#you don’t understand I want him carnally

[bruisedboys]

….

AERIAL!!!!! I demand you stop putting callum turner edits in my inbox. this is a threat

[thehmn]

I wanted to make this post because we don’t see a lot of asexual characters in western media and despite him being from a hugely popular show (Seaside Hotel) you’re unlikely to know of his existence if you’re not from Denmark.

His name is Hjalmar Aurland and he’s one of the more sympathetic and realistic asexual characters I’ve seen. He lives in a time and place where asexuality as a concept doesn’t exist yet so he’s never labeled as such but rewatching the show made me realize that he acts exactly like the asexual people I personally know. Asexuality can mean a lot of things but his specific brand isn’t naive to sex nor is he repulsed by sex, sexual desire or thoughts simply doesn’t come naturally to him.

He can be convinced to have sex with his wife Helene but only if she appeals to their emotional bond. Just so you don’t get the wrong idea, he’s not being forced or emotionally blackmailed to sleep with her. It’s simply that he understands sex is a way to show emotional love too and he wants to express that love for Helene when it’s important to her, and seeing as sex isn’t unpleasant to him, just kinda boring, he’s willing to do that for her.

Unfortunately that isn’t enough for Helene and despite her love for Hjalmar she starts an affair with the dramatic and emotional actor Edward Weyse. He has a string of relationships, marriages and divorces behind him because despite what it may look like from the outside Edward doesn’t really want shallow sexual relationships. He just can’t help himself and keep falling in love with women left and right, fully and wholeheartedly, only to be dumped or dump them once the initial excitement has passed.

So Helene and Edward’s affair that was only meant to satisfy their carnal desires quickly becomes romantic. Helene feels torn between him and Hjalmar who she still loves and Edward understands the difficult situation they’re both in while also feeling jealous of Hjalmar. And Hjalmar? He doesn’t catch on for years. He’s not stupid but his brain just doesn’t jump to sex. He just assumes they’re good friends and why shouldn’t his wife be allowed to have friends, even male ones? Things get really complicated when Helene gets pregnant and she has to have sex with Hjalmar so he won’t wonder how it happened. Edward even has to join in on the seduction, reminding Hjalmar how much Helene loves him, even though it breaks Edward’s heart to do so.

But like I’ve said Hjalmar isn’t stupid. He saw the signs but chose to ignore them until one night when Helene accidentally says Edward’s name. It breaks the dam in Hjalmar’s denial and he has to face that deep down he always knew. Overcome by sadness and betrayal he wanders off into the night in nothing but his nightgown and gets a room at a different hotel where he can think in peace. Eventually he agrees to return to the first hotel with Helene and Edward and decides to take control of the situation.

He sits them both down and tells them that he understands that the three of them share a bond and that there are things he can’t really do for Helene so from now on he wants their relationship to be open and honest. He wants Helene and Edward to keep seeing each other and Edward is welcome in their house, but Hjalmar wants to be allowed to call Edward by his first name and makes it very clear that Helene and Edward’s children “belong to him” because he still thinks of himself as their dad and loves them as his own children. Both Helene and Edward agrees to it, though the emotional Edward is very flustered and confused by the acceptance and love he’s being shown by Hjalmar.

This is obviously a very tv drama situation but I was so stuck by how much Hjalmar acts like my asexual friends. Having a lover for your partner isn’t the most common solution but it’s an idea I’ve heard a lot of asexual people be open to under the right circumstances and of course that’s the most dramatic solution for a romantic tv drama.

Hjalmar is defined by so much more than his sexuality though. His main characteristic is his passion for social justice and equality, and other than some early show weirdness before they really cemented the characters, Hjamler is the only character who floats freely between the men and women. He’s just as likely to sit with the men as he is the women, often appearing in otherwise entirely female spaces. It’s never questioned or even brought up, not because he’s a “safe asexual” but because he cares and think their worries are as important as the men’s. He’s often called a pessimist by the other men when in reality he is determined to be hopeful and compassionate and spread the love he feels the world is lacking as WWII draws closer.

So yeah, I just wanted to share this sweet ace guy with you because you probably wouldn’t have known about him otherwise.

[dadsbongos]

hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ i was wondering if it's okay to be a little bit feral about viktor here.,..,., craving him. Carnally

let’s get feral about viktor…  general thots here and then a stupid blurb below the cut

would definitely be into face-sitting: pleasing his partner while laying back. hands free to roam and grope and you get to control the pace. you could grind on his nose and throw your head back and he just gets to listen as you squeal.

also would look so so so good covered in hickies….. purplish love bites decorating his sharp collarbones.. he’d probably let you get away with sucking some up his neck since he’s locked in the lab all day anyway

hngnnnggg he’s gotta be PENT up too. he’s handsome and he knows it, but he went from a studying assistant to a full scientist behind hextech so he pretty much capped himself on sex. so when he gets into it he is. INTO it. so needy and whiny and overstimulates himself to keep fucking you just so he doesn’t have to stop

i want him lol… not laughing

~~ 530 words

his careful and thoughtful inflection, each word he says wrought so particularly that no matter how big the words he uses are -you understand each one perfectly with how he uses it.

which is why you take so much pleasure in finding him tongue-tied next to you. pale cheeks flushing and eyes, so ragged with knowledge, wide chock full of curiosity. you’re sure he hasn’t gotten much attention -- no amount of beauty or charming accent can save a scientist from his own devotion.

he got dragged out to an exhibition gala by jayce and he’s been slick against the wall since arriving. no drink or plate in hand, he simply leans there in a bored silence. which is when the last person he wants to see arrives: you, the new assistant.

you spare no time before saddling up beside him with two champagne flutes. one has a dewy smear of gloss along the rim while you extend the other.

“any commitments tomorrow? or can i finally see the famed hextech let loose?”

viktor eyes the bubbles, dragging his gaze up to your face and halting there for an excruciating second before leaning to grab the glass.

“i was just thinking of leaving,” he admits, “these public showings are not my idea.”

“go figure. i think everyone here’s gathered that.”

“jayce can handle any questions of the evening…” viktor sighs, frowning down at the champagne, “sad that you wasted your time getting me the glass.”

“you know, i do wonder how many girls out in town dream about jayce. he’s the face -a pretty face- for hextech,” viktor raises a brow at you prodding for explanation, “i just don’t understand how they can overlook the brains.”

viktor jumps, gaze startling down to his feet, a stiff response already spilling, “jayce is half the brain, and so am i.”

“then i guess i just need to tell you that i think you’re cute.”

a flurry of excuses storms behind his eyes before he catches his breath, shoulders drooping as he exhales and realizes: he doesn’t have to find an excuse. he doesn’t have to refuse you at all. 

he’s not working tonight. you’re not working. he can’t remember the last time he got to act like a normal man with normal desires rather than fulfilling some vague purpose. an idyllic achievement.

he could just be a man tonight.

so he clinks his glass against yours with a soft smile, “then i’m assuming you’re not busy tomorrow, either?”

“i am not,” you beam, sliding closer toward him.

and good thing; both of you having the next day off means you can pull viktor into your apartment, and then your bed. he lets you guide the night, watching with uncharacteristic amazement as you strip -- he looks so mesmerized his hands clench, itching to scale up your bare sides.

you swing a leg over him when he’s sat against your headboard, “you okay, vik?” he tilts his head only for you to cup his cheeks and keep his head straight, “you’re all flushed.”

“your forwardness,” he blinks up at you, heart thrumming between his ribs, “it scares me.”

“oh?”

“i’ve never been more aroused.”

“oh…”

… in another world i will write a viktor fic with this same premise… it is so. Interesting to me.

[jov1ii]

Mine, All Mine

♡⃕.pairing: Husband!Salesman x Wife!Reader ♡⃕.synopsis: life with your husband. ♡⃕.word count: 1.4k+ ♡⃕.content warning: a little suggestive if you squint, arranged marriage.

The corner of his lips twitched as a hint of a smirk danced upon his lips. He had been watching you since the onset of morning. There was just something so…so captivating about the way you moved, the subtle grace of your mannerisms.

He supposed, it was the simple things that enticed him the most.

Tearing his gaze away, he rose and crossed the room to the mahogany desk; a silent cue for you to do the same.

"I suppose we shall get to know each other better?" You propose.

He watched silently as you stood and approached the desk. This arrangement, it was strange, unconventional. And yet, he couldn’t quite find it in himself to abhor the idea of spending every day, every hour in your company.

"Oh yeah? Is that what you want?" He was somewhat bemused by your suggestion.

You were hardly the type inclined toward the idea of matrimony, and neither was he. But here you were, his wife. His wife—the term sounded foreign upon his tongue.

He regarded you with a stoic eye, head canted slightly to the side. He was trying to figure you out, to understand the machinations of your mind. Such a task was seemingly monumental, no doubt, by the way of your closed off demeanor, a quiet, stoic disposition. But that was all the more reason he wished to figure you out.

You were... intriguing.

Days had come and gone since their first conversation.

He had, for the most part, settled into this married life quite well.

There was something soothing, peaceful, about the quiet domesticity of it all. Both you and him became acutely aware of each other's presence.

They say familiarity bred contempt, but for you and him, it bred something much different.

Every now and then, he would recall the subtle slope of your nose, the elegant dip of your shoulders, the way the sunlight pooled upon your skin… It took every bit of self-restraint he possessed not to ravish you there and then.

He had always thought of himself as an individual who could not possess emotions such but it wasn’t just carnal desire that he felt, rather, there was a certain depth to this feeling. A feeling he wasn’t quite able to place.

He tried to push away those thoughts as best as he could, but in the hours at night when he laid in bed, with you so close, it became harder to shut you out.

He laid awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep and plagued with the memory of your smile, the way you laughed, the scent of your hair- Wait.

"Can't sleep?" You ask, looking back at him.

The abrupt voice broke him from his trance. And then he groaned for the second time that night. He remained motionless for a few moments and then he rolls over, only to find you staring back at him from the other side of the bed.

”Clearly, neither can you…” He said, raking a hand through his rumpled hair which earned a chuckle from you.

The corner of his lips quirked into a smirk as the sound of your laughter reached his ears. He propped himself up on one elbow, studying you in the dim light. There was something rather enthralling about seeing you like this, all relaxed and vulnerable in the quiet night.

“I’d ask why you can’t sleep, but I think I already know the answer,” He teased.

"Oh yeah? What do you think is the cause?" You ask, smiling softly.

“You don’t seem to have much trouble sleeping during the day, when the sun is out. But come night time, suddenly there’s a change." He responded without a bit of hesitation. He wasn’t one to sugarcoat after all.

“You’re nervous about this new... condition, and about the future, and, if I’m not mistaken…a little scared of me,” He said, glancing back at you.

His words earned a huff from you. "Scared of you?"

His smirk widens into a sly smile as he props himself up on an elbow. He meets your gaze, regarding you with a keen eye.

“You are,” He states bluntly, reaching out and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I can see that little shiver that goes through your spine every time I touch you. That little bit of hesitation in your movements whenever I’m around.”

Oh.

When he suggested leaving the house “to get some air” on a Friday evening, you didn’t think much of it.

After all, for the first few weeks after marriage, he had spent his days working and evenings on the armchair by the fire. However, the last thing you had expected was to be led out the door and into his black car.

A date—was, and is, the furthest thing you had expected from a reserved man like your husband.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was nervous. A man as stoic and reserved as he, nervous for a date? Who would’ve thought. He had never been the romantic sort, too occupied in work and realistic for the idea of romance.

You tried to catch a glimpse of his expression from the passenger seat, but he was avoiding your gaze at all costs. Not a word was spoken, only the steady hum of the engine was heard as the scenery passed by.

Eventually, he pulled into a secluded spot overlooking a shimmering lake. A modest family-run restaurant on the edge of town.

He gets out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you after. And as you get out of the car, you are quick to glance around and take in your surroundings. Expensive.

The restaurant looked modest and homey, quaint even. You watch as he speaks a word to the waiter who leads the two of you to a secluded table.

He gestures to the table and pulls out your chair for you.

A soft “thank you” escapes your lips in response as you sink into the seat, before he takes his own seat across from you. He reaches for the wine list, scanning it before ordering a bottle of red.

"Do you plan on staying this quiet, or...?" You ask, biting back a teasing smile.

So she hasn't quite lost her bite, then. He leans back in the chair and crosses one leg over the other, a sign of feigned aloofness. "Perhaps I'll save my tongue for our food." He said.

"Boring." You comment, watching as the waiter approached with a bottle of wine and a pair of glasses.

You took the glass, now filled with wine and brought it towards your lips, glancing at him.

"Boring, eh?" He asks. "Maybe I should order a second round of drinks just to shut you up," he retorts with a smirk.

"You look a tad too cocky for my liking."

....

It did not take long before the drinks started to get you. You were laughing louder, talking more freely, and your cheeks had taken on a rosy flush. It would almost be cute, were it not so annoying- or so he liked to believe.

He sets the glass down on the table and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Perhaps one drink too many.

He watched you from across the table, the smile never leaving your lips, the glint in your eyes all the more noticeable when your guard was down like this.

"Don't look at me like that." You whispered, swirling the liquid in the glass, your voice slurred.

"And how exactly am I looking at you?" He asked in a low voice, leaning forward ever so slightly.

"Like you want to rip my dress right here, right now." You said, smirking.

He blinked, that little remark sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. He tried his damned best not to react, but the words had an immediate effect on him.

"Don’t be ridiculous." He mumbled. But your words were doing all kinds of things him, in all the right places.

And he could only take so much.

And just like that, one last drink, a ride home, a few fumbled steps in the doorway and a heated night later, when you woke up the next morning, you think all of it had been a dream- the dinner date, the alcohol, the lust-filled return home... But the sight of a slender arm curled around your hip said otherwise.

You can't help it, a smile starts to form on your own face. If this was how married life was supposed to be, then you were more than ready to welcome it with open arms.

[itertarot]

TAROT | FUTURE SPOUSE

What will your future spouse find so sexy about you? +18

Pick an image:

Pile 1:

Your future husband’s heart will belong entirely to you. What you share will be more about love than carnal desire. He will adore you with a warmth that feels like home, he’ll want to take care of you, to cherish you as something precious. He’ll find your mind unbelievably sexy, your ideas, the way you express yourself. You’re different from everyone around you. There’s something uniquely captivating about you, and it will intrigue him endlessly. He’ll always wonder what goes on inside that brilliant head of yours. If you love shopping, it will make your future husband extremely happy. he might even join you at the mall just to watch you try on clothes. He’ll love spoiling you and seeing you enjoy his gifts. The way you take such good care of yourself is a huge turn on for him. He’ll adore spending on you and seeing you with the finest things. Your outfits, your jewelry, your perfume… he’ll love it all. Your confidence will drive him wild. he’ll find it irresistibly sexy.

When you take charge of a situation, the way you command with both grace and precision will amaze him. You don’t even have to try, you’re just naturally incredible. He’ll melt when you allow yourself to be vulnerable with him, when you show him your scars, share stories of your childhood, and let him into your innermost world. He’ll find your softness and strength equally intoxicating.

I don’t see him as overly kinky, he’ll prefer making love over just sex. His desires are deeply tied to emotion, making every moment intimate and tender. Your future husband will adore your spontaneity, the thrill of never knowing what you’ll do next. If you randomly spout an unexpected fact, he’ll love it. If you decide to go to the beach at 4:35 AM, he’s all in. Not knowing what your next move will be? That’s his favorite thing about you.

They adore your legs, especially if you’re tall or have that elegant, long-legged silhouette. Your skin drives them wild, so soft and radiant. Some might even have a thing for your feet, but most? Their real fetish is being your devoted servant. They’re mesmerized by your hair, the way it falls, the way it moves. Your back? A graceful curve they can’t resist tracing with their eyes (or hands). And lingerie? Absolutely lethal. When you spoil yourself, indulging in luxury, is pure seduction to them. Short dresses and heels? A combo they’ll never tire of. And when you play innocent just to tease them? Maddeningly sexy. If they’re an artist, prepare to be their eternal muse, they’ll sketch, make a big painting of you to put on their private museum.

Your breasts? Perfectly proportioned, not just to your body, but to your very essence. You’re a masterpiece, darling. But nothing turns them on more than your vulnerability. Even as they kneel at your feet, they know the truth, you hold all the power!! And that’s exactly how they love it.

