with his fingers. Your back arched off the bed, screaming into the darkness of the spare bedroom as you gushed into his mouth. He lapped up everything you gave him and only eased off of you once your fingers pushed his head away.

“You taste absolutely divine, darling, like the sweetest nectar I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting. I can never get enough of eating you out.” He heartfully grins like the nasty pervert he is.

Finally he sits up and strips himself of his boxers, groaning as his cock sprang free and slapped against his abdomen. In your stupor, you drooled at the sight and weakly reached forward to dab at his tip. He shudders.

“Such a pretty dick, ‘Ji...” you sweetly murmured. You swear you’ve never seen a man move so fast.

You blinked and he was hovering over you. Your body quivered as you realized that he was already pushing inside you, eager to bring you back to cloud nine with him this time. As his pelvis kissed yours, so did your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head as you tasted yourself. The bedframe slammed into the wall as his lithe hips snapped into yours. Your eyes widened, balling the sheets into your fists as you held on for dear life. Sanji gazed down at you in astonishment.

From his perspective, the moon was absolutely gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as you. Sanji thought he might cry, still in disbelief that he got to have and pleasure someone as beautiful as you. Your watery brown eyes looking up at him with so much love, your locs sprawled out all over the pillows and yet framed your face perfectly. Your puffy lips in an ‘O’ shape, crying out from his purposeful thrusts. Your brown skin seemed to be glowing with how the moon shone on you. In his eyes, your beauty outshone all the stars in the sky, your angelic voice reaching the Heavens at this point.

It’s almost as if that was his goal with how fast he was going.

His slender hands lifted your lower body, wrapping your smooth legs around his waist to push himself in deeper. The blonde craned his head back and moaned, feeling your velvety walls clamp around his cock in a vice grip. His breath hitched, slamming his hips into you even harder and rolling his mushroom head into that one spot that made your toes curl. The bed creaked and croaked underneath the two of you, and it was absolutely certain that Nami would give you shit for how loud you’re being.

“Gimme another one, cherie, pretty please..” He weakly begged of you. His fingers rubbed over your clit rapidly and you groaned, the amount of pleasure overwhelming you. Your whole body shook as a silent moan escaped. Your walls squeezed again and the tension in your belly released. “S-Sanji-!”

“That’s it, princess. Let go for me” he encouraged you. He mewled as you reached your high for seemingly the fifth time tonight, your juices gushing all over his pelvis and all over your thighs. His curly brows scrunched together and tears began to swell in his eyes, groaning as he filled your walls with his warm, sticky load. You have never felt fuller than this moment.

His body curled over you, his hot labored breath in your ear. He turned to you, moving a loc out of his way to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “Happy birthday, my sweet Y/N.”

“Thank you Sanji.” You smiled lovingly and he returned your expression. Once you calmed your breathing, you reached your hand up to caress his cheek. Sanji was eager to lean into your touch, swooning at how adorable you looked in your after-coitus glow. Suddenly his eyes widened in realization. “I almost forgot.”

He then reached over and took your panties in his grasp, stuffing them in the deep recesses of his pants pocket. You furrowed your brows at his actions, even though you knew good and well what the reason was.

“For safe keeping.” He grinned. He was gonna keep the pair as a reminder of tonight.

“You play too damn much!” You laughed, lightly smacking his shoulder. He laughed with you, stretching back on the bed and collecting you in his arms. Peppering your face in little kisses, he looked up at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Would you like to go again? You’re welcome to ride me if you want, you are the birthday girl after all.”

#sanji x reader #sanji x black reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut #sanji x reader smut #pure nastiness #i hope this was toe-curling enough for you #.romanticism

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egcdeath · 5 months ago

Text

going the extra mile

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

summary: patrick takes care of you after a rough day at work.

word count: 2k

warnings: domesticity, established relationship tooth rotting fluff, so much fluff you might have to visit your dentist, brief mention of alcohol, eating, baths, mentions of sex but no explicit scenes, so sappy, very lightly edited

author’s note: this fic is part of my succession au (previous part here) but you don’t need to read it to read this! all you need to know is that patrick and reader are engaged.

“Honey, I’m home!” you called out as you stepped through the door of your shared apartment, voice a little flat from an exhausting day.

What began as a joke after you first moved in with Patrick quickly began a critical part of your evening routine, where whoever got home from work later called the cheesy phrase out to the other person, then was excitedly greeted at the door. It was a cute routine and something for you to look forward to after a long day at work—much like the one you just experienced.

Just as you predicted, Patrick appeared at your door shortly after you announced your arrival, beating your equally excited cat by just a few seconds.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted you warmly before entering your space to give you a quick forehead kiss. “How was your day?”

“Stressful,” you huffed, allowing Patrick to take your work bag and hang it up for you. You squatted down to pet your cat, who was now enthusiastically rubbing her chin on your shin.

“I figured it would be. I know big presentations aren’t your favorite,” he acknowledged, ruffling your hair from where you were petting your cat. “So I picked up a bunch of food from that Italian place you like. Want to change into something comfortable then eat?”

“Oh Patrick,” you sighed in relief, looking up at him with love in your eyes. A huge feast was exactly what you needed after such a rough day. “You might be the best fiancé ever.”

As promised, when you returned to the kitchen after putting on a satin pajama set—one that Patrick randomly gifted you early on in your relationship—a variety of takeout boxes sat on the counter from one of your favorite restaurants. You didn’t even think that they did take out, but Patrick must’ve convinced them somehow. Knowing that he would go out of his way to do something like that for you made you want to grab and kiss him.

You grabbed what you wanted then sat down on your couch, not even bothering to care about marinara stains that might end up on the very expensive piece of furniture. At that point, your comfort mattered more than any material items—a sentiment that you were sure that Patrick would agree with.

Your fiancé joined you not too long after you sat down, bringing you an offer of focaccia and a glass of wine.

“You know me so well,” you practically purred, a soft smile on your lips as you gladly took the glass of wine from him.

Patrick smiled back at you in response, not outwardly acknowledging your praise, but the light dusting of pink on his cheeks letting you know that he appreciated it anyway. You always loved seeing the effects your compliments had on him, even if he didn’t immediately speak his mind.

“Do you want to watch a movie? Want a foot massage?” he offered, remote to the television already in one hand. It was sweet how he seemed to be going down a checklist of all of the things he knew you liked after a long, stressful day.

“I think I just want to enjoy your company for now. Maybe an early debrief? Tell me about your day?” you suggested, setting down your glass of wine to take a bite of the food on your plate.

“My day was pretty boring, to be honest,” he sighed. “We did some run-throughs of Glenn’s speech, then went back to the office and got some boring work done that you don’t want to hear about.”

“Maybe I do wanna hear about it,” you challenged, sitting up slightly straighter to indicate your interest. “Or maybe I just want to hear you talk a little more?” you added, figuring that it would be better to be honest.

Information about the campaign Patrick was working on would probably go in one ear and out the other, but his voice was always a comforting, grounding thing for you. After having such a busy, stressful day, you couldn’t think of a single better way to unwind than to hear Patrick talk endlessly to you.

Being the supportive fiancé that he was, Patrick did exactly that, telling you about all of the ins and outs of his day until you finished eating and drinking and were halfway into a food coma.

Sensing your sleepiness, Patrick paused in his storytelling. “I was gonna run a bath for you, but I wanted to wait so it didn’t get too cold while we ate. What do you think?”

“I think I want to marry you right now,” you gushed, thrilled at the prospect of a warm bath to help you fully unwind from the day.

As promised, Patrick set up a bath for you, complete with a candle-lit room and the soothing aroma of a bath bomb. You sat in a fuzzy robe and watched from your bedroom as Patrick set up the bath for you, flattered by his commitment to giving you a relaxing evening.

After he was satisfied with the bath he put together for you, Patrick retrieved you from your bedroom and led you to the tub, as if you didn’t already know where it was.

“Just yell for me if you need anything,” Patrick told you, letting go of the hand that he was holding.

“What if I need something now?” you questioned as you shed your robe and stepped into the warm, soothing water of the bath.

“What do you need?” he asked curiously, already preparing to get whatever it was that you wanted.

“Well, I don’t need it, but it would be nice if you joined me. If you want to,” you added shyly, still worried about accommodating your partner years into your relationship. Patrick wasn’t always in the mood to do super romantic things, but after giving you such a nice night, it seemed far more likely that he would accept your offer.

Your request was received even better than you expected, with Patrick making quick work of stripping and getting into the tub behind you, before letting you recline against his chest comfortably.

The two of you sat in the tub for a long time, occasionally talking about whatever came to mind, but mostly unwinding in silence and sharing the intimacy of having skin-on-skin contact.

Once again, you were sure that you could fall asleep right then and there, relaxed by a tiring trifecta of your dinner, the warm bath, and your fiancé’s comforting presence.

“I never wanna get out,” you sighed contently, turning your head to dreamily look at your partner.

“I don’t either, but I’m starting to worry that if I stay any longer, my skin’s gonna start falling off,” he showed you his pruning fingers to prove his point.

“Ew,” you said simply, that being all you needed to hear to get you out. Besides, the water had gone cold a long time ago, and you were itching to lay in bed.

“I want to get out, but I don’t think any of my muscles work anymore,” you explained as you watched Patrick wrap a towel around his waist after stepping out of the tub.

“Is this your way of asking me to carry you to bed?” he asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Depends. Are you offering?” you fluttered your eyelashes at Patrick as if that would somehow sweeten the deal.

Patrick gave you a wordless grin, one that told you that you were about to get exactly what you wanted. He helped you out of the tub and carried you to bed as he promised, before setting you down and tossing some pajamas at you.

After he cleaned up the bathroom, Patrick joined you in bed, where you were chewing on your bottom lip as you answered a few work emails.

“Put that away,” Patrick gently chided you, shutting your laptop for you. “They can have you tomorrow. Let me have you for now?”

You couldn’t argue with that logic, not protesting when Patrick took your computer and set it on the nightstand on his side of the bed. Though you really would like to get more work done, your partner was accurate in his assessment that nothing would change if you answered that night rather than in the morning, other than your peace of mind.

Once your laptop was out of the way, Patrick wasted no time pulling you in for a passionate kiss, which felt like the perfect way for you to end your night. As his hands eagerly roamed your body, you thought about how this was something that you both earned, with Patrick treating you to such a lovely evening, and you needing this one final action to complete your night of relaxation.

Just as Patrick found his way between your thighs, your heated moment was interrupted by the dejected sounding meows of your cat at the door, wanting to be let into the room. Both of you groaned, knowing that if you didn’t address the angry furball waiting for you, you really wouldn’t be able to enjoy your night.

“We’ll pick this back up in the morning,” he promised you as he got out of bed.

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” you laughed, sitting up and pulling your discarded nightgown back on while you watched Patrick open the door for your pet. Predictable as ever, she jumped into your bed and sat down where she always liked to sit between you and your fiancé.

“This has to be the most spoiled cat in all of human history,” Patrick commented as he sat back down next to the two of you in bed.

“Whose fault is that?” you teased as you pet the purring feline. Though he would never admit it, Patrick somehow loved your pet even more than you did. You often found him holding and cooing at the cat, or doing research on new toys and puzzles to enrich her.

“We share responsibility for it,” he dismissed, causing you to giggle.

“Sure,” you replied, not even bothering to hide the incredulity in your voice.

As the two of you sat in bed, you settled into your typical evening routine, with Patrick reading a book beside you and you catching up with your friends over text.

Out of the blue, your partner spoke up, grabbing your attention. “You still haven’t told me about how the presentation went.”

You groaned aloud and turned to look at your fiancé, reading glasses perched on his nose and an open book laid on his chest. His beauty, even in a moment of not being all put-together, felt like it should be a crime.

“It wasn’t my best work,” you confessed. “It was kinda my fault. I’ve been so preoccupied with all the wedding stuff, that I basically just let Art throw together the presentation. I just felt so unprepared, but it’s fine, I guess.”

“I’m sure you did better than you think you did,” he assured you. “And if you didn’t, that’s also fine. It’s over, and I don’t think anyone’s gonna remember that you were a little unprepared.”

Though you’d reassured yourself with similar words, it was nice to hear it coming from your partner.

“You’re right. Presentation aside, thank you for making me forget about the real world and all of my problems for a little while,” you leaned over and kissed his cheek, and felt your cheeks warm as Patrick followed up your kiss on the cheek with a real kiss. It amazed you how even after years of being together, he was still able to give you butterflies.

“That was the goal,” he was obviously happy to see that this evening of sweet actions had the intended outcome, based on the wide smile on his face.

You bit your tongue to hold back a sappy love confession, knowing that Patrick surely wasn’t in the mood to return you one, but you couldn’t think of anything else more obvious than the mutual love you felt sitting in that bed, thoroughly pampered after a rough day.

As you laid there next to your grinning fiancé, you couldn’t help but wish that your wedding would come even sooner, so you could look forward to endless nights of domestic bliss.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #reader insert #challengers #josh o'connor x reader #patrick zweig smut

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hellishjoel · 7 months ago

Text

red

1.3k / pairing: javier peña x f!reader

main masterlist | notifications blog

summary: Javier Peña doesn't love in black and white - he loves in red. warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), allusions to some smutty vibes but no smut, javi in love, reader is described having hair and wears a dress and heels, but otherwise (I believe) no physical description, no use of y/n A/N: this is for the lovely @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! congratulations baby <3 this is an ode to you! I was dutifully given the prompt of forehead kisses - and if anyone gives good forehead kisses (see example above) it's obviously javi. lastly thank you @saradika-graphics for the banner!

You’ve got your red dress on tonight.

The one that paints your body in confidence and allure. Dusted in a silky, satin red.

Javi’s never had a favorite color until now.

Your mere presence demands attention and captures the longing gazes of all who inhabit the room you grace with your stride. You dazzle, you shine, and you’re self-assured.

Your anniversary falls on a rainy night in Bogotá. Thunder claps outside, echoing each step he takes up your apartment stairwell. He brings red roses, a fresh bouquet to honor the importance today holds.

One year. That’s four seasons of love that Javier has never felt before.

He wraps his rough knuckles against your door and listens patiently to your delicate steps on the other side.

“Oh, Javi,” you breathe with a pearly smile, “they’re beautiful.” You thank him with a kiss on his stubbled cheek and he squeezes your hip in return, feeling the soft satin of your dress dancing beneath his fingertips.

That fucking red dress.

It transports him to a warm summer night, where the sun blazed an orange-yellow hue across the horizon. Ice-cold drinks giving him the courage to ask you for a dance. Your perfume, that smile, those eyes. Dancing in close proximity, your bodies dripping in sweat as Javi took the lead, your heels clicking across the old wood floors of the cantina. But that was many moons ago. The first dress he ever saw you in, still his favorite.

“Anything for you, hermosa.”

And he knows you by now. Knows to make a late dinner reservation to allow you extra time to get ready. It’s a process, you’ve told him. He sits at the edge of your bed and watches you in silent admiration.

Your bedroom is cloaked in darkness, the only illumination coming from the candlesticks, their gentle orange flames flickering in the breeze wafting through the open balcony doors. Outside, raindrops perform a delicate dance on the metal roof, creating a mesmerizing symphony of tinny notes.