Pile 2:

Your future spouse is deeply drawn to the way you move through the world with quiet strength and compassion. There's something incredibly attractive about how you offer kindness without expectation, the gentle way you listen, the safe space you create where people feel truly heard. They admire how you never minimize others' pain, but instead meet suffering with open arms and understanding. You're powerful, healing, and surprisingly sensual. What really captivates them is your strong moral character. You have this innate sense of justice that refuses to look away from unfairness, yet you're never quick to judge. They love watching you navigate conflicts, carefully considering all sides, seeking solutions that restore balance rather than escalate tension. That thoughtful approach, that commitment to doing what's right even when it's hard, makes them respect you deeply. Your patience is sexy. You look towards the future, planning, building, and creating stability. They find this long term vision incredibly sexy because it shows you're someone who stays, someone people can rely on. Also intellectually, you're endlessly fascinating to them. The way you constantly seek to learn and improve yourself, the curiosity you bring to conversations, the knowledge you've accumulated is very sexy from their pov.

They love your waist.

Your future spouse loves when you wear a bra or clothes that hint at what's underneath, that tease drives them crazy.

They're like your shoulders.

Some might have a thing for food fetish.

They love you complement them.

If they're taller, they adore how perfectly you fit against them.

Pile 3:

Your future spouse is deeply drawn to your traditional nature, not in an outdated sense, but in the way you honor commitment and create meaning in your relationship. They see you as the perfect partner, someone who embodies exactly what they’ve always longed for. You make a house a home, it’s not about chores or perfection, it’s the feeling you cultivate. Whether it’s the way you decorate, the warmth you bring, or the little rituals that make your space uniquely yours, they adore how you make your personality be seen through your home. Also if you both have dinner together with candles, they will love it. Your respect for partnership is everything to them. They feel complete with you, secure in knowing they chose someone who values loyalty as much as they do. The way you prioritize "us" over "me" makes them proud to call you theirs.

Your vulnerability is sexy.

They find it sexy when you let yourself feel pain in front of them

Trust them enough to cry in their arms

Share your deepest dreams and secret fears

That moment you come out of your shell? It’s amazing to them. They’re honored to be the only one you allow past your walls.

Your introversion is sexy.

Watching you get lost in hobbies.

How you are straightforward.

When you take the lead.

You lying down is sexy.

If you wear glasses they find it so sexy.

The way youre shy.

That tantalizing half covered look, sheet or towel artfully draped.

The way you trust them to let them fuck you

Your breast.

Some have a corruption kink.

They're big on giving you oral.

Pile 4:

Your future spouse is captivated by every part of who you are. your strength, your resilience, the way you’ve faced challenges and reinvented yourself time and time again. They admire how you never gave up, no matter how hard things got. Your sharp mind, your quick wit, your creativity, they find it all incredibly attractive. You have magic in your hands and an innovative spirit that sets you apart. You don’t just follow the crowd, you think for yourself, and that independence is something they deeply respect.

They’re in awe of how well you collaborate with others, the way you bring people together and make teamwork seem effortless. To them, you shine like the sun, you the center of their universe, someone they’d gladly spend a lifetime serving. In their eyes, you’re the main character, the one who commands attention without even trying.

They adore your fiery, bold, and self-assured nature, the way you carry yourself with confidence and grace. But they also love the softer side of you, the way you care for those you love, how you let your affection show when you feel safe enough to open up. To them, you’re their person, the perfect one, the ultimate girl in the world. Your mind fascinates them endlessly. They love when you suddenly switch topics mid conversation, how you effortlessly weave one thought into another. They find it charming when you say or do random things, when you’re completely and unapologetically yourself.

They like your breast. They like your belly. They love talking to you. They like your butt. They love your pussy, also heavy on oral. They love quando voce usa roupa de tecidos finos. They love your legs.

[carbonfiction]

i know the general census is that frank is gentle but how would he handle if his little bunny that seemed all innocent and shy liked it insanely rough? not just spanking and backshots “rough” but face slapping and grabbing, breath play like holding her mouth and nose, intense manhandling like chokeholds and being held in the air to show how small she is in his arms and lowk clit torture. and she likes to act all delicate because she is and can’t even fit him all the way in after training and also squirts from a few touches to her clit but she likes being broken and wants him to use every ounce of his strength to do that and i need him to skullfuck me with my hands tied behind my back with a vibrator assaulting my clit…and then he slaps my cheek over and over and then pulling out to put me in a chokehold until i’m bruised 🐳 glasses anon i need him to break five pairs monthly from how rough he is i need him to CORRUPT MEEE

FIRSTLY!! 🐳ANON HELLOO<33 I have missed you<3

Please you are so real, it’s like actually a carnal needdddd how bad I need frank to hold my jaw and coo filthy filthy things at me while he blows out my back. And you are SO right on the corruption and skull fucking omggggg. Oh and I also wanna add bc of this ask (and my absolutely foul thoughts on born again bearded frank) I ammmm working on a rougher/mean!Frankie piece rn and I am quaking each time I open the draft. I cannot wait to get a sec to get it finished for y’all <3

im praying this is understandable enough though and not complete waffle😭 I struggle trying to get my thoughts out clearly enough sometimes if ya couldn’t already tell🥲 18+smut thoughts below the cut inc themes of rough sex, breath play/choking, Size kink? Doggy/prone? Was the goal anyway😭Overstimulation, bodily fluids and aftercare (pleeeeease lmk if I've missed anything, i always go blank tagging😭)

Buuuuuuut buckle up! in response to this, I feel like if there’s anyone who can offer the rough stuff it’s him yk? Obviously if you were to let him, no mattwr how embarrassed you could be about it, he'd listen openly. But just know there would be SO many conversations beforehand on likes, dislikes, hard limits, safe words, boundary’s ect, and this goes for both of you! Neither of you want to make the other uncomfortable, especially not in a moment that takes such a level of sexual intimacy, trust and even respect. (Even when being deceptively disrespectful sometimes)

Frank strikes me (and im sure many of you guys) as task motivated so if his baby bun wants something a certain way, he’s going to ensure everything is correct for her to get it. He loves you too much to do anything without afformentioned confirmation. This also includes a lot of discussion on what sort of thing you need for aftercare within those moments when things get heavy too-

And I say those moments bc I don’t think he’d always indulge it? like dont get me wrong, he’d do it, but it’s not going to be every single time you fuck yk? He might incorporate bits here and there like a lil hard tap on the cheek for your attention “eyes on me, yeah, there she is, theres my dirty girl” or a hand on the neck “that feelin good sweetheart? That pretty head gettin all fuzzy?”

Perhaps frank even indulges you with licks of overstim outside of those moments, forfilling it with whatever form is within the mood- vibe, his mouth or fingers. “Shhh, You can take it. Taken more than this before, atta girl, you feel it, aint gotta think, just gotta keep cummin”

But the whole shebang? The whole 9 yards of him getting reeeeal rough, properly leaving marks, really manhandling or getting intensely mean would definitely be different; perhaps even almost planned? Like for example those moments are reserved for say arguments sake, ovulation, pent up stress relief or when your headspace is feeling a specific way?

The way he fucks, the way he talks and touches you? All Completely different to how frank would usually operate in the bedroom and that’s not a bad thing in the slightest!! I just personally feel it would take as much out of frank to do it as it would for you to take it yk?

But That being said he would be disgustingly good with it when he does use it <3

Wrapping his big bicep beneath your chin as he fucks into you harshly from behind, the other hand pinching and slapping at your tits- the taugt buds of your nipples- sharply enough to make you jerk and gasp. Problem is though, the more you jerk and react the more he tightens his hold, squeezing you in the headlock until he can feel the flutters of your cunt and the heaves of your chest. His massive body completely draped over yours, the weight of him pressing you down toward the mattress, hips pummelling your backside in a brutal fashion, punching deep and fast. "Fuckin tight little hole's squeezin my cock, you like not bein able to breathe? feelin me in your tummy?" the hand at your tits drifting to press at your stomach making you squeak, the pressure intensifying the pleasure coursing through you. "Yeaaah, yeah you love all that cock in there dontcha Bun, greedy fuckin girl. Made for it, just lettin me use that pussy how i want"

That hand (sometimes then reaching for your vibe if the mood so runs that way) will then drift further down to your puffy clit, already oversensitive and abused from prior attention. Frank slaps it once, twice, three times before immediately massaging tight, quick figure eights until you practically end up limp in his grip, eyes rolling back as you cum again with a choked, almost gargled moan. Your cunt squeezing him almost as tight as the grip on your neck before he lets go; letting euphoria take over your body with each gasp of oxygen that fills your lungs.

Frank does not stop until he feels you physically cannot cum anymore (or you Safeword!!). He fucks you through orgasm after orgasm (even his own) until you’re nothing short of a mess, practically trembling like a newborn deer and the slightest brush on your clit has your legs closing with a broken yowl. Panting body absolutely covered with various marks, drying spit, slick and cum.

The aftercare, while hes incredible with it generally, is then a complete 180 however- gone is all the roughness of his movements, the sharpness of his words. Replaced by touchs that are feather light and words careful, quiet grumbles as he checks in on you. "Hey pretty girl.. Heads all hazy huh? I know.. But i gotcha, franks gotcha, your safe."

Once you've had a drink and a little bite to eat, some fruit or something simple, he'll always carry you to the bathroom and only leave you to change the sheets as you sit to pee (bc christ forbid a uti on his watch-) then you can lean back against his chest in the warm water of the bath he left running, his broad body sat behind yours as he gets you clean without you even needing to move.

Whispers of soft praise and gentle shushes filling the echoing bathroom as he ensures every sensitive inch of skin is clean even when your eyes droop. "Shhh, i know.. Know its sore baby, just one more moment. One more swipe n' ill leave it alone yeah?" punctuated with a soft kiss to your temble that an hour ago you wouldn't of been able to even dream of him doing.

Frank dries you off with the softest towl you own, of course warmed by the dryer. soothing your skin with a lotion and/or balm you love. Never forgetting to pay extra gentle attention to the red welts on your ass, thighs and chest as he tells you how gorgeous you are in a moment that sometimes, you can feel anything but.

He'll help you into the pajamas you choose (wether your own or one of his shirts/boxers) and not bat a single eye if wearing panties to bed is too uncomfortable for you to handle.

Once fully comfortable his first mission is to then get you a propper snack or little meal. Insisting food is fuel and you need it after everything he put you through as he treads of to the kitchen. Coming back to then execute mission number 2: laying down with you resting cuddled up on his chest.

Fingers softly running over your arm as he presses kisses anywhere he can with little movement. "Doin okay sweetheart? You tell me if you need anything else alright? Nothins too much for my girl." " so proud of you, ya know that?"

"Gettin sleepy down there? I know..shh, you get some rest. Not goin anywhere i promise, Love you sweetheart"

[66stitches]

abby anderson request !! :)

i wanted something where abby is starting to doubt her sexuality and trusts reader to ask questions and just talk about it (reader is a lesbian and they're close friends, it can end up with them kissing — or more, if you're comfortable)

cw: sfw, kissing (a lot of it), descriptions of masturbation (abby), talk of sexuality and questioning sexuality, no physical description of reader

Daily click - Palestine masterpost - TLOU and israel

a/n: thank you for the req !! I don’t write full on smut unfortunately (though I might write some short stuff in the future), but I tried to write a few kinda sexual scenes here and there

wc: idk prob like 1k

divider creds

Abby loved Owen, truly. She was attracted to him: that is what she kept convincing herself of everyday.

Every moment with Owen was a new lie she fed herself.

He was the man she loved. There was nothing she doubted in her relationship with him. The absence of love’s warmth meant to fill her body was her own fault; her inability to reach climax when they had sex was a problem for which only she was to blame.

It doesn’t mean she never tried, though. Abby had spent nights attempting to pleasure herself to the thought of Owen: the only person she should be thinking of; the only person supposed to be capable of reaching her to her climax.

And yet, all she felt was nothing. She laid in her bed, carnal and romantical dissatisfaction utterly consuming her. She was convinced that she was simply incapable of experiencing any sort of attraction exceeding platonicity.

But it only grew more confusing from there.

In another one of her inevitably futile attempts of bringing herself to climax to the thought of Owen, she felt her mind begin to drift to another thought that would hopefully bring her to that much desired release.

She didn’t intend for it to, but the man was just not doing it for her.

That night, she thought of a woman.

That night, she came so hard she swore she could see stars.

A specific woman she thought of in particular, but she would never admit who it was that finally relieved that ache. Not even in the confines of her own thoughts.

And so here she found herself, seated on the soft cushion of your worn-out couch.

You were Abby’s sole friend who was openly lesbian. Abby had seen you bring women over numerous times before. She had listened to your rants about your sexual and romantic encounters with women.

She even helped set you up with one, which harbored a slight odd feeling in the pit of her stomach for a reason she couldn’t quite decipher.

She had thought of it many times: what it was like being with a woman. She didn’t really know what to make of those thoughts. Whether it was mere curiosity, or perhaps something more.

And now here she sat next to you, trying to find the confidence to speak.

She never found it hard to confide in you. Of course not, you were her dearest friend. But this dilemma of hers was difficult to merely utter aloud, even if it is only to herself.

You were on your phone when Abby spoke.

“So… you’re gay,” she started, and she wanted to strike herself as soon as the words left her mouth, because of course you were gay. What kind of opening is that?

“Good observation?” You chuckled, bemused. You placed your phone down, curious as to where she was going with this.

“What’s it like? You know, being with a woman,” she asked, already regretting bringing it up, but she just needed some certainty.

Your eyebrows twisted in confusion at the inquiry. You and Abby were comfortable enough to share anything with each other. Nothing was considered too much information or too uncomfortable to talk about.

It was just an odd question coming from Abby, who you thought was so sure of her sexuality.

“I guess it’s like how it feels for you being with a man.”

God, she hoped not.

“Why?” You asked.

“Just curious, that’s all. Wanna understand your sexuality more, educate myself,” she spoke rather timidly.

You laughed softly. “Oh, because you’re so woke, right?”

Abby could tell you didn’t believe her. In all fairness, she didn’t really put much effort into trying to sound the least bit credible.

She didn’t even know why she was lying to you right now. She trusted you, she always has. This was just a difficult truth to face.

“I don’t know. I’m just feeling a little confused, I guess,” she confessed, shrugging.

“About your sexuality?” Your voice was slow, but your heart beat quicker than ever before.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find Abby attractive. You’ve always had a little childish crush on the blonde, but you constantly found yourself trying to shove your feelings aside, somewhere far away so it could no longer reach to gnaw at your heart.

But now this — this made it all different. You might be getting slightly ahead of yourself, but you can’t help but think that now you might have the smallest chance with her.

“I don’t know— I mean, yeah, I guess,” she said as she fiddled with the seams of her shirt. “Owen’s just never really made me feel… well, anything. Anything you’re supposed to feel with a partner, I don’t feel it. I thought maybe the problem was Owen specifically, but I’ve come to realize that it’s not.”

“But women get you going?”

“I think so,” she admitted, finally. “I tried to think about a woman last night, while, you know…” she trailed off, her skin suddenly feeling very hot at the confession.

“And?” You whispered, feeling just as hot at her confession. “Was it just what you were missing?”

Abby went quiet for a moment, then she answered. “Yeah, it was.”

It was silent. Abby still looked like she had something to say, so you offered no response for a moment.

“But how could I know? I’ve never tried anything romantic or sexual with another woman, so how would I be able to tell? I could just be confused,” she said.

You were quiet, contemplating your next words. What you were about to do could either ruin your friendship, or elevate it to something more. You were relying on the latter.

“You wanna try?” You asked. Your voice sounded bold, but everything within you was shaking with apprehension.

She offered naught but an incredulous look. Her eyes were blown wide, disbelieving.

“What?”

Well, shit.

“I mean, solely for experimental purposes, of course. A kiss shared with another woman, just to be certain,” you explained.

The tension was thick, almost palpable. You were nervous at Abby’s silence and you realized that this is where your boldness gets you.

You were ready for her harsh rejection and the revulsion that would surely be evident in her voice, but then she spoke.

“Okay,” she said. Not a hint of revulsion in her tone. You didn’t know it, but her heart beat just as quick as yours.

“Really?” You asked, surprised as if you hadn’t been the one to offer.

“Well, yeah,” she leaned in slightly, bringing her face closer to yours. “Just for experimental purposes, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” you breathed. You brought your face to hers, and in a split second you closed the gap between you, meeting each other in a slow kiss, your eyes fluttering shut.

Her lips were soft. Her kiss felt nervous, lacking confidence, yet it still exceeded every expectation.

You pulled away once you felt it was enough. You looked at her and waited for what she had to say.

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely gay,” she said and pushed your face right back into hers, meeting your lips in a much more heated kiss.

This kiss, however, held the confidence the previous one lacked, her lips moving skillfully against yours. You waited for the shock to wear off before kissing her back, clearly not expecting her to want more.

You disconnected your lips once again, pulling her face away from yours. “Abby—”

“Just need-” she interrupted her own words to press another swift peck to your lips. “A little more-” another kiss. “Just to make sure,” she said, finally and pulled you in for another kiss. She cupped your burning cheeks with her palms and slipped her tongue into your mouth.

What was supposed to be an innocent kiss, solely for the sake of experiment (how the thought made you laugh now), turned into her exploring your mouth with her tongue and pushing her body against yours. This kiss held no place for innocence now.

She softly moaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating throughout your body.

She used her thumb to lightly caress your cheek as she kissed you like her life depended on it. She slightly pulled apart then, nibbling on your bottom lip with her teeth.

As the kiss came to an end, you sat staring at each other, breathless, and oh so blissful.

“You wanna know something?” Abby asked with a dumb smile on her face which brought another smile upon your own. You hummed.

“It was you,” she started, still faintly breathless. “You were who I thought of.”

Your eyebrows rose at the confession. It was unexpected, but certainly not disliked.

What you were more surprised at, though, was how casually she said it, seemingly too blissed out at the moment for any feeling of embarrassment.

“You telling me I was your gay awakening?” You asked, grinning.

“You could say that.” She shrugged and scratched at the back of her neck.

You laughed and scooted closer to her. “Well, I guess I’m honored then,” you said.

“Alright,” she rolled her eyes and laughed. She leaned in then, craving more of your taste.

You giggled into the kiss and pulled away, licking your lips to savor her intoxicating taste.

“I think we’ve already come to the conclusion that you’re gay. You still want more?”

She brought her face closer again and caressed your cheeks. She was close enough that you could feel her breath against your lips.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Now shut up and let me kiss you.”

[tojisun]

biker!simon (ghost) riley x fem reader

!! smut - minors dni; mask kink; D/s; off-screen scene discussion (like power play); dacryphilia; extended foreplay; petnames; mean simon // 2.6k words

biker!simon mlist

it is carnal. desperate. pawing hands finding each other, trying to get rid of the leather.

you fall on the bed with a huff, body bouncing as the mattress ripples, soft sheets tickling your bare skin. you look up, blinking past the haze, watching as simon gazes at you – clothed. helmeted.

there is something that stirs in your stomach at seeing the disparity – you, naked and bare for him; him guarded. shielded. like he is a mere spectator of your body. like you are made to have you served on a silver platter for him to nip at your flesh and to etch his passions on your skin. like all that you are is his to enjoy – a one-sided servitude. 

you tremble with need, watching as he fiddles with his belt, metal clanking together when he goes to unbuckle it. you bite your bottom lip in anticipation, following the way his thick fingers pinch his zipper to tug downwards, giving you a glimpse of his black boxers. then, he reaches for his helmet.

“no!” you yelp, scrambling to stop simon from removing the gear. you don’t even register what you did or how the word ripped through your lips until it resonated in the room, your chest heaving when the realization struck.

simon’s head cocks to the side slowly, looking animated with his helmet. it makes you clench your thighs close, putting pressure on your throbbing clit, and you watch with bated breath as simon’s head dips down to follow the length of your legs.

there is something in not seeing his face that has you aching, desire creeping in from the base of your spine to the tips of your fingers. something that simon must have felt too because he unhooks his hand from his chin strap to continue shucking his cargos just low enough that you can see the chub underneath his boxers.

“like what you see?” he asks, his crooning voice muffled by his helmet.

your legs squeeze tighter, your arm unconsciously coming up to cover your tits. you do not answer him, too caught up in watching as he slowly palms himself through his boxers, cupping his hand around his tent like he’s reminding you what he’s packing.

like he’s showing you what he promises he’ll give you.

but your silence makes him snarl, his hand falling to his side before he stalks towards you. his shins bump the edge of the bed, then he bends forward, his big frame towering over your trembling figure. you feel like a prey caught before him, naked and grappling with the desire that chokes you because there is something addicting at being so powerless before him.

simon laughs, something faint and mean, like he knows what got you spiralling. like he understands. 

he reaches a hand out and pushes your hair away from your face. “i should’ve known that y’r a slut for this.”

the words are whispered, barely breaching the mouth guard of his helmet, but they pierce through the building static between the two of you and you couldn’t help the whimper that falls from your lips nor the willowy gasp of his name. 

simon breathes in sharply before surging towards you, his gloved hands reaching to tug your arms away from your body so he can see you again. you resist with a little pull on your end, your mind buzzing with a building fog, but simon’s hold only gains strength as he tightens his fists around your wrists. 

“show me,” he grunts, pulling you towards him.

you glide across the sheets easily, simon’s overwhelming strength stirring your desires even more. shamefully, you feel your cunt dampen, slick gathering at the lips of your pussy just at having been manhandled by your lover. you want to press your face on the inside of your arm and hide how affected you are by simon’s display of dominance, but his hands are already sliding down your sides, hooking by your hips, before stopping just at the meat of your thighs.

you tumble backwards, head falling to the mattress when simon kneels between your legs, slotting himself there like that is his rightful spot; like that is where he has always belonged. 

then, he stops. you think you know why.

“oh, sweetheart,” he croons, folding himself towards you just enough to make it easy for him to peer at your glistening heat. “look at you leakin’.”

you tear your eyes away from the ceiling to peer down at him, your cheeks burning at the attention he pours into your cunt, only to freeze, your breath getting stuck in your lungs. 

because how could you even forget?

the expanse of your wet cunt is reflected on his visor, the details stark and clear, and you hiccup, ripping your eyes away from the image and thrashing to curl into yourself. shame unfurls in the pit of your stomach, snuffing out the rumbling want that had just overwhelmed you, but simon holds you down to make you stop. 

“you have nothin’ to be shy about, kid,” he says, easing his hands away from your wrists to grip your hips. “look at me. i said look at me.”

you sniffle as you gaze back at him, flinching when all you see is your face reflected back. simon pauses at your reaction, his hold on your hips going lax.

“do you want the helmet off?” he asks, genuine concern now lining his voice. 

you blink, twining your hands together now that simon isn’t holding them. yes please tickles your lips but you hesitate, battling with yourself because-

because you still want the thrill of this – the brief imbalance of power between the two of you where you are simon’s prey, and all that you are is at his mercy; the temporary display of his darkness, stretching over the horizon as he bears down onto you, diminishing your very being into nothing but his to use for pleasure.  

because you ache to feel small. 

so you shake your head slowly, steeling yourself as you continue to look at simon’s visor, trying to see past your reflection as though you can catch a glimpse of his eyes if only to show him that you still want this. 

but more than your want, more than the hunger you have for simon, you want to show him that you trust him. 

and when you feel simon’s hands spasming from where they are gripping your hips, you know he understands. 

“okay,” he says, nodding. his bobbing head almost makes you giggle. “but tell me when you want to stop, alright sweetheart? remember your safeword?”

“mhmm,” you hum, writhing on the bed to get closer to him, sighing when your greedy hands finally get to rub along his abdomen. “cake pops.”

he cups your cheek, the leather smooth against your skin. “that’s right. cake pops.”

—

“please,” you sob, trembling in desperation as simon continues to tease his fingers along your slit. he has yet to give you a taste of what you want even when his cock weeps, staining the fabric of his boxers. you want to commend him for his self restraint but you know he is doing this to tease you. to drive you to insanity. 

simon remains unmoved, pushing down on your stomach when your squirming turns erratic, before scooping out a glob of your slick and rubbing it along your hardened clit to make a mess out of your weeping cunt. you squeal, clawing at the sheets when his fingers pinch your clit, the muted pleasure razing into something that stings. 

and yet it is still not enough.

“simon pleasepleaseplease,” you babble, blinking bleary eyes at him and shivering when all you’re met with is the sight of your tear-stained face. 

you look like a wreck with your hair sticking to your damp face, your lips swollen from the way you have nibbled on them to bite down your sobs and whimpers whenever simon ripped his fingers out of your cunt every time he felt you tighten up. 

“no cumming without my permission, doll,” he crooned, all mean and playful. 

then he’d repeat the process – fucking his thick fingers into your pussy, pumping them with a broken tempo so that you’d never get use to the stretch, crooking them just right until your back arches off the bed with a broken scream, only for simon to push you back down again with a faux disappointed sigh.

“stay put or y’r not cumming.”

it isn’t like it mattered anyway if you had followed his commands, not when simon’s too familiar with your body; attuned to the way you react when you’re near your orgasm. and you know this is all a play to him – something that gets him off as he pulls you to the edge of your euphoria only to drag you back down from your high, crooning words lilting and fading into the background as your ringing ears struggle to grasp the sudden loss of your peaking orgasm.

he plants his hand on your belly, rubbing soothing circles as a sob racks your body. “y’ve been so good f’r me,” simon murmurs. his other hand swipes at your cunt again. “gonna reward you now, princess. gonna give you what you need.”

you sigh, a happy contented sound, and simon laughs at your reaction before lifting his hand up to cup your jaw. the action is tender and soft even when his thumb traces along your bitten lips, wiping away at the thin sheen of spit that pooled at the edge of your mouth.

you watch it all through his visor, feeling breathless at the image you make. at the image that simon reduces you to.

simon notices. of course he does.

“pretty, aren’t you, baby?” his head falls closer to you as he says this, purposefully encompassing your full visage so that your teary eyes could see your wrecked self. 

you feel faint watching as his thumb finally dips into your mouth, pushing past your plush lips until the pad of it bumps into the front of your teeth. you move to suck at his finger even when he doesn’t ask, cataloguing the way your lips wrap around his thumb or how your cheeks hollow when you begin suckling.

you look erotic. sinful. 

simon groans like he is thinking the same thing, his helmet bumping your forehead.

“christ, sweetheart. y’ve ruined me.”

you giggle softly as he nuzzles his helmet on your sweat-stained forehead and squeezes your jaw for the last time before pulling away. he leaves you there on the bed, your eyes blown wide as you watch him tug at his boxers to finally free his pretty, pretty cock.

the moan that leaves your lips is pornographic and carnal, and simon jolts, his hand coming up to fist his cock as the sound ricochets in the room. you see his chest heave and, had your mind not been reduced to a needy mush, you would have realized that he’s gripping his cock to stop himself from cumming just from the sound you made.

“spread y’r legs f’r me, baby,” he growls, his hand still gripping his cock. 

and you do as he says: your hands ball on top of your chest as you spread your legs spread apart, the soles of your feet rustling against the sheets. cool air hits your dripping cunt and you mewl, feeling and seeing how exposed you are before simon.

“so pretty,” simon groans as he shuffles close, lining his cock against your cunt. “an’ it’s all mine, yeah?”

you nod, you think. you honestly don’t know. not when your attention is rooted to simon’s visor, watching with stuttering breaths as he moves to rub his cock along your folds. the first touch makes you squeal, the rush of pleasure jolts you into closing your legs. it’s only simon’s hand pressed on the inside of your thigh that stops you from doing so, the pressure he’s putting on your leg gluing your muscle onto the bed. 

“fuck, sweetheart,” he croaks, still slicking his cock along your folds, the sounds so filthy as they filter through the air. “so fuckin’ wet f’r me.”

god, this is torturous. you need him so desperately, it hurts.

you break into sobs as you reach out to grasp at his arms, feeling untethered as your sanity slips under the fog, feeling it grow taut like a band that’s about to snap when simon’s cock rubs against your clit. he tilts his head up just enough that you know he’s watching you, his beautiful eyes roving over the devastation on your face.

knowing that he’s looking eggs you on – desperation clawing underneath your skin, needing to be itched. “inside, please! simon, please-!” you hiccup. “i wan’ feel you! i wan’-”

you scream, your words petering into a garbled wail when simon finally sinks his cock in you. your head falls back to the pillows, your eyes rolling back to your skull. but he keeps on sliding, keeps on thrusting in – his cock is so long, it feels endless. 

you’re babbling, moans slithering into a noiseless squeal when simon’s pelvis finally bumps the inside of your thighs. 

he’s in. you realize with a tremble. all of him, in you.

your ecstasy bloats, peaking, and your toes curl when it explodes, razing through your sanity until all you can feel is a buzz. you go numb, your ears ringing with a growing static and you fall lax on the bed. a marionette with strings cut.

“fuckin’ hell, princess,” simon hisses, almost like a happy purr. a muted thump somewhere beside the bed tickles your ears. “you jus’ squirted.”

what?

he laughs, the sound so giddy as it spills from his lips. lips which, you realize amidst the satiated thrums spreading throughout your body, you can see. 

oh, you think with a start. his helmet’s gone.

“si?” you murmur, voice hoarse and rugged.

“i’m here, sweetheart,” simon replies, burying his face on the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. “y’came so good f’r me. so perfect f’r me.” he presses a kiss on your skin as he says this.

time stops becoming a blur for you and it trickles back to you in bits, starting from the buzz underneath your veins and the satisfying weight buried in your cunt.

oh-

“simon, i’m sorry-”

simon kisses your lips and devours your apology, his tongue licking into your mouth, claiming with such ferocity. you moan, feeling the expanding warmth running from your throbbing lips to your fluttering cunt; not yet satiated. needing more. 

you gasp when he finally pulls back just enough that his lips hover above yours, ghosting a touch. clingy even when you are wrapped around him. 

“y’came like a good girl,” simon murmurs, his breath tickling your spit-smeared lips. “my good girl.”

you let out a happy sigh when simon draws out, the drag of his cock slow and delicious, before he’s pressing it back in, filling you up once again. you feel the wet patch on his pants and his boxers, and your cheeks burn when you catalogue it as your mess. 

but god, you want more. 

“harder, si,” you mewl, weak hands coming up to tangle in his messy hair. “i want it harder.”

simon braces his arms on either side of your head, his nose rubbing along your damp cheeks until he’s pulling back just enough that you see the way his eyes are blown wide with his lust.

“anythin’ for you, sweetheart.”

 he kisses your cheek – the last of his gentleness for the night.

“anythin’.”

[nashusglasses]

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦◦◦.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦ note 1. my bestie and i were talking about sylus and we came to a mutual conclusion: he's mean in bed but you're just soooo into it!!!!!! (,,>ࡇ<,,) note 2: anyway you ever just think about how he'd take care of his defiant brat??? this fic is a result of wondering how sylus would try to coax you into letting him take care of you...... but like........ meanly :3..... (spoiler: he gives into you every!!!! time!!!) drabble requests for snowcrow = OK! PAIRING. sylus/reader WARNINGS. brat tamer!sylus, pussy slapping, light choking, spitting. sylus POV SUMMARY. He just wants to make sure you're okay.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦◦◦.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“You still won’t talk to me?” He feels you huff. Five almost-orgasms in and somehow your tongue is still clipped with anger you refuse to tell him about. Sylus is almost proud that you’re so steadfast, but he knows you. You just want to be coddled. 

He can’t have that. So he slaps you hard where your clit is taut, and you shriek. “I’ll give it to you,” he says, then delivers another swift smack. You’re trembling hard in his lap, so close to coming, but he’s nowhere near thinking of forgiveness. “If you just tell me what’s wrong.”

You shake your head. “Don’ wanna.”

Sylus is sure you’re staining his silk sheets with your slick. On another night he’d hold you by the back of your neck and force you to lick it all up. Wet lips, the curl of your tongue – for a brief moment, he thinks about fucking you so hard into the mattress all you can smell is fresh sheets and your own pussy. One thing about you that he loves: your near-constant need for him to have his hands on you. 

He teases two fingers inside you, your back arching off his chest with a broken moan. When you wiggle your hips to get him deeper, he clicks his teeth.

“Don’t be greedy.” Two harsh slaps to your cunt. You whimper. “You’re doing this to yourself.”

“Am not–”

With his other hand, he pries at your chin, forcing your gaze onto his. “If you talk back one more time, you’re getting punished. Do you understand me?”

He watches you contemplate his words. Your eyes glaze over the way they do when you’re getting what you want, thrumming with a different energy when he’s goading you into obedience. Like you’d been waiting for this the whole night, and he’s almost embarrassed to be playing into your hand so easily. 

You mouth at his hand, and he lets up on his grip enough for you to tongue two fingers into spit-wet heat. Sylus tries (and fails) to hide a shiver when you suck down to his knuckles. “Mhm,” you answer quietly.

Jesus fuck. That’s not the answer he wants. But you’re hell-bent on testing him tonight, and he doesn’t think he can keep going without cracking at the edges. 

He lets you lave on his skin, teeth scratching a threat. Not hard enough for blood but enough to feel him get harder under your ass. And just as you’re about to leave a deeper indent with your canines, Sylus sinks three fingers inside your weeping hole.

Your eyes widen. He sees fear turn straight into carnal desire. “Ngh–!”