Like an angel, you float across the room. Where are your wings? Where is your halo? Maybe left long ago in that cantina where you traded them for Javi. But you’re still an angel in his eyes, the most beautiful goddess he’s ever seen, the woman he praises day and especially night. In the lap of his lover, he is never alone.

He notes how articulately you pick your accessories, bringing earrings up to your lobe and seeing how they complement the look. Maybe a necklace—no, the bracelet he bought you a few months back. He smirks at the sight, and you catch his gaze in the vanity mirror.

Javi wonders why he showers you with gifts - maybe a hint of possession, more so that he thinks you deserve the finer things he can offer you. And you’ve always been so gracious and excited with every gift wrap you delicately tear or ribbon you untie. Money doesn’t matter compared to that million-dollar smile.

“Javi, pick my perfume for me, will you?”

And now, getting ready becomes a two-person job. But he likes this part; he likes dressing you up, picking your lingerie in the shops, and choosing which heels you wear. There's an undeniable allure in your reliance on him, allowing him to fulfill the role of being essential in your life. Needed.

He chooses a sweet-scented perfume—not blossomy, more like vanilla and cinnamon—sweet enough to fit your personality, thick enough to make him drunk on you. With his eyes closed and lost in a room full of people, he could find you. And he would.

“Heels?” He offers, already opening your closet and staring at the different colored stilettos and slingbacks.

“Yes, please, baby.” You coo, delighting in his attentive presence as the melody of your perfume fills the air, each spritz a tender caress upon your neck, shoulders, and a playful touch in your tousled hair.

He bends down to one knee and guides your hand on his shoulder.

You hum sweetly, nails grazing the back of his neck and gently scratching the base of his scalp. His jet-black hair is soft and thick, weaving perfectly between your fingers.

He wasn’t always like this, so warm. He was all the things he wanted to appear as, strong and confident. But that was all an exterior façade, one that took months to slowly chip away at like a chisel to marble.

A boulder was in place of his heart, only growing larger and harder with trauma. Each painful memory, each betrayal and loss added another layer to the stone, making it more impenetrable and cold. Eventually, the weight of it threatened to crush his spirit entirely, leaving him numb and distant from the world around him.

But then you came along, chipping away at the hardened exterior with your warmth and kindness. Your presence began to erode the layers of pain and sorrow, softening the edges of the boulder. Slowly, bit by bit, you managed to reach the core of his heart, bringing light and hope where there had once been only darkness.

Javier Peña had fallen in love.

“You’re so handsome, Javi,” you praise, “I love you.” The sentiment never grows old. You feel Javi’s head move in and gently place a kiss on the inside of your thigh, just below the hem of your dress. Goosebumps quickly sprinkle across your skin. He always has such an effect on you.

“Estoy enloquecido por ti,” Javi purrs as he lifts your ankle and slips the heel onto your foot, careful fingers buckling the strap around your ankle. You point your toes admiringly, allowing him to work on the next heel.

As he stands, his fingers skim up your sides and his height looms over you. His cologne melts your inhibitions, forcing a subtle sigh from cherry-lacquered lips.

His forehead rests against yours, letting the magnetic charge between you both finally reach its peak. His nose brushes against your own, mascaraed lashes fluttering closed.

Just as Javi moves in to place a kiss on your lips, you’re quick to gently rest a hand against his chest. The moment pauses and your eyes dance.

“I just put my lipstick on,” You whisper and softly giggle.

Javi breaks into a small smirk. His woman has priorities.

The lipstick is a fantastic red, soft, and a little dangerous. It's subtle, but also not subtle at all. Like the color was made for you, a perfect shade that heightens your beauty and charisma. You’re an artist, the way you perfectly glide the lipstick across your pillow-soft lips; not a smudge or mistake is made.

“You’re right, mi querido.” Javier reroutes his path, closes his eyes, and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. The subtle gesture is just as good as a kiss to the lips, maybe even better. It wraps around you like a warm hug and it stays there long after he’s gone. Your insides dance with a delightful flutter, a warmth cascading down your spine, enveloping you in a sensation akin to heaven itself.

You nuzzle your nose against his own and sigh peacefully, feeling Javier’s arms tighten around your waist.

“Do you like my dress, Javi?”

He playfully hums as his fingers teasingly graze the fabric, gently squeezing the globes of your ass beneath it.

“Love it,” he damn near growls.

You swiftly swat his wandering hands away, sensing his desire to tug at the material. If you stay in your bedroom any longer, you fear you’ll miss the standing dinner reservation you’ve had for well over a week.

You reward him with a kiss on his neck and you distantly taste his aftershave.

Javi adores the beautiful mark you leave on his neck, a lingering stain that refuses to be simply wiped away with a napkin and water. It remains a constant reminder of you until he showers, and he thinks about you all over again. You’re forever there, forever his.

He stares at your figures in the mirror, wrapped up in one another.

One kiss on his tan skin, and he’s no longer Javier Peña. He’s yours.

Yours in red.

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n3ptoonz · 6 months ago

Note

Love your work babe!

Figured I send some ideas over!

Asking johnny to fuck you from behind for the first time, like being nervous and asking him to bend you over and take you how he wants!

puts on sunglasses and flashes smile thank you, thank you very much

'Suga Baby'

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Johnny Cage/F!Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: Smut; Explicit, mirror sex, creampie/breeding kink, use of "princess" "baby girl" "good girl" "doll" and "baby", scent kink if you squint, prob my first time ever using the word 'pussy' in a fic, reader a lil shy, COCKY JOHNNY CAGE, doggy style/backshots, the only "she" used here is in reference to reader's vag LMAOO, dirty talk, sorry for any typos or unedited indicators

shoutout @igotcaged for the sugar daddy idea 😝 thought i'd double it 😼

Word count: 1.4k

what i was envisioning while writing 🫦:

Finally, some down time with your favorite man ever: Johnny Cage. AKA your sugar daddy of 7 months now. Who would've thought your days as a waitress would be cut so short when one of your favorite actors dropped in after winning a few big awards? He did. It had been his mission ever since his divorce to make the hottest woman he could find his sugar baby. He fucking loved spoiling people, so why not include you?

Truth be told it was no bother that he would do what he wants for however long since you would still get a weekly allowance. Though...you did want to celebrate his latest self-directed film "Mortal Kombat", which by the way, smash hit, winning Movie of the Year with him. In the 7 months of living with him in his mansion, you two only ever got to be intimate like twice. He was always busy with production, meet and greets, script writing, and protecting Earthrealm. He barely had time to wink at himself and pose in the mirror!

So tonight he comes home, a little tipsy he'll admit, but aware enough since he's not drunk. He was about to start rambling about a myriad of things when he was stopped in his tracks by the beautiful sight of you leaning against the back of the couch in his Versace robe and the lingerie he bought you for your birthday--how convenient that it matched what he was wearing tonight at the awards. He could smell a bit of the perfume you liked to wear lingering around the living room mixing with the faint smell of his favorite cologne on the robe too.

It was...intoxicating.

"Somebody was eager for me to come home..." he teased, slowly walking up to you and wrapping his arms around you. "You never told me there was another after party."

You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck. Bringing up one of your hands you pulled his face closer so you could look him in the eyes. "Well, that would've ruined the surprise now wouldn't it?" you replied. Next thing you know you could feel him pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, palm over your ass and all. His sudden determination had you giggling and smiling.

He moved with vigor and intent to his massive bedroom in hopes you also were just as eager to fuck him like he was with you. The way your breasts sat to the way your thighs made the fabric of the garters stretch just a tad brought all together with that perfume...you'd think he was a starving lion released from its cage (no pun intended).