“Open your mouth,” he demands. You do exactly as you’re told, and he grabs at your cheeks to hold you still. He sucks till he’s got a wad of stringy saliva on his tongue, then spits straight down your throat. You swallow like the good girl you are, and Sylus feels every hard part of himself crumble to pieces.

He traces a slow nail down your jaw, watches you heave with every thrust he drills inside. “I want you to come,” he orders. His palm isn’t a heavy weight on your throat, but the anticipation still has you freezing. “Do not close your eyes. Understood?”

You nod. He tightens his fingers till you gasp. “Use your words,” he growls.

“I understand,” you whine, dragging into an even more pathetic sound when Sylus fingers a rhythm so harsh your legs start shaking. You’re so warm around him. He angles the heel of his palm to smack your neglected clit just how you like it, and something cruel inside him preens when your eyes roll back. “Oh fuck–!”

“Come on, sweetie,” Sylus drawls. “Eyes. On. Me.”

He beats every syllable with sticky motion, and in the corner of his vision he sees your toes curling. You struggle with hazy focus, blinking tears away. Sylus fights every instinct to console you; he knows that’s not what you need. 

“S-Sylus– I’m– God I’m–!”

He leaves a gentle kiss on your nose, and fucks you through a body-wrecking orgasm so strong you’re wailing, eyes trained right on him. Your core tightens, releases, begs, expels – his wrist is soaked. He doesn’t stop fucking you till you’re sobbing through another high.

“No more, no more, p-please,” you mutter, clawing at his hand. He’s almost sad to leave such sweet heat, but now you’re crying, and he’s got both hands cupped around your cheeks to pepper you with kisses.

(He’ll apologize for touching your face with cunt-wet fingers later.) 

“You’re amazing,” is all he says. You smile for the first time this evening. His heart squeezes.

[jupiter-letters]

Having thoughts about Husband!Art and his hands...

A/N: A little fic this weepy eyed blonde boy, I watched challengers yesterday and I'm obsessed.I need Art like carnally. People being hot in movies is so back dude. This was written with a fem!reader(afab, no other physical description will be written) in mind. This is my first attempt at smut so go easy on me I beg.🙏🏽

Word count: 1476

TW: Sexu*l content, f*ngering, reader just having a rough day in general.

divider cred || palestine links

One of the things that attracted you to your husband was his hands. The way his muscles in his hands tighten when he grips his racket, how he holds his coffee mug when takes a sip of coffee in the morning and the way they glide against your skin when you make love.

After having a difficult day he'd like to put those hands to use for you as he so often loves to do....

You walk into your home and make a beeline toward your bathroom, you need to get the grime of the day off you. You don't even notice Art on his laptop on the couch, he was about to greet you before he saw the look on your face. He just watches you kick off your shoes and drop your bag on the floor. You always greet him when you get home but he can tell it's been one of those days. He shuts his laptop off and the tv then makes his way to your bedroom. He spots your scattered clothes all over the floor and hears the roar of the bathtub's spout coming to life.

Art leans up against the door to hear what you might be doing, he hesitates before knocking on the door. "Baby?" The sound of running water stops and he hears a small tired voice answer, "Come in.." He opens the door to the sight of you naked and bare, head down in front of the mirror. He looks at you for a moment and turns his eyes to the floor as he shuts the bathroom door behind him. You turn your head toward him but avoid his eyes, he doesn't force you to meet his gaze.

  Art moves behind you in silence and touches your shoulders just to test the waters of how much you're willing to be touched at this moment. You accept it, not moving away but not leaning into it. He wraps his body around you and kisses your shoulders. He kisses up to the  back of your neck. "You wanna talk about it?", he asks as you take a moment to answer such a simple question. You just shake your head, still silent, you do turn around and look up at him. He looks into your eyes, a silent understanding takes over him. "Ok." He whispers, Art moves over to the bathtub and turns the knob back on. He goes to the sink cabinet and grabs some bubble bath. He pours some of the liquid in the water and glides in his hand in the water to make sure the temperature's perfect for you. Once the tub is full you step inside and breathe a sigh of relief. The sweet smell of the bubbles and the warm water expels the tension from your body. Art kneels next the tub, he crosses his arms over the rim and lays his head on his forearms. He gives you a small smile and you return it, you both gaze at each other in quiet admiration. Art takes a hand and caresses your knee with such tenderness, the feeling of his lithe fingers brings you such comfort.

 He moves his body forward and moves his hand further down your thigh looking at you for permission to keep going. You nod your head looking at him expectantly wondering what he was planning to do. Very slowly he slides his hand into the water in between your thighs, eyes laser focused on his own actions. You can feel him gently part your folds, using his index and middle finger to stroke your clit. He moves them slowly up and down, ghosting your entrance. Art looks back up at you when he hears you gasp quietly, he smiles again at the sound. “You want some more baby? Don’t worry I’ll give it to you, I’m gonna take care of you.” he purrs at you, but you won’t get what you want so quickly, he lives to tease you. He adds more pressure to your bud and rubs in more circular motions. Your breath quickens and you lull your head to the side pressing against the tub's rim. He stops for a moment just to move closer to your head so he can kiss your cheek and move onto your lips. You position your body closer to his head and crane your head to taste his lips more. Art continues stroking your clit, rubbing and pinching it between his fingers. He swallows every gasp, groan and whimper you make, stretching the muscles in his neck as far as he can to reach your mouth. The sensation of him touching you and the heat from the water has covered your body in a light sheen of moisture, everything about you is so wet and pliant. He finally feels that you’re ready to take his fingers, he stops kissing you. He wants to look in your eyes as he slides them, he wants to see your mouth part and hear a raspy moan slip from your lips. 

 There’s nothing Art loves more than the look of dazed bliss you get when he’s inside of your body. As he prods your entrance he watches you closely, “Sweetheart look at me…” ,he murmurs. You look up at him, hungry and waiting, the moment you do he slides his fingers eliciting a high pitched moan from you, mouthing widening in pleasure. He continues his slow pace, you can feel the metal of his wedding ring brush up against your lips as he pushes his fingers deeper. He leaves kisses all over your face before returning to your lips, smiling into the kiss. He opens his eyes for a moment to see your legs writhing and clenching around his hand when he curls his fingers every so slightly. The sight makes his arousal even stronger than before, a small wet spot makes its appearance in his sweatpants.  He wouldn’t even need to touch himself, the sight alone of you slowly reaching your peak is enough to make him cum all on his own. The tension in your core continues to build, Art notices you shuddering and finally lets you have what you want. He puts his fingers in as far as he can and makes a scissoring gesture along with curling them pressing into your g-spot at random. As he does this it becomes harder to focus on his mouth devouring you and mind begins to go blank. You grip your hands onto his forearm and shoulder to anchor yourself. He angles his head to kiss the underside of your jaw while he increases his pace. The water in the tub starts to move violently as your body shakes and your legs thrash. You make the attempt to kiss Art again but are overwhelmed by the sounds that escape your mouth, he lets you moan into his mouth keeping his eyes closed and savoring the sounds. One final beckon of his fingers sends you over the edge, tilting your head back, orgasm rippling throughout your body. Art nuzzles his nose against yours and presses his forehead to yours. 

It’s a full minute before he pulls his fingers out of you, when he does he drags his hand up and over your stomach. Between your breasts and glides up the side of your neck, he takes his thumb and caresses your lips before sliding them into his mouth. He smiles down at you and giggles. You laugh with him, “What?” you ask curiously. “I was supposed to help you get clean, not sweaty,” he says with a grin. You laugh again at his statement, “Well…it doesn’t matter, I do feel better now.” He smiles and kisses your forehead, he moves over to the towel holder on the wall and grabs one for you. You wipe some of the suds off you before you stand to be embraced by him with the towel. While he holds you, you notice he’s still hard. You look at him surprised, “You want me to take care of that?” He looks down as if he forgot too. “Oh! No baby it’s ok, I wanted this to be all about you, don’t worry about me.” he tells you softly. His statement makes you soften even more, you step out of the tub next to him. You take the towel from him and wrap it around yourself. “Thank you Art, I mean it. I really needed that.” You take his face into your hand and kiss his lips. “Of course, these hands aren’t just good at tennis y’know. You can use them anytime you want.” he replies smugly. You jokingly push his face away and make your way out of the bathroom looking back at him with a smile. He follows close behind and shuts the door behind him.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff. ♡

[blackleatherjacketz]

All Better

Eric Northman x Female Reader

Summary: You miss a meeting because you're sick, and Eric makes a house call to make you feel better.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Eric being Eric, Strep Throat, Antibiotics, Shoving, Blaming, Kissing, Glamoring, Hypnotizing, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Healing Vampire Blood, Blood Drinking, Biting, Vampirism, Nipple Play, Licking, Cunnilingus, Female Orgasm

Read more Eric!

“You don’t look very good.” Eric states the obvious as his brows knit together in a look of, wait a minute, is that… concern that you’re seeing on his face? It must be the medication you’re on that’s blurring your vision and dulling your senses, because you’re pretty sure that ‘concern’ isn’t in Eric Northman’s emotional repertoire. “What’s wrong with you?”

It isn’t until he pushes you up against the wall, staring at your pale face as beads of sweat run down your temples that he understands why you didn’t show up to Fangtasia tonight or bother answering your phone when he called. The realization of your illness slowly melts that concerned look of his into a stoic expression of understanding, allowing his pupils to expand just the slightest bit before his lips part in silence.

“I’m just sick, it’s nothing.” You try to look away from him, tempted to fall back into your old habit of isolating yourself when falling ill, only he grabs hold of your chin to prevent that from happening.

“Sick, how?” That sense of understanding gets washed away in a flash, his brief display of genuine emotion quickly covered up by his usual curt and cutting tone.

“It’s just an infection, I know I should have called, I just didn’t think you’d…”

“Didn’t think I’d what?” He tightens his grip on your chin, bringing his face closer to yours. “Didn’t think I’d notice that my favorite human wasn’t there to greet me tonight?”

Favorite human? Did you hear that right? You can’t help but raise your eyebrows in surprise as he admits it out loud, albeit through gritted teeth.

“I was too weak to drive out there, I…” You mutter as his cool grip on your face chills you even more, forcing your body to shiver in its febrile state.

“Then let me heal you.” He offers, his eyes scanning over your shaking form before he brings his wrist up to his mouth.

“What?” Your arrangement with Eric has always been very simple; you show up once a week to let him feed on you and he pays you enough money to cover your mortgage each month. It had never been more than that though, never crossed any other carnal line despite your secret desire for more intimacy with him. He had never once offered you his own blood before, and the idea of it still kind of scares you, if you’re being honest with yourself. “Heal me?”

“So you won’t be sick anymore.” He loosens his grip on your face, his hand falling loosely around your neck.

“I’m on antibiotics, Eric, I don’t need your blood.” You attempt to walk away from him but he places his palm flat across your chest, forcing you back into position against the wall. Even his restrained amount of strength is too much for your weakened muscles to withstand as you wince in pain.

“Let me heal you.” He stares into your eyes, accessing your subconscious mind as you can’t help but stare right back, too tired to put up any sort of emotional barrier between the two of you. You’ve seen him do this to others before, convincing them to do whatever he wanted, whether that be to pay him back, run away or even kill someone for him. You just never thought he’d do it to you.

“Okay,” You hear yourself whisper almost immediately before taking his hand and leading him to the couch at the far end of your living room. You watch him sit down as if he’s already been there dozens of times before, as if he’s lived there with you already, as if he owns the place. You feel him pull you onto his lap, guiding your hips and thighs so that you’re now straddling him in the middle of your couch as his hands carefully smooth their way up your back.

“You’re shivering.” He grins as you settle into him, your pelvis slowly rocking against his hips as his hands find their way into your hair. “I can fix that.”

“Yeah?” As scary as the idea of drinking his blood is, the thought of letting this feverish hell continue any longer seems way worse.

“Let me take care of you.” Eric fumbles through the random items on the side table closest to him until he finds something sharp at his disposal: a ball point pen. He pushes the cap off with his thumb, smiles up at you before jabbing the pen into his neck so quickly, you barely have a chance to register what’s happening before he pulls you in closer. “Now, drink.”

You gasp as your heart races in a confused sense of horror, watching droplets of his blood ooze out of his wound and down the porcelain skin of his neck. Your lips begin to tremble as his fingers weave their way into your hair, pushing your mouth in closer to his throat as you attempt to fight your body’s natural panic response.

“Drink.” He instructs again, only this time more sternly.

Having no other choice but to do as you’re told, you open your mouth and lick the droplets of blood from his neck as he continues to hold you in place. It tastes a little better than you thought it would, a sort of salty mixture with hints of iron and blackberry wine that leaves a surprisingly pleasant aftertaste on the back of your tongue. Kind of like a rich Cabernet.

Well, that’s not so bad, now is it?

You open up again and start down at his clavicle this time, making sure to clean up any remnants of the fluid until you get all the way up to the puncture site, greedily suckling straight from the source. You can hear him moan as you lap him up, feel his grip on your hair tighten as you consume him, getting lost in the closeness of your bodies and the binding of your fluids. You’re sure that he can hear your heart beating wildly inside your chest, thumping hard against his as you wrap your arms around his torso to get even closer to him. You can feel his blood working inside you, healing you on a cellular level; each vampiric red blood cell eradicating any bacteria into oblivion as the weakness leaves your muscles and the pain dissipates from your throat.

“Enough,” he whispers reluctantly, now having to pull your mouth off him. “That’s enough, sweetheart.”

His words barely bring you out of your trance, his salty flesh no longer beneath your tongue as he tugs on your scalp to get you to finally stop drinking. It’s almost as if you’ve been brought back to reality after having one of the most intense dreams you’ve ever had as you watch his wound heal just as quickly as he had made it. You’ll never get used to that.

“It worked.” You exclaim gratefully. “I feel better!”

“I told you.” Eric grins as he runs his thumb across your bottom lip, reminding you that you’ve made quite the mess of yourself. “This is why you have to let me take care of you.”

“I’m not very good at that.” You’ve always had to take care of yourself in the past. One lesson that life has taught you time and time again is that the second you start depending on someone is the very moment that you’ll be disappointed.

“I know, but you have to let me do it anyway.” His eyelids drop halfway down as he looks at you longingly, gazing upon you in a way that you’ve never noticed before.

Maybe it’s that look, or maybe it’s the high of his blood now coursing through your veins that makes you suddenly feel compelled to press your lips against his, letting that vampiric confidence guide your actions. You keep them there for a few seconds, realizing that he isn’t pulling away from you, but instead is kissing you back with just as much enthusiasm as he pulls tighter on your scalp.

You’ve always wanted to kiss him, from the very first moment that you saw him. But something about him told you that he had women throwing themselves at his feet left and right; and you didn’t want to be like one of them. You were just grateful for the little contact you got when he fed upon you each week. You relished every caress of your cheek, every squeeze of your waist that sent shivers down your spine before he ended up drinking his fill. You never thought that he’d be interested in you like this, that he’d actually want you in that type of way at all.

However, his tongue now parts your lips as his kiss intensifies, all but moaning the truth into your mouth as if he’s been waiting just as long to finally taste your lips. His kiss is desperate and sloppy, so different from the perfectly put together business man you first met that night at the bar. His composure casually crumbles to pieces as his hands travel all over your body, frantically grasping onto your muscles until they find themselves in your hair again, his lips curling into a deviously satisfied smirk.

You feel him grow beneath his jeans, his clothed member now brushing against the thin fabric of your underwear as his hips needily writhe against your junction. His deliberate movements trigger that moisture to collect between your thighs as he continues his rhythm upward with several shallow breaths. Now stained in his own blood, his mouth ventures over every inch of your lips and chin before moving down to your jawline, licking a trail alongside your pulse.

You whimper in response, grinding your needy center against him as you brace yourself for the bite that never comes. Instead he lifts your shirt up over your head, exposing your bare breasts to the cool temperature of the room as your nipples harden in front of his face.

“You’ve been holding out on me.” He teases, letting go of the rest of you so he can graze his palms across them, sending a much more intense tingling sensation down your spine.

“I didn’t know that you wanted to…” Your breath hitches as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard before wrapping his arms behind you and turning you on your back. He keeps contact with your skin the entire time, pulling on your sensitive tissue as he looks up at you with those eyes again, dragging your tender bud in between his teeth.

“Really?” He laughs with a smirk. He moves on to the next one before popping it into his mouth while pinching the other, sending a barrage of little fireworks into your skin. “You think I make feeding contracts lightly?”

“No, I uhh…” Your back arches toward the ceiling as he sucks bursts of delight into your tissues, humming a sweet vibration against your skin as you all but melt beneath him. Pleasure being the last sensation you expect to get from Eric’s mouth, you can’t help but feel a little breathless as his fingers simultaneously tug your underwear down your hips as they instinctively lift off the couch cushion to aid in their removal. “It’s hard for me to tell sometimes.”