Your back gently hit the cool satin linens of his king sized bed. The mixing temperatures of that with his hot kisses all over your jaw already had your vision fuzzy. You gasped and bit your lip so you wouldn't be so loud as he just got started, but him realizing that only gassed him up more.

"Johnny..." you softly whined in his ear. Your nails were subconsciously dragging against his prized biceps as the thought had crept into your head. You wanted back shots. Though the nervousness started to appear since again, you've only gotten intimate twice, and both times were nearly rushed in a semi public setting for the fun of risk--and one of those times was you giving him some bomb ass head.

This time you needed him to bend you over and do with you what he wanted to. Especially now that you two have all the time in the world.

Johnny lifted his head to see the slight plea in your eyes, wondering what's going on behind those eyes. He grabbed your waist and pulled you into his lap. "Don't be shy, princess, tell me what's on your mind." he said, dragging his surprisingly soft fingers gently up and down your torso and eventually gripping your ass--he's obsessed with how the fabric feels, especially with you wearing it.

His gaze from under you was making you even more nervous. You really didn't expect to be so close with him, let alone be sitting in his lap and telling him what you want. Besides money, of course.

"Do you think you could...fuck me from behind this time?" you said. You tried to mask most of your nerves by leaning down towards him, the bra part of your lingerie nearly giving out over his face, and grinding your hips down onto his growing if not full erection. "And no, the quickie at that party two weeks ago doesn't count. I want you to-"

"-'fuck you like I own you', was it? To bend you over in front of this mirror and watch your eyes roll back from how fuckin' hot you look taking all of me? Aw, you're so good for me, doll."

Johnny was no poser. For the most part, what you see is what you get. In this context, he has every right to channel this side of him. There you were on your hands and knees on the bed, barely being able to focus on how either of you look as he shamelessly watched your back arch so he could keep hitting that same angle that made you see stars.

You loudly moaned and bit your lip again. It was drawn out and matched his pace with every thrust that connected. He fell in love with the growing sound of your pussy getting louder with every pump. Your slick was running down your thighs the wetter you got and Johnny was just silently thanking the elder gods above only he got to see such a view. He was just getting turned on more by the second since he could also get a look at himself and you in the mirror.

"Shit, have I kept you waiting too long? I'm sorry, baby girl. I wish you would've told me she was begging for me." he said. The "she" in question being exactly what you thought it was. "Look at that...she was made for me." he continued. He gestured to the feeling of you clenching around him in response to his dirty talk. It really has felt like it's been too long, but he was surely making up for it.

"Harder...slower...please..." you groaned out. You so badly wanted to get the most out of this as much as you could. He let go of your hair and placed his hands on your hips, stilling his movements without pulling out. He leaned down next to your ear and said,

"Whatever you want, baby."

And from there, you could feel him in your stomach. He made sure to keep pulling back and pushing forward hit that spot he knew could get you to be more vocal. So far you were mostly just whines and soft moans of approval, but damn it he fucking loved how you sounded when you weren't able to contain yourself.

"I know, babe, I know it's big." he muttered, but loud enough for you to be able to make out his words. "But I know you can take it. Be a good- agh" he inhaled sharply in between sentences. "-girl for me- ...yeah? Fuck..."

He silently cursed to himself as he could feel himself about to cum. You had such an effect on him already, but the tears and sweat making you shine had him ready to be a damn father. And honestly in this moment in time, he wouldn't even mind.

You buried your face into the mattress the closer you got to cumming. He could overhear you say you were about to even if your words were slurred and muffled. His grip around your hips got tighter as he picked up the pace again, begging you to let him cum inside. All you could get out was a loud muffled array of whines in agreement. You both needed this carnally, and he was in no opposition to it.

As he shot his thick warm seed against your walls, it didn't take long for it to start spilling out onto the back of your thighs. You came right after him and loudly moaned to your heart's content. Hands gripping the sheets and tears rolling freely down your face. It took him a bit before he stilled his moments because he couldn't stop getting turned on. Your muffled screams of pleasure were music to his ears.

He pulled out and watched it drip out of you and let me tell you, nobody has ever seen him grin wider in his life. You sat up as you tried to calmed down, watching yourself pant and tiredly smile in the mirror. He leaned down and kissed your neck a few times while wrapping his arms around your waist before muttering with a smirk,

"I hope it's a girl."

#n3ptoonz #mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage #mk smut

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sink-me-in-your-ocean · 1 year ago

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Careful What You Wish For

Sodo/Dewdrop Ghoul x fem!Reader Smut

W/C: 3560

A/N: Never been more mesmerized in my life then when I went to my first ritual... Unashamedly staring at this fucking ghoul all night. Thank you @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus for reading this first 💕

Content warnings: sodomy (obviously, which ghoul do you think this is?) m!receiving (oral), fingering, P in V sex, shame/embarrassment, voyeurism. Minors DNI.

“Straight through there, sister, you can’t miss it.” You received an unceremonious shove from Sister Adelaide. After catching yourself on the railing you continued down the curving stone stairwell alone. Your footsteps scuffed along the ice cold, ancient grey stone.

It was freezing in the basement of the ministry, and you wished silently that the good Sister had allowed you to dress properly before she dragged you out of your shared bedroom. All you wore was a black night slip, and though it easily reached to your knees, its lace and satin offered no solace from the nipping, stale air. With no relief from the cold, all you prayed for was that you wouldn’t run into anyone down here.

Finally, you reached the base of the stairs. A single black candle glowed from its head-level position on the wall. You squinted at it, considering it an omen, telling you not to go further. You peered out into the distance, feeling lost already. You can’t miss it my ass. You made a mental note to “thank” the Sister later for her astute direction.

Suddenly, the first long corridor was lit instantaneously by a long trail of wall-mounted candelabras. It provided the only light source as you tiptoed along. The soft, yellow light carried you forth to meet a wooden door. You pushed it open with ease and were met with black darker than night.

You stumble blindly forward through a series of black velvet curtains. Once you step through the first one, your heart kicks up in rhythm, the light seemingly sucked out of the hallway behind you and the door falling closed on its hinges with a creak.

You take three more less-than-graceful steps and shove through one final curtain to find yourself in a dark room, lit by dim blue ambient light. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust, and you take a quick stock of your surroundings: a dark chaise lounge, in what color you couldn’t identify, a dark multi-patterned rug on the floor, and in the corner at an angle facing you, a large armchair. You sucked in a breath quickly. The armchair had an occupant.

Is that…

Your thought was interrupted swiftly as the ghoul in the chair adjusted his posture, spreading his legs in a wide, almost lazy, “v” shape. The only sounds in the room were the distant hymnal voices in practice above ground, and the thrumming beat of your own heart. Your pulse pounded in your ears. You felt your hands become clammy.

You studied the ghoul as your eyes continued to adjust to the dark room. But you were torn: adrenaline begging through your veins for you to flee, and curiosity ever edging your instincts out of the picture.

As if sensing your thoughts, he moved again to stir your attention. His left elbow came to rest on the tuft of the chair, and he tilted his head as he rested it on his pale hand.

His hands.

You didn’t notice how his right hand had been sitting on his covered thigh, but now you couldn’t look away. His thumb was rubbing back and forth slowly, and even in the low light you recognized his tendons and veins as he flexed. You’d know those hands that belong to your favorite ghoul anywhere. His hands were imprinted on your mind like an unholy relic.

“Sodo.” Your voice was hardly audible, a mere breath coasting over your realization.