“You thought I didn’t want you?” He licks a languid path down your quaking abdomen as your muscles contract in hurried anticipation, beads of sweat popping up in his wake. He circles around your navel with his tongue, kissing a hungry trail down your pelvis while his hands help slide your panties off your calves and feet. He smiles and spreads your thighs as far apart as they can go, straining your muscles as he stares at you like a jungle cat would its prey before it pounces. “Looks like I could be a better communicator.”

His fangs drop and his eyes darken, wasting no time in settling between your thighs to take the bite you were wondering would ever come at all. Instead of sinking his fangs into your femoral artery to get the most blood in the least amount of time, though, he bites you just above your swollen center. He laughs as you yelp from the piercing pain, letting that red hot fluid spill down your already dripping wet seam before he dives in to finally taste it.

That cold, blood-thirsty vampire that you’ve known for the past few weeks finally comes out as he starts licking streaks of crimson up and down your puffy lips, spreading the blood and gore into your folds as his tongue delivers that tantalizing balance of pain and pleasure that you’ve only read about in books. He growls like the creature of the night that he is as he devours you, snaking his arms beneath your thighs to pull you in even closer as his mouth delves into your flesh. Unable to be sated, he flicks his tongue up and down your sensitive clit, sending signals of ecstasy up through your spine and into your brain as your eyes flutter with visions of shapes and colors you never knew existed.

Maybe it’s the vampire blood pumping through your veins for the very first time, or maybe it’s Eric’s skilled mouth that forces your eyes to roll back into your head. The way he keeps eating and drinking makes it feel as if each and every tiny hair on your skin is now alive, standing on end waiting for him to touch them, to give them permission to explode until your entire body begins to shake. You reach out for him in vain as the otherworldly sense of euphoria washes over you, forcing every muscle in your body to convulse in rhythmic waves as he relentlessly drinks from your bloody cunt. He glances up at you only to grin as your skin changes color, warming and cooling in phases as your orgasm violently works its way through your skin and bones and finally out of your mouth.

“Eric!” You cry out as he finally pulls back from you, licking his lips as you rattle and hum in the crimson mess he’s made of you. “Oh my God, Eric!”

“See?” He smirks as he watches you come down from your hormonal high, running your hands through his hair as he finally gives your bloody center one last lick. “All better.”

[mandoalorian]

the making of a king [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: As Congressman Barnes steps into the political arena, he realises the battle for power is only just beginning. As he claims his place in the race, unseen forces move against him—forces that know exactly where to strike. The war for the presidency isn’t just about policy. It’s about control. And the only way to control Bucky Barnes… is through you.

Word Count: 6380

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content, employer x employee, anal, fingering, m recieving oral, buttplay/butt stuff, bucky eats ass, f recieving oral, biting, canon typical plot devices and politics

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

The soft hum of the kitchen fan filled the quiet safe house as you moved around, fixing lunch for Bucky. After the intense, heated moment you’d shared earlier, your body still buzzed with warmth, but your mind was steady, content. He sat at the small dining table, watching you with that quiet, observant gaze of his, elbows resting on the wooden surface as his vibranium fingers drummed lightly against the grain.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said, voice low and rough from the weight of the morning.

You glanced over your shoulder, catching the way his gaze softened when you met it. “I know,” you teased, “but someone’s gotta take care of you. And I like it being me.”

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head, but he didn’t argue. You finished plating the sandwiches and set them down in front of him, taking the seat beside him. For a moment, it was just the sound of the cutlery scraping against the plate, the occasional clink of a glass being set down. The moment felt… domestic. Safe. But there was something lingering in the air—something unspoken.

Bucky was the one to break the silence. “How are you feeling?”

You wiped your mouth with a napkin, looking at him. “Better,” you admitted. “I think I just needed a moment to breathe.”

His jaw tensed, but he nodded, accepting your answer. It wasn’t what he meant. “And… about Russia?”

You hesitated, setting down your cutlery and thinking hard. “I wish I could tell you more, but… I don’t remember anything.” Your brows furrowed. “It’s weird. I know I was there, but it’s like someone took an eraser to my memory and just… wiped it clean.”

Bucky’s grip tightened on his fork. He set it down with a deliberate motion and leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly through his nose. “That’s not normal,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. Your admission sent shivers running down Bucky’s spine, and naturally, he thought about all the times he was put into cryo, every time he came close to remembering something he shouldn't have. And then, he’d wake up, be activated, and have no recollection of his life prior. It was haunting. 

You reached for his hand, your fingers sliding over the cool vibranium. “I know. But I’m okay now.”

Bucky didn’t look convinced, but he let it go.

When you finished eating, you stretched your arms over your head. “Alright, time for me to get dressed for the press conference.”

Bucky’s expression shifted immediately. “You’re not coming.”

You blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“I need you to stay here,” he said firmly. “It’s not safe.”

Your lips parted, caught between offense and understanding. “Bucky—”

He reached for his phone, already dialing. “Yelena’s gonna come keep you company.”

You groaned. “So, I don’t even get a say in this?”

He arched a brow. “No.”

You crossed your arms, sighing dramatically. “The assistant in me wants to fight you for taking away my work duties,” you admitted, tilting your head. “But the girlfriend in me…” Your voice softened as you reached out, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Well, she doesn’t want to do anything that would make you unhappy.”

You were really starting to like this domestic life with Bucky; a life that you never believed would have suited you. You loved waking up in his arms, basking in the morning glow of the sun. You loved cooking for him and having the house clean for when he gets home. Of course you missed going to work, those late nights spent in the office with the Congressman, but you would have never expected to love this calm and quiet life even more. Bucky took care of you, and made you feel good, and you found pleasure in doing the same for him. 

Bucky’s lips twitched, and then he leaned in, catching your mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hand came up, fingers sliding through your hair, tilting your head so he could kiss you deeper, longer.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’ll be back soon.”

You exhaled softly. “You better be.”

He smirked, squeezing your waist before stepping back. “Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone.”

You huffed. “No promises.”

And with that, he slipped out of the door to the safehouse and out into the street. His personal driver was waiting for him a few blocks away, as usual, and as Bucky navigated New York’s bustling nature, he thought about you.

This fight wasn’t even about him anymore, it was about you. He wouldn’t let Hydra take away the most important thing in his life; but when you said you couldn’t remember, and when he saw you get injected with that unnaturally dark, syrupy serum, his stomach twisted. As Bucky slipped into the back of the car, his phone vibrated.

Bruce: I have Ross’ serum. I’ll be handing it over to Sam later today. Best of luck with this, Buck. You know you got my support. 

Bucky sighed an air of relief as the car spun down the road. He closed his eyes, thinking over the press conference, thinking over his life. Bucky’s life was cruel and long, filled with chaos and misadventure, from getting unwillingly drafted in the war, to spending seventy years in captivity, to being freed and forced to take time to recover, learning to navigate a world where he was hated. Feared, even. Entering the world of politics came as a surprise for Bucky too, but he was so glad he did, for if it wasn’t for being a member of Congress, he would have never have gotten this close to you. 

The air was thick with anticipation as the press conference began. The White House briefing room was packed—journalists squeezed shoulder to shoulder, cameras flashing, recorders held high. The entire world was watching.

Bucky watched from the sidelines. “Relax man,” Sam Wilson appeared out of nowhere, placing his palm flat against Bucky’s back. Bucky breathed an air of relief and turned to his friend who was doting the full red, white and blue hero get up. Bucky stifled a laugh.

“Nice outfit.” He sniggered.

Sam rolled his eyes, which were shaded by red tinged goggles. “Well someone had to go save the world before attending this conference,” he said sarcastically. “When duty calls.”

“Did Banner get the serum to you?” Bucky asked quietly.

Sam nodded silently. “I will deliver the package to him after the conference, on the condition that Ross does what is right.”

Bucky nodded knowingly and as the loud introductory music started playing, Bucky and Sam watched eagerly as Thaddeus Ross walked onto the stage. There was no telling how this was going to go. 

At the podium, President Ross stood stiffly, his hands gripping the sides like a man awaiting his own sentencing. His face was drawn, lined with exhaustion. He cleared his throat, the microphone amplifying the small sound before he finally spoke.

“Good afternoon,” he began, his voice steady but worn. “I stand before you today not as a leader, but as a man who has made mistakes. Grave mistakes.”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room. Bucky stood off to the side, back in the shadows, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Ross continued. “For years, I have served this country under the illusion of control. But I was never in control—not truly. Hydra was.”

The room erupted into shocked whispers, cameras flashing at a rapid pace. Ross was really doing it. He was telling his truth and reaffirming everything that Bucky had come out with. 

Ross held up a hand, silencing them. “I was a pawn, manipulated and coerced through means I do not wish upon any man. Their reach… it extended further than I ever imagined. And because of my weakness, because of my inability to fight back, I allowed their influence to fester within our government.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened as he watched Ross shift, his grip tightening on the podium.

“I will not stand here and pretend I am blameless,” Ross admitted. “But I will not allow Hydra to win. Effective immediately, I am stepping down as President of the United States.”

The room was chaos. Shouted questions overlapped, journalists scrambling to process the breaking news.

Ross exhaled, his shoulders sagging. “Before I go, I must do one last thing. I owe an apology to this nation. To every citizen I have failed. And to my daughter… Betty.”

A hush fell over the crowd. Ross’ eyes glistened, but he held himself together. “I know that stepping down does not absolve me, nor does it erase the damage done. But I promise you this—Hydra will fall. And I place my faith in the man beside me to make that happen.”

Ross turned to Bucky. “Sergeant Barnes.”

The weight of the moment was heavy as Bucky stepped forward. He and Ross exchanged a nod—one of reluctant respect, of understanding.

Ross leaned closer. “I sent you the coordinates,” he muttered under his breath.

Bucky gave the barest of nods before taking his place at the podium. Ross stepped back, the former President now just a man walking away from the mess he helped create.

Bucky let the room settle before he spoke. “I’m not here to clean up Ross’ mess,” he stated plainly. “I’m here to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

A tension-filled silence stretched across the room.

“For years, Hydra has hidden in the shadows, manipulating governments, infiltrating organizations, and turning good men into weapons. No more.” His voice was firm, resolute. “This country deserves transparency. It deserves leaders who will fight for them, not control them.”

A journalist raised their hand. “And do you believe President Ross was one of those controlled men?”

Bucky met their gaze. “Yes,” he said simply. “Ross acted under duress. But let me make one thing clear—this is not me defending him. This is me stating the truth. If we are to dismantle Hydra, we need to understand their reach. Their tactics. Their power.”

More voices piped up, more questions fired. Then, one cut through the noise.

“Congressman Barnes—will you be running for President?”

The room fell silent.

It was the question the world had been asking; the question that had hounded Bucky for days. It had been all over social media, the theories and conspiracies…

Bucky’s lips parted slightly, caught off guard for the first time. His steel-blue eyes narrowed, scanning the sea of eager faces. “Is that what you people want?” His question was almost timid as he measured it up in his head.

A roar of agreement surged through the crowd.

Bucky exhaled, staring at the podium as if he was weighing the weight of the world. Then, he straightened his spine and looked up.

“Then consider this my official announcement.”

The briefing room was in chaos. Ross had stepped down. Hydra’s grip on the government was exposed. And now—Bucky Barnes had just announced his candidacy for President of the United States.

The roar of journalists was deafening. Everyone wanted answers.

Bucky stood firm at the podium, gripping the edges like a man holding his ground in a battlefield. He let the noise settle just enough before he spoke again.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” he said, his voice calm but unwavering. “What qualifies me to lead? I’m not a politician. I don’t have a history in government. What I have is a history of fighting against tyranny. And I promise you, I will not stop until Hydra is wiped from every corner of this world.”

The flashes of cameras made the room flicker like a storm of lightning. Hands shot up, but Bucky wasn’t finished.

“I won’t turn my back on Ross,” he continued, his tone firm. “Despite his mistakes, despite the past, I will stand by him. Because I know what it’s like to be used. To have your actions dictated by someone else’s agenda. He may have worn the title of President, but he was never truly in control. And that’s exactly what Hydra wanted.”

Another uproar. A cacophony of voices. But this time, Bucky motioned toward the crowd. “Go ahead. Ask.”

The first journalist jumped in immediately. “Congressman Barnes, do you truly believe President Ross is a victim in all of this?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched slightly before he answered. “I believe in accountability. But I also believe in the truth. Ross was manipulated, same as I was. You all know what Hydra did to me. How they used me. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the world isn’t black and white. So no—I’m not absolving him. But I am choosing to protect him. Because that’s what I do.”

More questions fired at once.

“Speaking of your past—how can the American people trust a man once known as the Winter Soldier?”

Bucky exhaled slowly. “Because I am not the Winter Soldier. Not anymore.” His vibranium fingers flexed against the podium. “That name—it was given to me by Hydra. It was their way of erasing the man I used to be. But I fought my way back. And now I choose who I am.” His blue eyes scanned the room, daring anyone to challenge him. “I am James Buchanan Barnes. And I will fight for this country until my last breath.”

Another journalist cut in. “What about Russia? What happened there? Reports suggest you were involved in classified operations. Can you confirm or deny?”

Bucky’s face remained unreadable. “I can confirm that I was there. And I can confirm that Hydra’s reach extends far beyond what any of us realized. But details of that mission? That’s not information I can disclose just yet. What I can tell you is that we uncovered evidence that changes everything.”

Murmurs spread through the press.

Someone else shouted, “What about Steve Rogers? Do you think he’d support this decision?”

Bucky’s lips pressed together at the mention of Steve’s name. He tilted his head slightly, thinking. Then, he smirked—just barely. “I think Steve would’ve laughed his ass off if he knew I was standing here.” A small chuckle rippled through the room. “But yeah. I think he’d be proud.”

Another journalist jumped in. “Your past isn’t just linked to Hydra. You have… a complicated history. Criminal accusations, past assassinations, war crimes—”

Bucky’s smirk disappeared. His expression turned stone-cold.

“I’ve answered for my past,” he said evenly. “Every crime, every action I took under Hydra’s control—I have spent years making amends. You think I don’t live with it? You think I don’t remember every name, every face?” His voice hardened. “But let’s get one thing straight. I will never be controlled again.”

The room stilled.

Then, the next question came. And this one was personal.

“Congressman Barnes — we just love your relationship with your assistant. But don’t you think your candidacy as president will endanger her?”

Bucky’s fingers drummed against the podium. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced down, lips twitching slightly before looking back up. “Next question.”

The journalists weren’t having it.

“Come on, Congressman Barnes—" “Is it true she was taken by Hydra?” “There are photos of you two—" “Are you together?” “Is she safe?”

Bucky’s smirk faded. His jaw clenched as his eyes swept across the sea of reporters, his patience thinning. Finally, he spoke. And his voice was low. Steady.

“She is none of your concern.”

Another stunned silence.

Then, a final question rang through the room.

“Congressman Barnes, you’ve spent your life as a soldier. You’ve fought wars, toppled regimes, dismantled Hydra’s operations. But can you lead a country?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly. He let the question settle, let the weight of it press against his chest.

Then, he exhaled. “I don’t have all the answers,” he admitted. “I won’t stand here and pretend I’m some perfect candidate. But what I do know is this—I will fight for this country. Not as a soldier. Not as a weapon. But as a man who refuses to let history repeat itself.”

His voice dropped lower, rougher. “I won’t let them take control again. Not while I’m still breathing.”

With that, he stepped away from the podium.

The room exploded.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The sound of fists meeting padded mitts echoed through the safe house’s underground training room. The air was thick with exertion, each strike sharp and precise. You threw a jab, followed by a cross, then a sharp kick. Yelena barely flinched, catching your movements with ease.

“Again,” she ordered.

You rolled your shoulders, exhaling before launching another attack. This time, Yelena let your fist hit the mitt before twisting, knocking you off balance with a quick leg sweep. You hit the mat with a sharp thud.

“You punch like my guinea pig," Yelena commented, standing over you. "If I was someone else, you’d be dead."

You groaned, pushing yourself up. “What does that even mean: I ‘punch like your guniea pig’?”

She smirked. “I don’t know, but it’s not good. I’m alive, which is more than I can say for you if you keep fighting like that."

You shot her a glare but took the offered hand, letting her yank you to your feet. “You’re annoying.”

Yelena circled you, assessing. "Something feels… off about you."

You frowned. "Off how?"

She tilted her head, scrutinizing. "You’ve always been strong, but now? It’s like you’re holding back without realising it. The way you’re fighting… it’s like something has shifted.”