The fire ghoul said nothing, instead shifting from the disinterested position he was in to a commanding one, sitting straight backed against the chair. Your eyes found themselves watching his right hand again, as he slowly moved it from his thigh to be outstretched. He made a come here motion using two long fingers. Slowly, sensually beckoning you forth.

Your mouth went dry as the dirty thoughts regarding his fingers snaked their way up from your loins to leech into your brain. You obeyed. It wasn’t like you to disobey any member of the clergy. Especially not a member of the clergy who you’ve got it so bad for.

You timidly close the gap between you two. No words are needed in the exchange, but you size him up anyway. Sodo wears his mask, and he is covered from head to toe in his black uniform, the only exception of exposure being his perfect hands.

He pointed to the cushion at his feet and you kneel in submission. A perfectly obedient daughter of the ministry following the clergy.

“Wha -”

Where your question was going, you forgot immediately, as an old television screen turned on to the right of you. You jumped at the sudden addition of light and crackling sound, shrinking back in temporary trepidation.

How strange.

It was a video monitoring of what looked to be the inside of the dark wooden confession box.

Wait. Something’s -

The metal and heavy cloth sounds of the curtain moving made your stomach drop. You watched in horror as you, well, past you, entered the confession booth and sat down.

You heard the unmistakable words of Papa Emeritus IV. “My child, what makes you appear at such an hour? Have you come to confess what plagues your mind and body?”

“I have. It has been one week since my last confession.”

You knew what was coming next.

“Come, my child, speak what unsettles you, let it weigh on your heart no longer.”

Utterly embarrassed, you tilted your head down to hide your shame at the impending admission coming from your past self. But then, you felt a strong, cold hand grip your jaw, forcing your face up to watch in horror, reliving the moment in confession you had after having one too many glasses of wine at dinner.

“Last night I pleasured myself with the sinful thoughts of a brother…”

“Dio miserabile young sister!”

You bit your lip, both in the camera footage and presently. You had forgotten how Papa Emeritus IV had reacted so outwardly to your admission of guilt. After a pause, he spoke again. “Sister?”

“Yes, Papa?”

“Tell me which one of our pious brothers has turned your thoughts in such a devious way.”

“Uh…” You trailed off, your voice in the recording was meek, you sounded so utterly pathetic.

“Sister? I could just guess if that would make it easier for you.”

You winced at how pitiful it was that he had to coax it out of you. You watched, willing your past self to keep her stupid mouth closed, but of course she didn’t.

“It was… brother Dewdrop.”

“I see.”

In the room you thought you heard Dewdrop make a noise deep in the back of his throat, like a groan. Your attention quickly went back to the video, eyes never leaving the screen as made possible by the ghouls grasp on your face. There was a long-lasting pause, one that made your stomach tighten with the knowledge of what you were about to admit in that wooden box.

“Describe it, my child, you’ll feel better once you get it out.”

In the video you sighed deeply before continuing, “In my thoughts he was fingering me, using two, then three fingers inside me to make me come. Then I got down on my knees for him and serviced his cock, taking it in my hands and mouth.”

You stopped breathing. The sound of your blood rushing in the pulse near your ears drowning out the words coming through the screen.

“Continue.” Came the deep, accented voice of the Papa.

“Then I imagined I was in his lap, and he let me use his cock for my own pleasure. I fucked myself on top of him. Forgive me, please forgive me, I beg of you.” The video cut then, leaving you reeling.

Speaking such depraved filth in confession was mortifying enough, but knowing the ghoul you were speaking about heard it too was devastating. You were frozen in place in embarrassment. At least, you would have stayed that way had you not noticed Sodo’s breathing changed.

He had gotten so close to your face while gripping your chin that you could hear his labored breathing. His breaths came in heavy pants from inside his mask, like a predatory animal behind a muzzle.

Part of you wanted to take off his mask, see his devilish eyes, sharp teeth, and his horns for yourself. To let him bite you, mark you, ravage your body with his tongue and teeth. But you knew he’d want to keep it on, and oh how you aimed to please him.

“Sodo?” Your voice was uncharacteristically quiet as you faced him. His grip did not loosen from your chin while allowing you to move, instead his index finger tapped your cheek in what seemed to be contemplation. What did he want to do with you now? Especially after seeing such a horrific display of lust on your part. You had sounded so desperate, so pitiful in confession. But if he gave you the chance, you’d show him how truly desperate you could be.

He released your jaw from his hard grasp, placing his hands on each of his tightly clothed thighs. You exhaled soundlessly through your parted lips as he cocked his head to the left side. He sat there silently waiting.

Your voice came out timid at first, “It’s true, all of it. Every second of that tape is the truth.” You then cocked your head to the right, mirroring him while still from your position sitting on the floor. You gained more confidence as you continued, “Though I’m guessing you know that. And you knew I’d come here.” Does that mean that he too - that he could possibly -

Your eyes widened as he tilted his head down towards his lap, then back up to you. Asking you to, what, sit on his lap?

Fuck waiting to decipher what he meant, you read deeply enough into his vague expression, and you would do anything to get what you wanted. You stood up quickly, his masked head snapping up to follow you intently. However, before you could crawl into his lap, he reached forward and grabbed your hips, spinning you in a half circle so your ass was facing him. He pulled you back to sit down.

You didn’t have time to react, let alone think before he hooked his ankles around the inside of yours, catching your legs with his respectively. Then, he spread your legs wide, earning a sharp inhale of surprise from you as the slip you wore parted salaciously.

He put his fingers over your mouth and you licked them without thinking. You could swear he made a low, dark sound from behind you. Then he took those fingers and dragged them down the front of your body, tracing down your black garb in identical fashion to his movements during a ritual. He paused right at the hem of your night dress, as it had ridden up. His middle finger hooked under it and pulled it upward, exposing your most upper thighs and your lace black panties.

As his hand moved to cup you through your panties, you shifted your hips back to be more comfortable. You felt his hardness against your rear and felt yourself involuntarily clench around nothing. Fuck.

You couldn’t help but grind your ass back against him, feeling his hardening cock against you was something you thought you would only ever get to dream of. You just hoped he was enjoying your body as much as you were enjoying his.

He hooked a finger in your panties, pulling and then snapping them back to get your full attention back on what he was doing to you. You gasped at the momentary sharp sting. Satisfied by startling you, he traced the seam of your underwear once more, before dipping a callused finger inside and brushing along your slit.

You watched him pull his finger away, coated in your arousal, before going back to your heat and ripping your panties off of you, tossing them to the floor. He put his index and middle finger together and repeated the action of touching you. Sodo dragged his rough fingers through your folds and up to your clit. A whine escaped your lips, and his left hand grabbed your chest and pulled you back so you were resting completely against him. It led you to feel his arousal even better under your ass, and you swirl your hips twice to help spur him on.

Without warning, his two fingers plunged into your heat all the way to the third knuckle. You opened your mouth and nothing came out, only silence as you felt his fingers deep within your aching center. His thumb pressed down on your clit, providing the perfect addition of pressure.

His fingers felt as good as you dreamed they would be, so long, and hitting all the places inside you that were drawing you close to the edge already. He worked you in a steady rhythmic pattern, drawing his fingers in and out of you while circling your clit with his thumb. Just from this you knew your own fingers wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you again.

His left hand moved to your breast, cupping and then pressing his thumb to your already hardened nipple. You knew it was a combination of both the chill from the room and the heat of the moment that caused your nipples to ache against the fabric of your night dress. Sodo used his thumb to circle your nipple through your slip, a mirrored action to his right thumb on your most sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. Fuck.