Your stomach twisted. "That doesn’t make sense."

"Doesn’t it?" Yelena mused. Then, in a flash, she lunged.

Instinct kicked in before thought. Your body moved on its own—ducking, twisting, countering—until you caught her wrist, yanked her forward, and threw her.

Hard.

Yelena slammed against the mat with a force that sent a tremor through the room.

Silence.

You blinked, breathing heavy, realising what you’d done.

Yelena just laid there for a moment, stunned. Then, she laughed. "Oh. Shit."

You took a step back. "I—I didn’t mean to do that."

Yelena sat up, rubbing her spine. "Well, damn, sweetheart. If you wanted to kill me, you could have just said so."

Panic fluttered in your chest. You weren’t supposed to be that strong. That wasn’t—

Yelena squinted at you. "Okay. New plan."

She shot to her feet and before you could react, she grabbed a 25-pound weight plate from the rack and tossed it at you.

Your hands snapped up instinctively—catching it with zero struggle.

Yelena whistled. "Okay. Yeah. That’s not normal."

Your heart pounded as you slowly lowered the weight. "It’s just adrenaline," you insisted. You swallowed hard, setting the weight down like it was nothing.

Yelena crossed her arms. "So… when were you planning on telling Bucky that you’re basically a baby super-soldier now?"

You bit your lip. "I—I don’t think it’s anything. I’ve just been training harder."

"Yeah, no," Yelena deadpanned. "That’s not training. That’s serum level strength, babe. And unless you’ve been hitting the gym like Captain America on steroids, I think you need to face the fact that something is very wrong."

You stared at your hands, flexing your fingers. They felt the same. You felt the same.

But Yelena was right.

Something was off.

Before you could spiral, your phone buzzed on the bench nearby. You reached for it, flipping it open.

Bucky: I have news. Be home in 20 minutes.

You: Good news? I hope.

Bucky: Wear something I can tear off you.

You could almost hear his dark, gravelly chuckle through the phone.

Yelena groaned again, grabbing her water bottle. You hadn’t realised she was watching you text. “Is this your new thing? I didn’t know Bucky had it in him to sext. I’m impressed, I think.”

You slipped your phone into your pocket and shook your head, heat flushing your cheeks with embarrassment. “Hardly sexting.” You muttered.

“Alright, whatever. I’m leaving before he gets home. Try not to break the bed with your new freakish strength."

You shot her a glare. "Shut up."

She winked. "See you tomorrow, baby Hulk."

Then, she was gone.

And you were left staring at your phone, heart hammering, knowing that in just a few minutes… Bucky Barnes would be walking through that door.

And you’d be waiting for him.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You adjusted the strap of your black lace lingerie, a different set to what you were wearing yesterday, exhaling as you checked yourself in the mirror. The dim lighting cast soft shadows over your skin, the anticipation humming through you like a live wire. You painted your lips a crimson red and looked at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t usually one to be modest; but you looked incredible. 

Bucky’s text was still burning in your mind.

Wear something I can tear off you.

Your stomach tightened, heat spreading through your chest at the sheer authority in his words.

And then—

The sound of the front door unlocking sent a jolt of excitement straight through you.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. The air in the room shifted, like it knew he was here.

Then, Bucky stepped into the doorway, holding a boquet of roses in the crook of his elbow and a small, teal blue Tiffany’s giftbag.

And when he saw you, sat at your vanity, he froze.

His ocean-blue eyes dragged over you, slow and devouring, like he was drinking in every inch of your body. His suit jacket hung open, his tie loosened like he’d ripped it off in the car, his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the solid steel of his forearm.

And his jaw—his jaw—ticked as he took a long, slow inhale through his nose.

A dangerous, predatory silence stretched between you.

Then, suddenly—

You let out a sharp gasp as Bucky crossed the room in three long strides, grabbing you at the waist and hoisting you up against him. His lips crashed into yours, all-consuming, as his body pressed you back onto the bed.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his breath hot against your lips. His hands roamed, fingers tracing over lace and skin, like he couldn’t decide whether to worship you or devour you whole. “I love coming home to this.”

You giggled, bringing your hands to cup his face as he peppered delicate kisses along your jaw. “Bucky,” you said softly. “You said you had news?”

Bucky pulled away from you and handed you the bouquet of roses. “These are for you,” He announced. “I realised your my girlfriend and I have never bought you flowers and that’s just not right so…”

You beamed, your eyes sparkling at the gesture. “Oh, they’re beautiful. Let me go put them in water.” You went to stand up but Bucky’s hand came down to your shoulder and he pushed you back down into your seat.

“Wait, not yet, I have something else for you. Close your eyes.”

You heard the crinkling of tissue paper as Bucky dipped his hand into the bag. You heard the opening of a small velvet box and felt him move your hair out of your face, his warm fingers grazing your collarbones. Bucky delicately placed the thin gold chain around your neck, adorned with a heart shaped locket, and fastened it in place.

“Open your eyes.”

You looked at it in the reflection of yourself in the mirror. Bucky stood behind you, his gaze unable to leave yours in the reflection.

“Oh wow,” you whispered in disbelief. “This had to have been so expensive Bucky, I— you didn’t have to—“

“Do you like it?” Bucky asked quietly, his eyes filled with worry.

You turned around and kissed him hard. “I love it. And I love you,” You clicked open the locket to find it was empty. “I want to put a photo of you in it.”

Bucky chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “You don’t have to. Don’t ruin it with a picture of me…”

You gasped and feigned shock, playfully smacking him on the shoulder. “Oh don’t you say things like that,” you warned him with a soft smile. You stood up and wrapped your hands around his face, letting them drift down his body to his chest. “I can’t believe this is my life now.”

Bucky swallowed nervously. “I know,” he breathed, his ocean blue eyes not leaving yours. “I uh— my news though, it might change this…”

His voice trailed off and you felt your heart drop in your chest. “What?”

And then—casually—he dropped the bomb.

“I’m running for president.”

Your brain short-circuited. You searched his eyes for elaboration but got nothing. 

You blinked. "You’re what?”

The Congressman couldn’t help but smile. You were so cute when you were surprised.

Bucky sunk down to your level, nuzzled into your neck, and pressed open-mouthed kisses along your pulse. "President," he murmured against your skin. "Big office. Oval-shaped."

"Yeah, I know what it means, you idiot!" You smacked his shoulder, shoving him just enough to look him in the face. "You’re seriously running?"

He smirked, propping himself up on his elbows. “Well I did consider it for all of five seconds. And it’s what the people want.”

You gawked at him. "The people—Bucky, you just announced this today?"

He nodded, completely unbothered. "Press conference."

"You didn’t think to maybe run that by me first?"

His lips curved, that infuriatingly smug little smirk that melted you every time. "Oh, I didn’t realize I needed my girlfriend’s permission.” He was teasing. 

Your breath hitched.

Girlfriend.

The word settled between you like a spark catching fire.

Bucky caught onto it instantly.

His smirk deepened, his nose brushing against yours.

"I do have your permission, don’t I?" he teased, voice dropping to something low and dangerous.

Your stomach flipped.

He was serious. He was really going to run.

And he wasn’t asking for your support.

He was claiming it.

And god, it made sense.

Of course he was running.

Of course he’d take this fight all the way.

And of course he’d come home and sweep you into his arms like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

So, you did the only thing you could.

You fisted the front of his dress shirt, dragging him back down into a kiss so hard it made you both gasp. Bucky groaned, deep and gravelly, and picked you up in his arms before dropping you down onto the bed. He pressed his entire weight into you, pinning you beneath him like he never wanted to let go.

He moved his lips to your ear, his voice thick with something dark and possessive.

“You okay with being my First Lady?” he murmured the question, his pupils blown big and dark.

Your pulse jumped and you nodded wordlessly. His fingers traced along the lace of your lingerie, slow, purposeful.

“Yes, Mr. President,” you bit your lip, fingers tangling in his hair. Your breath hitched.

His nose brushed your jawline as he exhaled, shaky and desperate. Your stomach flipped as you tilted your chin up, brushing your lips against his.

"I’m yours, Bucky."

Bucky exhaled sharply, like you’d just knocked the air out of his lungs.

Then—

He kissed you senseless.

And you let him.

Bucky kissed you like he needed to prove something.

Like claiming you with words wasn’t enough.

Like he had to mark it into your skin, so deep that you'd feel it in your bones.

He rolled his hips against you, pinning you beneath his weight, and God—the sheer size of him made your breath stutter.

"You’re mine," he murmured between fevered kisses, voice rough, gravelly.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging hard, and his sharp inhale sent a rush of heat straight through you.

"You already won, Bucky," you teased, breathless. "No one else even stood a chance."

His blue eyes darkened, flashing with something dangerous.

"Say it again."

Your stomach flipped, something molten curling low in your belly.

"I’m yours," you whispered.

Bucky growled, pressing his lips to your jaw, your throat—anywhere he could touch, taste, claim.

Then, suddenly—

He bit you.

You gasped, fingers tightening in his hair as his teeth sank into the soft skin of your neck, just enough to make you feel it.

Heat coiled in your stomach.

"Bucky," you whispered, voice trembling.

He licked over the mark, soothing it, before pressing another open-mouthed kiss right over the spot.

And then he did it again.

And again.

Until he was satisfied—until your skin was littered with his marks.

"Good girl," he rasped, lips brushing against your pulse.

A shiver ran through you.

Bucky exhaled, heavy, slow, before pulling back to look at you.

"You don’t know what you do to me," he murmured.

You cupped his jaw, tracing your thumb along his stubble-roughened cheek. "Then show me," you whispered.

His breath hitched and he brought his hands down to his slacks, removing them, along with his boxer briefs, in one swift movement. He hung hard and you felt your mouth begin to water for him. 

Licking your lips, you took him in your hands, your fingers tracing the vein that defined his length. Then, you placed a kitten lick over his head, savouring the salty taste of his precum on your tongue. 

“Oh baby,” Bucky groaned, his cock twitching in your hand with agonising desperation. He brought one hand down to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair, and his other unoccupied hand down to your breast, cupping it through the material of your lingerie. Then, in a sudden movement, he yanked it down, exposing your skin to the cool air. His cold, steel Vibranium fingers brushed over your already hard nipples, pinching them only occasionally.

“There’s uh— there’s something I’ve been wanting to try,” you announced quietly, pressing a kiss to the tip of Bucky’s cock before standing up and pulling him up with you. You ran your hands over his chest, peeling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. You took him over to your vanity and you leaned against it.

“Yeah? What’s that doll?” Bucky asked quizically, his eyes dark with lust. 

You took a deep breath before leaning over the desk of your vanity and opening your legs, your glistening wet folds on full show for your boyfriend who was behind you. You looked at your reflection in the mirror, and looked at Bucky who was totally and utterly mesmerised by you. He brought his hand down to his cock, fisting at it.

“You want me to take you from behind?” Bucky asked with bewilderment. “We’ve done that before.”

You giggled shyly. “No, Buck,” you said. “I want you to fuck me in the ass.”

Bucky swallowed, his eyes growing comically large at the realisation. “Oh. Oh.” 

You bit your lip. “Think you can do that for me, Mr President?” You asked, feigning innocent and fluttering your eyelashes. 

Bucky grinned, excitement flickering across his face before breaking the distance between you two. He started by running his fingers along your folds, gathering your slick so he could use it as lubrication. “Would be my pleasure doll,” he said, his voice rough with lust. “But I don’t wanna hurt you so lets start out easy.”

Bucky placed the tip of his index finger over your tight hole, rimming it teasingly before carefully sliding it in. He felt you clench around him as a small gasp escaped your lips at the pressure. Your back arched as you tried to press your ass back into his finger.

“Greedy girl,” Bucky muttered as you sinked into him. “Greedy girls get more than they can take.” He said plainly before suddenly sliding his middle finger in, stretching you open without warning. You gasped, air leaving your lungs as your fingernails scraped against your vanity desk.

“See, I can handle it,” you whimpered, your head dropping between your shoulders. Bucky curled his fingers inside of you, the digits hitting that sweet spot everytime. By now he knew your body like the back of his hand, but this was new, a journey he had not yet explored.

“Fuck, think I could just cum from doing this to you,” he chuckled darkly.

“Mm, not yet,” you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut as he built up your high. “I want you to fill me up.”

Bucky mumbled something incoherent before sinking down to his knees and pulling out his fingers with a pop and almost immediately replacing them with his tongue. Your stomach coiled with pleasure as he ate your ass, lapping at it like a starved man. He kneaded your ass, fingers digging into it so hard you know it would bruise, but Bucky wanted exactly that. He loved claiming you as his, making his mark. It was predatory and it was so very him. 

Bucky’s tongue probed at your hole and his fingers lunged down to your pussy, circling your clit with intent. “Cum on my fingers,” his voice was dark with command as he continued tongue fucking you. You didn’t think you had ever been this wet in your life, your thighs slick with the mess he was making of you. Lewd, wet noises filled the room. As if on command, you buried your head down into the vanity and released yourself on his fingers, a desperate whine leaving your lips. 

Bucky pulled off you with ease before positioning himself between your legs, pushing his achingly hard cock against your tight ring. “Tell me if it hurts baby, tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, placing a soft kiss to your neck.

You can’t do much more than a nod. Bucky hisses as he sinks into you, and you practically bite back a scream as pleasure jolts through your body like a bolt of electricity.

“Ah fuck— too much,” Bucky grits out, holding himself still inside of you as you adjust yourself on his thick girth. “Feels too good.”

His mouth hangs open and his eyes are squeezed shut. “Nuh-uh, open your eyes,” you tell him, surprised you even managed to bite the words out. “I want you to look at yourself in the mirror — I want you to watch yourself as you fuck me.” Bucky followed your instruction without any further words and lazily slung his Vibranium arm around you, holding you in place, the coldness of the metal stinging your sticky hot skin. 

Bucky double backs almost barely before cursing under his breath. “I won’t last.” He warns and you hum knowingly.

“Move.” You requested, your voice aching with desperation. Bucky just about abided, snapping his hips into your ass slowly and carefully. You could tell he was overstimulated from the way his face was scrunched up, from the whine in his voice. 

“Cum inside me,” you whispered. 

Bucky managed to get a few more thrusts in, his hand holding your neck, forcing you to watch him in the mirror as he fucked your ass. 

When he spilled inside of you, you let out a cry, his seed painting your walls. You clamped down on him, feeling his cum warm you up, but he was still inside of you, and you had never felt so full. Bucky towered over you, placing a sloppy, hot kiss on your shoulder. “I don’t think I can pull out.” He whispered, the curve of his nose brushing against your neck, his stubble tickling at you.

“It’s okay,” you smiled, turning your head slightly so you could place a soft kiss on his jaw. “You can stay in me for as long as you need.”

Bucky moaned. “You are so perfect.”

In time, Bucky softened inside of you. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, talking about how he was so lucky to have met you, so lucky to have known you, and that he would do anything for you. All of this, he had already proven to you. When he finally was able to pull out, he picked you up in one sweeping motion and gently lay you down on the bed. He spread your legs open and sat in between them, peppering light, baby kisses to the inside of your thighs and watching as his cum leaked out of you. 

“I wanna get you cleaned up, sweet girl,” Bucky murmured.

“No,” you replied, holding your hands out and pulling Bucky down on top of you. “Just stay with me here. Lay with me. Please.”

Bucky obliged, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you into his chest. In this moment, nothing else mattered because he had you, and he was never going to come close to losing you ever again. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Ethan sat stiffly in his chair, nursing a glass of whiskey he hadn’t touched. Across from him, Tara twirled the stem of her wine glass between her fingers, watching him with thinly veiled disdain.

“You had one job,” she said coolly. “Get her on your side. And yet, here we are.”

Ethan exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the table. “It’s not over.”

Tara scoffed. “Please. She’s his now. He’d burn the world down for her, and you let it happen.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened, but then he smirked. “Doesn’t matter. My plan’s coming together. I’m running for president.”

That caught Tara’s attention. She studied him for a beat, then leaned in, interest piqued.

“You really think you can win?”

“I know I can.” He sat back, confidence creeping into his tone. “He’s not untouchable, no matter how much the world worships him.”

Tara hummed, swirling her wine. “Maybe not. But you’re thinking too small.”

Ethan frowned. “And what’s your grand idea?”

Tara’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Bucky doesn’t take orders. He follows one thing—her.” She set down her glass, tilting her head. “Control her, and you control him.”

Ethan’s smirk faltered slightly, like he hadn’t considered that angle.

Tara leaned back, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “You fight him in the public arena. I’ll make sure he’s too distracted to stop you.”

She stood, smoothing down her blazer. “Sit tight, Ethan. This game’s only just begun.”

And with that, she disappeared into the night, leaving Ethan gripping his glass a little too tightly.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Taglist: @imaginecrushes @maplepepperoni @sleepysongbirdsings @sunday-bug @bunnyfella @lktunes12-blog @bellamoret @mrsnikstan @greatenthusiasttidalwave@pancake-05 @theylovethesky @avengersfan25 @nydubs @abitofblues @ferretferretferret @helen-2003 @notreallythatlost @opheliagreenaway @flowerluvr @calzone-d @lil-riddle-kiddle @nameless-ken @ladyvenera @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @josis-teacup @marissa8208 @houseofaegon

[mx-paradox]

Pretty When You're Looking Up Like That {Choso x Reader}

A soft night with your boyfriend slips into something a little more...carnal.

Minors Do Not Interact, explicit smut, reader has a vagina but no gendered pronouns used (terms like pussy, clit, cunt, for anatomy but nothing mentioned for reader's chest or anything), oral sex (r receiving), coming in pants, subby choso, he's a very good boy(toy), established relationship. title from worship by ari abdul. word count: 2300 | Ao3 version

“You look pretty with your hair down,” you whisper. Your hand runs gently through his loose locks, newly released from their normal spiky tufts. It’s softer than one might expect, even if his ends could do with a trim. You wonder if he would let you cut his hair…you wouldn’t want to change it in any way, just trim off the dead ends so it would grow healthier. Maybe he would let you decorate it with braid or pins too. The thought brings a small smile to your face.

Choso hums lightly, eyes slipping shut as your hands run through his hair and scratch at his scalp. He reminds you of a purring cat, somewhat huffy and territorial to outsiders, but at the end of the day, just another creature who craves affection from those close to him.

He has his head cradled in your lap, the rest of his body lying across the couch. It’s late, and the only light is from the television, which playing some movie you don’t particularly care about at a low volume. The movie is just background noise; the only thing you really care about is how lovely Choso looks in the flickering light.

Your boyfriend looks like he is a second away from slipping completely unconscious. He’s nearly boneless from just a little petting, burying his sleepy face further into your lap. He snuffles quietly, and you hold back a coo. Then he turns his face slightly, pressing it further into your lap, and you have to hold back a yelp instead. His nose had pressed, accidentally, into your crotch, and the thin material of your shorts wasn’t enough to protect you from the unexpected jolt of feeling. You flinch, just slightly, and you feel a flush of warmth from the sudden awareness of your position. Having his face between your thighs like that…

You’re broken out of your thoughts by a quiet voice. “Are you okay?” Choso asks, concerned. He turns his face back towards you, causing his nose to drag along the seam of your shorts again. You bite your lip before you make an embarrassing sound.

“Yeah,” you say, but your voice cracks.

He doesn’t seem to believe you...rather understandably, due to your sudden shift in attitude. “Do you have a bruise or something on your leg? Did I hurt you?” he sits up slightly, removing his head from your lap to run a gentle hand over your exposed thigh, searching for any sort of injury he had somehow missed.

His rough fingers tracing over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs aren’t helping you regain your composure in the slightest. “No, nothing like that, baby. It’s just…” you trail off, unsure what to say.

Choso is still looking up at you, perfectly attentive.

“It felt good. When. You brushed against me here.” You bring your hand down to graze at the apex of your legs. You feel like you’re burning up from how embarrassed you are, but you can’t lie to Choso’s earnest face.

His eyes darken a few shades when it finally clicks for him. “Oh.”

You turn away, flushing. “Yeah. Oh.”

There’s a moment of silence. The awkwardness itches under your skin, and you feel the odd urge to kick him away and run, as if that would save you from any embarrassment. The two of you had only recently gotten together, and while you had fooled around some, you felt like you didn’t have a good grasp on the full spectrum of what he was comfortable with. You don’t feel in control of the situation anymore, and the base, lizard part of your brain is gearing up to deploy your fight or flight instincts within the next few seconds if things don’t resolve themselves. You can’t even bring yourself to look down at him, where he is still too terribly close to where you feel hottest.

You’re forced to look at him, however, when you feel his insistent hands grip the flesh of your thighs. When you look down, he’s looking up at you with a hungry expression. “Do you want me to make you feel even better?” he asks, voice deep.

The answer is out of your mouth before you can even fully think about it. “Yes. Please.”

Two words, and he’s on his knees in front of you. He settles on his haunches between your thighs, spreading them wider so he can have room. He looks up at you again, eyes clear of any previous sleepiness. It’s a silent request for permission, and you nod.

As soon as you confirm you want it, he pushes his face into your clothed pussy. He nuzzles at it, once again cat-like, letting the elegant curve of his nose grind against your clit through the fabric of your shorts.

“Mmmh.” You fight against the urge to close your legs around his head as he continues to rub his face against you. It’s good, the gentle friction you can feel through the cloth, but it's not enough.

“Hey, baby, can you take these off for me?” you ask, stroking his hair softly to get his attention. He stops, looks at you for a second, and then eagerly shuffles back to start pulling at the waistband of your shorts.

It's a little awkward to wriggle them and your underwear off while you remain seated, but Choso makes the motions smoother than they have any right to be. He presses the gentlest kisses down your legs as he slides the fabric down them, and by the time you toss them away with a flex of your foot, you know you need his lips in a much more intimate place, and soon.

After divesting you of your clothes, Choso’s eyes travel back up the length of your legs, and lock onto the soft folds of your pussy. He looks…hungry.

“Can I? Please?” his voice is deeper, rougher than it normally is; desire sounds good on him. All lingering apprehension goes away when you see how affected he is as well; you don’t know exactly when it happened, but there’s already a noticeable bulge in his sweatpants. Feeling a dizzying shot of confidence now that you know he is just as aroused as you, you shift one of your legs between his and use it to grind gently at his hard cock.

He lets out a low moan. His hands, resting on his own thighs, reflexively clench down hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. Choso wants to touch you, but he’s being such a good boy and waiting for permission. The thought makes you just a little bit wetter. The sheer control you have over this man…

Any bashfulness has been replaced by lust, and you act accordingly. “Aw, do you want a taste, baby?” you reach a hand down to spread the lips of your pussy apart, revealing your slick entrance to him.

He lets out an audible whine. “Please.”

You grin, all teeth. Oh, teasing him is so much fun. You could make him wait longer, if you wanted. You know that, regardless of his own desires, he would obey you. It was intoxicating, seeing him break down without you even needing to lay a hand on him. A part of you is tempted to watch him squirm for just a little bit longer…but you wanted to feel his touch once more, and he has been such a polite boy.

You tell him so. “Such a good, nice boy for me, huh? So polite.”

Choso whines again, glazed eyes flicking between your wet slit and your own eyes, looking down at him with a predatory sort of heat.

You can’t bear to tease him (or yourself) any longer. “Okay, baby. You can taste me now.”

His hands go back to your thighs, gripping and kneading them in his broad hands. His face goes back to your pussy, and he rubs his nose through it in a mimicry of his earlier attentions when you were still clothed. Finally presented with bare skin to savor, he sticks out his tongue and licks a long stripe up between your folds, lightly flicking your clit at the end.

You bite your lip to hold back a moan. His tongue feels delicious as it slips through your labia, only adding to your own wetness. Even just that little bit of stimulation has you unraveling…or maybe it’s just the image of your boyfriend kneeling in front of you, lapping up your slick like he’s drunk off of it.

You can’t resist reaching out to thread your hand into his soft hair again. You mean to just pet him gently, a bit of nonverbal praise, but at that same moment he takes your clit all the way into his mouth and sucks. You jolt at the sudden pleasure, hand clenching automatically to yank at his hair. An apology sits at the tip of your tongue, but the way he whimpers and buries his face deeper into your core tells you that you didn’t hurt him…at least not in a bad way.

“You like when I pull your hair, huh baby,” you say, almost to yourself. You yank it again, using the motion to lightly grind on his face. You can feel the groan he lets out against your lips, and you let out a breathy chuckle. He’s so cute, even when he’s doing something so base and carnal.

Your excitement at his reactions causes your movements to become harsher, more frantic. You’re fully riding Choso’s face now, grinding your clit against the ridge of his nose as he laves his tongue around your entrance. He looks completely pussy-drunk, wine-colored eyes watery and glazed over, hands reflexively tightening on the soft flesh of your thighs as he lets out small whimpers and moans. The mark across his nose shines with a combination of your slick and glittering tears that slip from his eyes. You aren’t even touching him, beyond the hand in his hair to guide him, and he’s completely debauched from just acting as your pretty little toy.

His tongue slips inside you, curling so that it can scrape against the velvet walls of your cunt. You moan, feeling yourself clench around him as a wave of pleasure washes over you. Choso lets out a simultaneous groan, eyes rolling back, and you feel the vibration hum inside of you, making you shudder. His tongue goes lax for a moment, and you use the opportunity to hook your legs fully around his head, using them to pull him even closer as a mindless stream of praise slips from your lips.

“Good boy,” you purr, voice slow and syrupy. “You’re so good for me, baby.”

The flood of verbal affection seems to unlock something in him, and soon enough he’s back to eating you out like a starved man. He’s ravenous, licking and sucking with such fervor that you can even hear the obscene sounds of his drool and your slick over his whines and your own babbling.

The heat inside of you builds and builds with every movement of his tongue, with every grind of his nose against your engorged clit. Your hands are hopelessly tangled in his hair, dragging his face against you as you rut like a thoughtless animal. He doesn’t object to any rough treatment. In fact, it fuels him; he moans into it and savors it as he eats you out like there’s no tomorrow.

It takes only one more twist of his wicked tongue and grind of your clit against his face for the heat inside of you to rush forth and overwhelm you. All you can see are white sparks flashing against the inside of your eyelids. It feels electric, your orgasm pulling from deep inside you and radiating out to your extremities, making your thighs clench up and your back bow.

When you finally come back to yourself, panting, you see that Choso’s face is completely soaked with various…fluids. He’s panting just as hard as you, face flushed red and eyes completely black with blown pupils. He’s looking up at you with awe, rosy lips slightly parted as he breathes in and out, each rush of air brushing against your oversensitive clit.

Once you finally regain control of your gasping mouth, you rush to praise him. “That was so good, baby…such a good boy for me, making me come so hard.” You stroke through his hair, a partial apology for yanking on it earlier, but also just to savor the feel of it once more. He tilts his head into your hand, eyes slipping shut as he savors the attention in turn.

“Do you want me to help you out, baby?” you ask, fully prepared to return the favor and make him come so hard he sees stars.

Choso’s eyes widen, and he manages to flush even darker at this question. “Umm…” his voice sounds wrecked. He won’t look you in the eyes.

Your eyes trace down his body, down to where there was once a tent in his sweats. It’s absent now, replaced by a suspicious damp spot. When he sees where your gaze is pointed, he clenches his thighs together self-consciously.

Your breath stutters in your chest. “Did you come just from eating me out?”

He hangs his head, as if ashamed, but nods.

You yank him up into a deep kiss, almost falling over yourself in your eagerness. You can taste yourself on him, in him, as you lick deeper into his mouth. When you separate, a thin strand of saliva and leftover come still connects you together. “That was so hot, and I love you so much,” you murmur into his lips. “My perfect toy.”

His breath hitches. You catch it on your tongue as you kiss him again, this time dirtier, with more intent behind it. Your hand slips down to grope between the apex of his thighs; even though he just came (from the simple act of eating you out, what a perfect fucking man, all for you…) you can feel his cock beginning to plump up again from your attention.

You nip at Choso’s lips just to make him whine. It looks like you might be able to take him apart, after all.

[drabblesandsnippets]

Confidence, Part 2

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 4

Pairing: Sex Worker!Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Prompt: FREE WEEK | [Optional prompts: “A” - Anal Hook, Acarophilia,  Age Play] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (3k) Bucky is a full-service sex worker who enjoys helping women become more confident in their sexuality. This picks up right where part 1 ended. 

Warnings: 18+ Only. Very brief mention of an abusive ex. Mention of insecurities. Pet names (sweetheart, baby). Consent talk. Dirty talk. Praise. Oral (m receiving). Fingering. Squirting. 

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

Bucky’s the first person, other than herself, that’s ever been able to make her come. The intense experience has left her wanting to explore more with him, the need to bring him pleasure suddenly her only focus.

“Can I suck your cock?” 

She’s just full of surprises tonight.

The question has Bucky grinding harder against her, the delicious heat and wetness of her seeping through his underwear doing nothing to help him regain control. It’d be so easy to just give in to his carnal desires, to give her exactly what she’s asking for, but he’s a better man than that.

There was a reason she was reluctant to begin with and Bucky needs to make sure she’s not doing this out of some sort of obligation.

With a soft groan, he meets her gaze, one hand underneath her head to keep her attention as they move together. “Is that what you want, baby?” The increased pressure against her sensitive clit is almost too much, but he refuses to let up, watching as she gasps and trembles underneath him. “Or, are you only asking because you think I want you to suck my cock?”

She can’t seem to concentrate, her body and mind overwhelmed with conflicting thoughts. She’s breathless, clinging to him, her hips rocking against his, seeking out whatever he’ll give her - but she’s also worried that maybe she said the wrong thing. Maybe it’s not even something he wants. Maybe she overstepped.

Bucky doesn’t want her to get in her head about this - he needs her to say exactly what she’s thinking, without hesitation. Forcing himself to ignore the whine that tears out of her as he reluctantly pulls away, his own body just as desperate for hers, he murmurs, “Easy.” He reaches down to still her hips, his tattooed hand still cradling her head, encouraging her not to look away from him. “I need you to understand something, okay?”

She wants to keep him against her, but she doesn’t fight it, letting him be in control, her hands resting on his waist.

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” he tells her, the slow shake of his head conveying the seriousness of this conversation. “Certainly not me.”

A wave of regret and embarrassment washes over her, her first instinct to wish she never told Bucky about her ex. There’s nothing sexy about admitting your only experiences with giving head is with an ex who pressured you. 

The look he gives her isn’t one of pity though. It’s understanding. Compassion. Desire. All the things she’s longed for in a lover. 

She can’t let her insecurities win. Not anymore. Especially not while she’s lying naked and wanting underneath a man who already made her forget her own name. She wants more of that. More pleasure. More fun.

Taking a risk, she slides her hand down between them, not stopping until she reaches the waistband of his underwear, her fingertips tracing along the elastic. The grin that appears on his face gives her the last bit of confidence she needs to tell him, “I want this… not because it’s expected, I just… I want to make you feel good… if that’s okay?”

The need to reward her is too strong to deny and Bucky leans up, careful not to move away from her touch, wanting her to make the decision when to take the next step. Instead, his hand coasts from her hip up to her throat to loosely wrap around her neck, the intimate action causing pleasure to wash over both of them.

“I’d love nothing more than to have my cock in your pretty mouth, sweetheart,” he promises, his breath quickening to match hers, the sight of her body arching underneath him causing his cock to ache with need. “I just needed to make sure you want this as much as I do.”

There are a lot of things she wants right now, but none more than this. With her newfound confidence - and the fear that it’ll fade - she asks for permission to touch him, more than ready to keep going. 

Bucky’s eager response has her giggling, the sound fading into a moan when she finally makes contact. Just the softest brush of her palm along his covered erection and he’s moaning with her, pressing against her hand, his own fingers twitching around her throat.

She might not know what he likes, but that doesn’t mean she can’t learn. And if his immediate reactions are any indication, she’s already on the right track. 

Refusing to allow herself to overthink things, she keeps the same slow pace, stroking the length of him through his underwear, the obvious signs of pleasure spurring her on. There’s something intoxicating about being the sole reason for this beautiful man’s moans and grunts and she needs more.

“I want to suck your cock.” 

There’s no hesitation or hint of nerves in her words and it has Bucky cursing, his cock growing even harder for her. He can barely concentrate as it is, the taste of her still on his tongue, her bold touch leaving him breathless, and before he knows it, he’s helping her rid himself of the last bit of clothing, freeing his thick cock from the confines of his underwear.

This time it’s her turn to curse, a laugh bubbling out of her as she blurts out, “Well, now I know where your confidence comes from.” He’s bigger than she anticipated, despite the several times she’s felt him throughout the evening.

Bucky laughs along with her, proudly displaying his body, the mattress dipping as he kneels next to where she lays against the pillows. He’s aware he’s above average, and even though he doesn’t believe he’s nearly as intimidating as she’s making it seem, he’s quick to tell her, “I appreciate the ego stroke.”

Taking advantage of the obvious set up, she reaches out to touch him again, a playful grin lighting up her features as she asks, “Do you appreciate this kind of stroke too?” 