Suddenly, you had a feeling of being watched. If there is a camera in the confession box then… maybe… You couldn’t finish the thought, if anything, it spurred you on further. Your head lolled back, resting on the ghouls' hard shoulder as you felt yourself reaching the peak. You had never come so fast before, and you tried to fight it off, but his fingers were like magic on you. He had changed his movements so that his long fingers curled perfectly within you. Each curl of his fingers had your breath hitching and your legs starting to shake. Sodo was a drug you didn’t know you needed and yet could never get enough of.

All the tension that had been building snapped and you came with a broken moan. His fingers never ceased their ministrations, only slowing to help you come down from your high. Soon you were squirming in his lap, the pressure of his calloused thumb on your clit almost painful now.

Your breath came in heavy shudders, your head still resting on his shoulder, “May I?” You circled your hips against his hardness again to punctuate the question. He made a low sound, moving his legs so they no longer held yours apart. You scooted down to the floor quickly, kneeling on the cushion before the ghoul. He wasted no time pulling his cock out for his black pants, stroking it roughly with his right hand twice before looking at you in expectation.

Your hands dragged up each of his thighs as you shifted forward. You made a silent vow as you rose up on your knees and lowered your mouth to taste him. If this is the penance that I will pay after confessing my lust, then I’ll be on my knees confessing every night.

You started at the hot tip, swirling your tongue around twice before placing your lips around him and sucking. It wasn’t enough, not for you, and certainly not for him. You grabbed him in your right hand and licked, your tongue wide and flat against the base of his shaft, all the way back up to the tip again before devouring him. Your mouth salivated profusely as you dipped your head down over and over and over again, massaging with your tongue and sucking expertly.

If your cunt wasn’t already wet from fucking his fingers, it would have been soaked just from this. Him allowing you to touch him, to pleasure him, was your salvation. You couldn’t get enough, high off his reactions to you as you changed pace. The way his breath shuddered, the sounds of his nails scratching on the armrests of the chair, it was all incentive for you to keep going and please him better than you had anyone before.

You dipped your head down again, going as deep as you could to take him all the way back in your throat. You breathed through your nose, ignoring your gag reflex, wanting only to pleasure Sodo.

You felt his bony fingers slide through your hair and you kept up your movements until he made a fist and yanked hard. Your lips fell from his cock with a soft pop. As your face moved back a strand of saliva connected your mouth to his erection. You looked up at his expressionless mask again.

His silence filled the room. And as he patted his thigh in indication for you to get on top of him, it felt like all of the air had been sucked from your chest. You trembled in your kneeling position on the floor, heart fluttering, and rose, not wanting to vex him by wasting precious time.

You climbed up into his lap like an obedient little pet. The aching within you came to a crescendo as you straddled him, holding onto his shoulders as you centered yourself. You looked into the eyes of the mask, seeing the empty void where his eyes would be. He nodded at you, giving you permission to do exactly as you fantasized about.

You gripped his cock, still wet with your saliva, and lined him up with your center. You dragged the tip of him through your sensitive folds, wanting to draw the moment out just a little more, before sinking down. Only the tip of his thick cock was inside you and already you felt yourself shivering. You steadied yourself again, grabbing his shoulders as you lowered yourself down agonizingly slow. Taking him for this first time had your cunt burning from the stretch to fit him inside you.

His cock was long and thick, but you were determined. Inch after inch you sunk down, and once you finally bottomed out, you didn’t miss how his nails scratched the arms of the chair. His head rolled back slightly, and just that provided the evidence that you needed to know he was relishing this moment too. You wondered how it felt for him, imagining that the ghoul was trying not to come just from the feeling of being inside your tight, wet, pussy.

You rose up on your knees, leaving just the head of his cock inside you before pushing back down in a full thrust. Repeating the motion had you lightheaded already, and you could feel the ridges and veins of his throbbing dick rubbing up against your g-spot with every move. One thing was absolutely certain, you were not going to last like this.

Up and down, up and down, you bucked your hips rhythmically to do exactly what you wanted and fucked yourself on him. You were certain that you held your breath each time you impaled yourself on him, believing that his cock would punch the air from your very lungs if not. The pressure was building again, this time deeper within your core. All the tension was pulling, pulling so tight. Fuck. You wanted to last longer but it was impossible. The feeling of him inside you made that impossible. You gasped, “I’m - I’m going to - Ah!”

A primal sound tore its way out of your throat as you reached your climax. Dewdrops hands grasped possessively at your hips, forcing you to continue to fuck yourself on him through your orgasm. His hands kept you moving steadily on his cock and had you feeling completely overstimulated in seconds. You cried out a series of unintelligible words, the feeling so foreign to you but familiar at the same time. After several more deep, hard thrusts, his cock twitched inside you and you knew he would come soon too. The thought of him coming inside you became your undoing. You came again, screaming his name in praise and adoration and he pulled you down hard one final time before he jerked inside you and you felt his hot load coat your walls. Your pussy still spasmed from your own orgasm, milking him dry.

The two of you sat in silence while you caught your breath. You slid off his lap, wincing slightly as you felt his cock leave your cunt. You stooped to the floor, picking up your torn panties and then fixing your night dress. Straightening up you noticed he had zipped his pants back up and was sprawled lazily in the chair again. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. Is he sleeping?

Before you left the room, a red light amongst the blue caught your eye and confirmed your suspicion from earlier. You were being watched again, just as you had in the confession. You averted your eyes away quickly, not wanting whoever was on the other end to know you had discovered them. Hoping that by doing so, you could have another encounter with Sodo soon if he so wished.

... hope that ticked your taints *with love and adoration* (～￣▽￣)～

#dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop x reader #dewdrop x reader smut #the band ghost x reader #the band ghost x reader smut #sodo ghoul #sodo x reader #sodo x reader smut #dewdrop ghoul smut #dewdrop smut #dewdrop ghoul x reader smut #fire ghoul x reader

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gilverrwrites · 8 months ago

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Somethin' Sweeter

2022!Penguin/Reader, 1K words Request: LOVE the ozzie fics! Can you write something fluffy & smutty where it's their anniversary and reader prepared his favorite meal for dinner, wearing a cute sexy dress, and after dinner a special dessert 😏 Rating: 18+ I certainly can, honestly cannot get enough of this man, I don't think i'll ever turn down an Ozzie request.

CWs: Sugar baby dynamic vibes, vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving), petnames: doll, princess, darlin'. F!Reader.

In case nobody has told you recently: I am proud of you.

He’s been grinning at you like the early bird who got the worm all evening, but as he bit into his entrée his demeanour shifted. You perched on the edge of your seat, watching every micro-movement of his face as you await the verdict.

Preparing for tonight had been gruelling. Tracking down all the right ingredients, multiple practice attempts, conveying to Oz’s people that he was not to be disturbed, not to mention the priming that went into looking good for him. You know he would have loved whatever you’d made, would have fawned over you however you looked, but you wanted tonight to be perfect, and it was all worth it for the blissed-out look on his face right now.

He takes a second bite, and you can’t stand the anticipation. “Well, what do you think?”

“It's great, Doll.” He smacks his lips as he speaks. “It tastes just like my-“

“Just like you’re Nonna’s. I know!” You feel bad for interrupting, excitement getting the better of you. “It’s her recipe.”

“How did you manage that?” He asks, dabbing his mouth with his handkerchief.

“I made a few calls, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you like it.”

“Of course I like it, I’d like anything you serve me, but this, this is exceptional. You treat me well, don’tcha?” In earnest, you do your best, but Oz really is the caretaker in your relationship. You might cook on special occasions, make sure he doesn't work too hard, but he keeps you well-kept. No bills to worry about, a luxury roof over your head, a wardrobe full of so many clothes and shoes that you’ll never manage to wear all of them, and a soft bed where he reminds you why, of all the men in Gotham, you always come back to him.