If he wasn’t suddenly overwhelmed by the warm grip around his cock, he’d be able to tell her how proud of her he is. For allowing herself to be in control, for asking for what she wants, for having fun and letting herself be completely in the moment with him. But the only thing that comes out of him is a soft grunt mixed with laughter, “Fuck yes.”

She doesn’t need any more convincing than that and starts a slow rhythm, using the pooling pre-cum at the tip to get him slick. She’s mesmerized by the way his breathing gets faster, the slight tensing of his thighs each time she works her hand over the head of his cock, the look on his face giving her just as much pleasure as his touch is.

With his left hand on the headboard to keep himself steady, his eyes follow the path his other hand takes, just in awe of her body as she is of his. The slight bump of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the softness of her stomach. And god, her thighs. He wants them wrapped around his head again, to feel her squeezing him as she comes.

Bucky almost asks for it. The image of him burying his face between her thick thighs while she sucks his cock has him thrusting against her hand. She’d probably let him too, but this isn’t about him. She was clear about what she wanted and he’s not going to push for anything else right now. 

Not that it’s hard for him to give in anyway, the hungry look in her eyes encouraging him to move closer, his cock soon within reach of her mouth. And then every thought leaves him. The need to taste her again, the desire to suggest a different position for her comfort, all of it gets shoved to the back of his mind. 

The slow swirl of her wet tongue quickly makes his breath catch and he loses focus, his hand stilling on her thigh, his fingers gripping her soft skin. “Fuck,” he exhales.

She’s already moaning, the salty taste making her crave more of him as her hand starts to stroke her saliva along his cock. She can’t get over how hard he is for her, barely having done anything yet, and the realization that everything she does seems to be turning him on has her comparing this to previous experiences.

There won’t be any second-guessing herself though, and as she pulls back to look up at him, her hand keeps moving, not wanting to stop the pleasure she’s giving him. She can tell it’s hard for him to concentrate, but she still asks the question, trying not to blush. “Will you tell me if I do something wrong?”

For a second, all Bucky can do is blink, his breath shallow from the way she’s touching him, the occasional brush of her thumb over the tip of his cock making him stutter. “Not… not gonna happen.”

She briefly bites her lip, his reactions causing her body to pulse and she resists the urge to touch herself, wanting all of her attention to be on him right now. With a soft giggle, she asks, “Because there’s no such thing as a bad blow job?”

Bucky grins and shakes his head. “No, sweetheart.” His free hand moves off the headboard to tenderly cup her face and his thumb slides over her bottom lip, the bit of saliva there making her even more gorgeous. “There are definitely bad blow jobs - if anyone involved isn’t enjoying themselves, no one’s gonna have a good experience.” 

Her words aren’t needed, but she still feels compelled to say them. “I’m enjoying myself.” 

“I know.” The grin on his face grows at the same moment his lips part and he exhales sharply again, the tip of her tongue teasing over the pad of his thumb almost making him forget what he wants to say. “Just… keep doing whatever feels good, okay? ‘Cause everything you do feels fucking amazing to me.”

She doesn’t need more instructions than that, and after letting his thumb slip from between her lips, she guides his cock back into her mouth, sliding the head along her tongue. She follows her instincts, finding an easy rhythm, listening to the way his breathing changes with each pass of her hand working in tandem with her mouth.

The incredible sounds she’s already eliciting from him ignite the fire inside of her, and she shifts, using the pillow underneath her shoulder for support. Her elbow digs into the mattress to give her more leverage and she starts moving faster, paying attention to the way her tongue flicking against the sensitive glands has him gripping the back of her head.

Careful not to take charge of the pace, Bucky runs his fingers through her hair and allows himself to get lost in the moment, his eyes never straying from her. The stretch of her lips around him, the occasional string of saliva that keeps him connected to her when she pulls back to take a breath, the perfect way she keeps stroking his cock.

“God,” he breathes, “you feel so good, baby.” 

She hums against him and he nearly loses it, his hips tensing, wanting to thrust into her mouth. He holds himself back, taking the opportunity to start touching her again, his hand moving from her thigh to her large breasts, the sight of her tits bouncing with each bob of her head driving him crazy.

The moment his fingers gently pinch one of her nipples, she gasps and pulls back, driven by lust to do everything she can to make him lose his mind. She slides her hand up, stroking just the tip of his cock, and tilts her head, slowly dragging her tongue along the underside of his shaft, all the way down to his balls.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky curses immediately, his cock twitching, oozing more pre-cum, and he’s overcome with the urge to praise her, the words tumbling out of his mouth between soft grunts. “Look at you… Such a good girl… Doing so good for me…”

It’s too much, each utterance making her body pulse with arousal and soon her hips shift, spreading her thighs wide, her pussy just begging to be touched. She doesn’t even give him a chance to react though before she’s taking his cock deep in her mouth again, the head brushing the back of her throat.

The gag she makes barely even registers as her free hand moves between her legs, seeking out her swollen clit for a bit of relief. She’s so turned on and the only thing that would make this better is if Bucky finally stops holding back. She wants nothing more than for him to fuck her mouth.

And all it takes is just a bit of encouragement from her, the hand on his cock sliding between his thighs to grab his ass, pulling him towards her. The words spill out of him unfiltered, his hand on her head gripping her hair as he tentatively thrusts into her mouth, “Is this what you need, baby? For me to fuck that pretty mouth while you play with your pussy?”

It’s enough to almost make her come and she shifts, opening her mouth wider, welcoming his thrusts as he starts to move a bit faster, both his hands tangling in her hair for leverage. It’s never been like this for her and she can’t get enough, doing her best to relax her throat as she takes him deeper each time, hungry to take all of him.

Bucky doesn’t want to overwhelm her, but he follows her lead, holding her head steady as makes her take more of him, his body tensing at the tight heat of her throat. “Shit, baby, oh my god.” He’s having a hard time breathing, let alone talking, but he wants to keep praising her, loving the way his dirty talk brings her pleasure. “You’re so good… taking my cock so well… You wanna come like this? With my cock down your throat, sweetheart?”

Her fingers speed up, pressing hard against her clit, the familiar tingle building deep inside of her, and she can only imagine how she looks. Tears wetting her lashes, her saliva dripping out of her mouth, her hand gripping his ass as she moans and whines around his cock. 

“That’s it,” he growls, “don’t fucking stop. Want you to come for me... Show me how much you love sucking my cock.”

That’s all it takes, and her hips lift off the bed at the exact moment that Bucky pulls out of her mouth, his grip on her hair forcing her head back, letting him get to witness her fall apart for him. The cry of pleasure that pours out of her has him nearly coming with her and he reaches down to cover her fingers with his, keeping the pressure up as her legs clamp around both their hands.

“Oh, good girl.”

“I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“You did so good for me.”

She’s so overwhelmed, intense waves of pleasure rushing over her, that all she can do is grind her hips, chasing the euphoria, even after it starts to become too much, her body quickly growing sensitive. 

Bucky already seems to know her body well though, how to keep her right where he needs her to prolong the feelings, and his fingers soon seek out her entrance, her walls still fluttering with aftershocks from her orgasm.

“Oh god,” she gasps, reaching out to hold his arm as her trembling thighs spread for him, already desperate for more. “Bucky… I… it’s…” She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to tell him, but he immediately soothes her, settling next to her while he teases her with just the tips of his fingers.

“Just relax for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her softly, trying to find a balance between helping her catch her breath while also wanting to make her come again. “I’ve got you.” 

Her mind is still foggy, her thoughts hazy with the lingering effects of coming so hard, all because she was so turned on from giving him head. But, she can’t stop thinking that his pleasure was cut short for hers, and now she’s come twice. “What about you?”

“What about me, baby?” Bucky’s grinning, knowing exactly what she’s asking, but he wants her to tell him - to at least try. She’s come so far in such a short time, he doesn’t want her to regress.

She doesn’t want to either, and with a soft exhale of a laugh, she tries to explain how she feels selfish, whispering, “I… you didn’t… fuck.” It’s so hard to string a coherent sentence together, his fingers still stroking along her wetness, and another soft laugh leaves her as her hold on his bicep tightens.

Bucky takes pity on her, brushing his nose along her cheek, his soft beard tickling her jaw. “You made me feel so good.” Her breath catches and he keeps going, her slick pussy pulsing each time he teases her entrance. “But, right now, all I can think about is feeling you come around my fingers again. Is that okay?”

For just a split second, she almost tells him no. But, that’s her anxiety talking - her insecurities telling her that she’s already had enough pleasure and they should be focusing on him. But, if there’s anything he’s proved to her tonight, it’s that making his partner feel good is just as satisfying as being on the receiving end.

As soon as she’s telling him yes, he’s thanking her, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine and he pulls back just enough to watch her. The way her thighs tense and shake, her soft gasps and shuddering exhales, the fluttering of her eyelashes. He can’t get enough of her and the urge to fuck her senseless drives him to suddenly fill her with his fingers.

He wastes no time before he’s curling them, pressing hard against her front wall, massaging her g-spot, reducing her to nothing but breathless whines and cries of “oh my god” again. Her head thrown back against the pillow, her eyes shut tight, each stroke coaxing more wetness out of her.

Bucky’s on a mission, remembering how she told him she squirts sometimes. She’s never done it with anyone else before, and he wants to be the first person to have the pleasure of witnessing it. To be the first person to make it happen.

The only thing she can do is go along for the ride, her left hand spreading her pussy for him, giving him the perfect opportunity to grind his palm against her clit, his soft words of praise filling her head. She can already feel the pressure building, his fingers never letting up, fucking her perfectly as she cries out of his name.

She thought she’d be nervous or hesitant about this part, but it’s impossible. He’s just as turned on as she is, enjoying himself right along with her, and she wants to give him everything. Especially when he growls, “Give me what I want. Squirt all over my fucking hand, baby. Let me feel it.” 

Whatever he wants, she’ll give him.

With a loud gasp of a moan, her body lets go, her wetness soaking his palm, the wet, obscene noises pushing her over the edge. Her breath gets caught in her throat and her back arches, her thighs threatening to close but Bucky quickly sits up, using his free hand to hold her open, fucking her through her orgasm, making her squirt over and over.

“You’re so fucking hot.”

“Holy shit, look at that.”

“Never seen anything so beautiful.”

“So fucking perfect, baby.”

He doesn’t stop until he’s sure she can’t take anymore - the twitching of her thighs, the tensing of her stomach, the soft whimpers telling him exactly when to pull back, immediately gathering her in his arms. HIs fingers don’t leave her until his lips are on hers, swallowing the whine she makes from the loss, kissing her passionately as she shudders underneath him.

Bucky’s so proud of her, and he can’t wait to show her everything else she’s capable of tonight.

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

Prev Part | Next Part (????)

Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[babyb1ues]

A little something about Xavier and his display of jealousy

It’s not even the first time we’ve seen him come across as bitchy, jealous or stand off-ish with other people when it comes to the MC, but regardless of that, I think the reason one might think it’s OOC or weird of him to be /this/ jealous is simply because it’s never made clear where it’s coming from, as in, the root of it all—granted, it shouldn’t have to be spelled out, it’s right there for one to read if you sit with the context, his character and try to understand the situation beyond just what you’ve been presented.

I don’t see it as lack of confidence—I do not believe even for a second that he feels inferior to others, humans or not, I think, for him, this sort of jealousy is a very complex thing that comes from a deep need and fear, which in turns spills into a certain type of dominance that he already naturally seemed to carry, but that’s a very different subject.

I’m talking about the physical need of being with someone he already lost twice, the years of missing and yearning, that’s why I also believe there’s something so very carnal about the way he behaves and, well, wants. He thrives on being with the one he loves, he’s clingy like that. The perceived notion of someone he loves being taken from him, in any way, I think, sort of puts him in fight mode—he’s snappy, pouty, bitchy, sometimes. He’s already been in a position of abandonment before, one time unwilling and another one where he saw no other choice but to leave, but it’s not just about that, but also about the loss of no longer being understood, of not being seen as who he is, since that’s the beginning of this connection for him—and now that he’s found her again, by some sort of miracle, I feel it makes sense for his hackles to be raised. Here he is, trying to make up for lost centuries, and someone comes and wants to whisk her attention away? In his head, he won’t have that. Also, I don’t know if he believes other people have pure intentions (probably not) so I wonder if he’s also protective about that.

This article does a good job in explaining different types of jealousy and where they come from, so with all of that, I think we just have to understand the basis of his character, the trauma and history, and how all those past experiences manifest into strong emotions that he’s kept to himself for so long, also another reason why he’s generally intense. For the first time, he’s been living since he’s been alive, and now, well, he’s running out of time :p

[aajjks]

TEACH ME (m)

synopsis. Teach me.. that’s what he says everytime he’s got his fingers deep inside you.

trope: age gap [10 years] yandere, forbidden relationship and cheating.

warnings. f-ngering, expl-cit themes, pr-fanity, he’s got a filthy mouth, f-rbidden r-lationship [teach-r x st-dent], y-ndere jk, p-sessive beh-viour, j-alousy, ch-ating, m-oning strict 18+ THEMES. MDNÏ.

note. PHEWWWWWW 🫠🫡🥵… YALL….. this is for all the horny girls on my blog. ONLY FOR YOU!! I think this is not gonna be a series but just a one shot and I hope to get it out soon but I wanted to put out a teaser and please talk to him and I just know you’re gonna love him because I know you guys have some fucked up fantasies. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS. I LOVE READING YOUR THOUGHTS AND YOUR ASKS also YALL the colored gradient text looks so pretty 🥹🥹🥹

note 2.0. This is strictly for 18+ so please do not interact if you’re underage. [TEASER]

If you wanna be tagged, please reply under this post x

“Hahaha what??”

Jungkook walks to your figure, you’re standing behind your desk, your back leaning against the blackboard, he knows you’ve said something really important right now but…

How the fuck is he supposed to take you seriously when your tits are practically popping out of your right dress shirt? Or the pencil skirt that is clinging onto your ass like second skin?

Goodness you’re so fucking hot, his cock is practically pulsing inside his underwear.

“Ms yn… what?” He manages to say, now towering over your smaller figure, you glare at him, swear tickling down your forehead.

“It’s Mrs Jeong for you!”

“Ms yn…. No.” Jungkook rolls his eyes as he closes the distance between you two, there’s no one in this empty university hallway, your door is closed,

Jungkooks eyes are set on you like a predator and the way your breathing is irregular suddenly, makes him feel superior to you despite your age difference of 10 years.

“Sorry that’s almost sounds like you said Mrs Jeon…. Haha… so similar won’t you agree?” His chest is now touching yours, his eyes contain a carnal hunger for you.

“I’m sorry but that can’t happen, yn.” He tsks, feigning disappointment, like he’s sympathizing with you, but you know better.

Jungkook knows that you know him better than anyone.

You know him so deeply and so intimately.

Jungkook forces his knee between your legs, spreading them, you gasp, he smirks.

“How dare you try to abandon me huh? I don’t give a fuck- NO JUNGKOOK YOU DONT UNDERSTAND I-I CANT COMPROMISE- shhh.” He presses his finger on your tinted lips.

He guides his hand down your panties, playing with the hem of it, “n-no jungkook please don’t-“” jungkook doesn’t stop, “listen yn- or Mrs Jeong.” He grits his teeth while spitting your last name out,

“I don’t give a FUCK ABOUT YOUR PATHETIC HUSBAND! OR YOUR SHAM OF A MARRIAGE!” He seethes,

“How pathetic you are huh?” he bites his tongue before speaking. “You sleep on that very bed with your stupid husband where I’ve made you cum so many fuckin times huh?” He tugs your panties down roughly.

You need a reminder of who you belong to, and he will gladly do it right here in this classroom.

“J-JUNGKOOK What are you doing?” You stutter, he rolls his eyes.

You know damn well what he’s doing. “Oh ms yn. You should know damn well and what I’m doing. Because your body knows it.” He smiles, almost cruelly at you.

He starts to tease your wet pooling heat, his fingers skilled as he starts to move them around your clit.

“nghh nooo..” you can’t even hold your moans at this point. He gets your sexual frustration. Your pathetic excuse of husband can never please you.

Your brain & your heart, and especially your pussy are currently fighting with each other right now disagreeing with what you really want and what you should do.

arguing with you between what’s wrong and what’s right.

“Oh come on ms yn- you’re soaking wet for me..” he plunges his fingers inside your inviting cunt.

“Oh yes moan for me…” he groans, whispering in your ear.

Your eyes are at the verge of rolling back he fucks you with his calloused fingers. “Divorce the bastard and I’ll let you cum.”

He pumps them in and out of you- teasing you.

Jungkook licks the side of your neck, grunting in your ear.

“If you won’t divorce him I’ll murder him and then fuck you right infront of his rotting corpse.”