“I do my best.” Plates scraped clean; you begin to clear the table. “I hope you’ve saved room for dessert. We’re having dark chocolate and coffee panna cotta.”

“Oh.” The plates in your hand nearly slip back onto the table, distracted by the disappointment in his tone, but when you turn to him, he’s looking at you with a sly glint in his deep brown eyes. He rests his palm on the back of your exposed thigh, ever so gently caressing your skin as he ghosted upwards, lifting the skirt of your dress in the process. “It’s not that princess, I just had somethin’ sweeter in mind. If you catch what I’m laying down here?”

“Sweeter?” A giggle escapes your lips as you tilt your head at him. Dishes abandoned you stride over to him, placing yourself on his good leg, holding onto his lapels as you pull yourself closer. The way his gold teeth gleam under the dim lights as he smiles at you sends a chill down your spine. “Like what?”

Oz places both his hands on your waist, strong fingers tactfully rolling up your dress once more until he’s able to admire your panties, soft purple satin with lace trim. There's a small wet patch already forming. With anybody else you might be embarrassed by it, but you know Oz loves the effect he has on you, even when he’s not eyeing you up like a prize.

“This is nice, but how about you hop up on the table and keep your legs spread open for me?” He punctuates his question, by tapping one hand on the dinner table behind you. You don’t need to be asked twice, as you situate yourself, Oz takes two big gulps of his water. “Cleansing the palate.”

His hand is steady as he hooks your underwear, far steadier than you feel as you watch the casual way in which he exposes your folds.

“Looks deliciosa.” He sniffs as he leans in closer to your wetness, angling his elbows to spread your thighs further, keeping them in place.

There’s no test taste, no teasing, his mouth covers you in seconds, engulfing you like a man starved. His tongue immediately begins work, tracing circles around your entrance, pushing in ever so slightly, in endless circles. The tip of his nose digs against your clit, every brush sending a wave of heat through your body.

It shocks you, making you cry out when he suddenly penetrates you with a thick finger and refocuses his tongue on your swelling clit. Your fingers unwittingly spread out into his dark thinning hair, as you fight the urge to ride his face. Oz likes to eat you out his own way, and you know you’ll be rewarded for sitting still.

“Ooh-, Oz!”

He hums between your lips, the resulting vibrations make your toes curl. He slips a second finger inside, continuing to suck at your sweet spot, all the combined sensations have you whining and shaking, orgasm fast approaching with every wave of pleasure. You chance a look down, and the sight of him hazy-eyed and buried in your core has you cumming, fists in the tablecloth, legs in the air as hit your climax.

The room falls silent, excluding your shared rapid breathing; you coming back down from your high, Oz catching his breath. Oz’s presence always had that calming effect on you, regardless of the situation. It doesn’t, however, stop the whine that escapes your lips when you feel his fingers brush against your sensitive slit. He thumbs your panties, situating them back in place.

“These are nice, did I buy these for you?” He knows he did.

“You bought the whole outfit.” You sit up straight, smoothing your dress out before gesturing to yourself up and down. “You have excellent taste.”

He gives you a once over, for what feels like the hundredth time that night, and despite him having had his face immersed between your legs only moments ago; your face warms with a bashful heat.

“You’re not wrong, Darlin’. But I can’t help thinking this whole get-up would look better on the floor.” It’s a cheesy line that would make you cringe if it came from the mouth of anyone else. Instead, you’re filled with enthusiasm, excited for the night ahead of you. “Now how’s about you head on to bed an’ get ready for seconds while I clean up?”

#oswald cobblepot #the penguin #oswald cobblepot x reader #the penguin x reader #farrell penguin #smut #gilverrwrites #oz cobb/reader #oz cobb x reader #oz cobb

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mercilesstickler · 11 months ago

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Favorite Tickling Techniques - Mine Would Have to Be "Red Dot" Tickling

Given my particular kink, and the friends I've cultivated on this site who share my love of all things tickling related, I've gotten several messages asking the same question - "What do think is the most effective tickling technique?" Well the real answer is...it depends. Based on my experience, and assuming you have a highly sensitive ticklee, my mind inevitably goes right to what I call, "The Red Dot Technique".

Let me explain...

Here is the setting - highly sensitive ticklee, 4 poster bed (or something similar), Lee tied spread eagled using 8 ties (wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts - then add a tie to each elbow and knee and secure to the side of the bedframe) complete and total immobility. Teasing is ESSENTIAL here. Tie her slowly, firmly but gently...then smile at her and reveal a red satin blindfold....place it on her to significantly heighten her nervousness and sensitivity. Then pour yourself a drink, sit on the bed next to her and chat...tell her you are just going to admire her body while you plan out your next moves...casually remark..."You have nothing to be nervous about...unless you're ticklish..." Watch as she tries to squirm away and begins to freak out a bit...now the negotiating begins...then as she is trying to convince you not to tickle her...you begin. Starting with her palms and ending with her soles you slowly explore every single inch of her helpless body. Nibbling, tickling...doing anything to elicit laughter. As you find an especially explosive spot....one which elicits that beautiful squealing "volts of electricity through the body" tickle response, you take out a soft tipped red pen...and you make a very tiny dot on that spot. Then you move on. By the end of this adventure you will have an exhausted ticklee...and a complete map of her absolute worst tickle spots.

This is where the real fun begins....after letting her rest for a bit...kissing her gently...refreshing your drink...you take out one of her favorite vibrators...she hears the buzz...you lie next to her and whisper in her ear, "So here is what is going to happen....I'm going to slowly bring you to a long, wonderful orgasm...you are going to cum like you never, ever have before. Then, after you cum and are lying there in that wonderful post-orgasm hypersensitivity, I'm going to slowly tickle you again...only this time I'm only going to tickle the parts of your body with the red dots. And then it begins....you slowly arouse her with the vibrator. As you do you whisper in her ear, "Don't you dare cum...don't you dare..." Of course this only makes her cum faster. When she does, you give her a long, deep kiss...and whisper in her ear, "You just lie back and relax sweetie. I'm going to do some exploring..." And round 2 of the tickling begins...and then it becomes an evening or orgasm...red dots...orgasm...red dots...You get it.

That's the most effective technique I know...

#tickling #tickle content #tickle scenarios #tickletorture #ticklish #tickled

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mostly-marvel-musings · 6 months ago

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Silver-tongued Lover

A/N: Written for @fandom-free-bingo . I do miss writing for Loki. Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed the story!

Pairing: Loki x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ strictly smut, bit of choking and hair pulling.

Word count: 1.9k +

Square filled: Dominant lover & Pulled onto their lap

Fandom Free Bingo Masterlist

Trays of exquisite champagne and hors d'oeuvres were being passed around, an air of general merriment floated in the huge ballroom that was filled with the who’s who of the society. The party was in honor of yet another successful mission carried out by the Avengers, it was also just an excuse to get together, wear fancy clothes and mingle.

You certainly weren’t complaining.

Not when you had a wicked plan brewing in your mind about teaching a certain silver-tongued lover of yours a lesson. Or get him to teach you one. Either way, you were winning. That little spat you had earlier would be forgotten the moment he would lay eyes on you.

The dress you chose for the event was particular, forest green satin that fell over your curves, accentuating them in all the right ways while exposing just the right amount of skin. Underneath you wore matching lace lingerie, one you hoped would end up on your bedroom floor by the end of the night. Your hair fell down your back in loose curls, curtaining what was mostly a backless gown.

Everybody gathered where Tony Stark was making his famous speech, entertaining the crowd and making them laugh at his anecdotes. Blending with the crowd, you felt his presence before his cool, slender hand slipped around your waist, his lips pressed against your ear.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, my lady.”

That voice. You were never getting immune to that, you had to accept it. The honey-dripping voice that could bring anybody down on their knees. A shiver went down your spine as he teased the shell of your ear ever so lightly with his tongue, smirking to himself.

“I mean, it’s the dress, isn’t it?” you teased, composing yourself enough to bring your hair over one shoulder, showing off the sexy, open back of the dress. It was your turn to smirk now that his sapphire eyes had darkened. Like a brooding storm on gray night. Instinctively, he covered you to avoid unwanted prying eyes. He wouldn’t want any other man besides himself to lay eyes on what was his and his alone.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he whispered, his grip on your waist tightening while you blinked up innocently.

“Enjoying the party, that’s all.” you murmured before walking away from the demi-God, adding an extra swing to your hips as you did, knowing he was watching you.

Weeks ago you had walked in on Loki working his charm over an intern to get information he needed, he had the nerve to brush it off simply by stating he had the gift of the gab and you were overreacting. Tonight you were prepared to show him what an overreaction truly was.

As the evening drew by you found yourself surrounded by men who weren’t subtle with their eyes, letting their gaze shamelessly drop to your cleavage as you chatted. From the corner of your eye, you found Loki glowering, ready to rip the men into shreds.

Around midnight, people found themselves sitting around the tables, conversations now turned into smaller groups.

“Ah there you are, Y/N! Do join us.” Thor’s baritone boomed over from one of the tables, offering you a kind smile as he sat opposite your favorite God of Mischief who looked over his shoulder, as if challenging you to join them.

Naturally, you had to.

Loki pulled you onto his lap just as you were about to pull a chair for yourself, securing you on one thigh with your legs on either side. You knew it was a deliberate move, he now had easy access to your heated core, one little brush and he’d know you were sans underwear.

“Might I say you look beautiful tonight, Lady Y/N.” Thor smiled at you, raising his glass in toast which you reciprocated.

“Loki, you’re awfully quiet today. Anything on your mind, brother?”

Clicking his tongue, Loki shifted underneath you, his slender fingers teasing the edge of the glass of mead he was having before picking it up.

“Not particularly. Lady Y/N might have an idea, although she spent half the evening conversing with other gentlemen.” His tone held light accusation, eyes holding a darkness that stirred something carnal within you.

“Ah! Green with jealousy.” Thor chuckled at his own joke drunkenly, going on about how trust is such an important factor in any relationship; meanwhile your little eye tennis match with Loki continued, each challenging the other to make the next move.

Shifting a little, you made sure to brush your core against his thigh, allowing a little gasp to leave your lips as it brushed against your clit ever so slightly. A smirk on your face grew wider as Loki’s fingers soon discovered your little secret, his eyes darkening further before he abruptly stood, taking you with him.

Without much as an excuse, he gripped your bicep and dragged you away from the party and towards the elevators. Once he had you caged between his arms, he didn’t mince his words as you’d awoken the monster that rested within him.

“What do you think you are playing at, pet?”

His breath was hot against your own, his face mere inches from yours, eyes boring into yours for answers.

“I don’t know what you mean..”

Wrong answer. That made him tug on your hair, gently but with enough force to elicit a gasp. With a knee wedged between your legs, Loki made sure to tease your core that was covered only by the thin fabric of your dress, all while the elevator traveled up to take you to your quarters.

“You are testing my patience, aren’t you love?”

Boldly, your hands found their way around his neck as you stood on your toes, lips reaching his ears to whisper the answer he was waiting for.

“I got what I wanted. You. Jealous.”

He released a breath against your cheek, chuckling upon hearing your words as the elevator promptly dinged to a halt. Straightening his robes, Loki stepped away from you and began taking long strides towards your shared room, leaving you no option but to follow.

His intentions were pretty clear when the doors were shut. To teach you a lesson.

Like a predator stalking its prey, he took deliberate steps towards you, eyes raking your form.

“Kneel.”

Even if you had planned to defy the demi-God earlier, you knew well enough to not do it after hearing that from him. Dropping to your knees with your hands on your thighs, you waited, pulse quickening as you heard him undo his pants, freeing his semi-hard length for you.

“You know what happens to pets who disobey?” Loki’s sultry voice sent tingles down your spine, a rush of excitement gathering between your legs as you looked up at him, shaking your head even though you knew the answer to that question.

His fingers traced the side of your face, ever so tenderly, admiring you at his mercy before he made you open your mouth and guided you towards his cock.

“Allow me to show you.”

Not that you assumed he’d be gentle, but as his length met with your warm mouth, Loki’s grip on your hair tightened and he bottomed out with a satisfied grunt.

With only a second to adjust, he began driving his hips back and forth, nudging the end of your throat with his sizeable length, until you gagged.

“You willingly chose to defy me. Allowed all those vile men to ogle at what’s mine.”

But you were being taught a lesson, so when your eyes met through your lashes, you saw a villainous glint that informed you that you were in for a long night.

Tears gathered in your eyes as he continued to drive his now hard cock in and out, the salty taste of precum evident on your tongue. It was torture but you endured, being rewarded with the most sinful grunts that reached your ears ever so often.

Abruptly, Loki pulled out, making you stand before pushing you against a wall.

“You played with fire today, pet.” He growled, invading your senses with all that was him once again.

“Only because I knew the fire liked to be played with.”

Your eyes flashed a hint of mischief, one you were certain he loved, but tonight wasn’t the night for it. This time your expensive dress bore the cost of your words. It was ripped until all of your legs were exposed to him.

“Another bad decision.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

Now semi-naked and vulnerable, Loki pushed your legs apart before snaking his hand between them to run his thumb along your slit. When he was met with your glistening arousal, he smirked.

“Look at you, soaked and yearning for me, my darling.”

That was his first term of endearment for you, you smiled to yourself before your mouth fell open; having Loki’s cool, slender fingers breach your entrance without warning came out in a soft gasp.

He pulled them out just as quickly as he had pushed in, feeding them to you where you could taste your eagerness.

Hiking your leg up around his hips, he entered you in one swift motion, forehead touching yours as you both sighed. The room was then filled with your needy moans as Loki’s cock dragged on your walls only to impale you until he was buried to the hilt. The continued assault made you cry out loud as your fingers dug in his shoulders, desperate for an anchor.

With your eyes shut in pleasure, you felt the fingers of his free hand wrap themselves around your throat, putting just enough pressure to add to the delectable passion unfurling between you.

“Tell me who you belong to.”

He grunted between his bruising thrusts, each one sending a wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

“You. I belong to you, my prince.” You breathed, sounding needier than usual. You didn’t want this to end, the lesson you were being taught felt like a reward.

Your walls began clamping around his length, making him twitch and groan as his lips descended towards your neck, claiming your body as his property.

Carrying you to bed, he laid you down, a little gently this time, cock slipping into your tight heat once again as he pinned your hands above your head, holding you captive. This time, his pace resumed the same brutality, your climax approaching hard and fast as he continued.

Reveling in the way your skin bloomed and flushed under his touch, Loki’s sense of dominance only grew. He’d never admit but he secretly loved the way you defied him in your ways and challenged him, it only always led to stimulating arguments and explosive sex.

The way you fell apart under him only drove him to chase his own release, his cock had been begging for it since he laid eyes on you that evening.

A few moments later while you basked in your high, his hips lost rhythm and he spilled his seed deep within your sopping cunt.

As breaths came slowed down to a normal pace, Loki found himself grinning against your warm skin, finally enveloping you in a kiss that conveyed all that words could never.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson fluff #loki oneshot #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki odinson #loki #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #mostly marvel musings #fandom free bingo

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