#you get to pay for your doll
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paperglader · 7 months ago
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they really put alicent in bridgerton blue on the reunion and genuinely expected me to think that she didn’t in fact march all the way to dragonstone to get wifed up? bfr
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#I am only a girl living in a society#I make connections#she looks so pretty in blue though I want more#also you’re telling me that rhaenyra saw her walk in all cute looking to not completely crumble at the sight of her?#like my girl got all dolled up for you do something#rhaenyra IS a puppy dog when it comes to those bambi eyes shut up#Alicent was like you think you want her? I’m the love of your life you moron#and rhaenyra is like I KNOW#like she’s been trying to get the other woman to realize that very thing for the last 15+ years#and alicent’s all heartbroken like oh so you’re taking her to wife#and rhaenyra is like nO? WHAT?? all dumb and speechless cause jealous alicent was definitely not on her bingo card this year#whilst also having her own mental breakdown#because how on earth is she meant to explain this to her councel#or jace for that matter#that sure was goint to be a fun future conversation to have with her heir#but also Alicent just strutted into the room and started acting like a scorned wife?#which left rhaenyra feeling like the asshole parent who stopped paying for child support after the divorce#but also she never wanted a divorce in the first place?? and alicent doesn’t seem to get this?#like she’s already figuring out how to most efficiently empty daemon’s chambers for the woman to move in permanently#but alicent’s still yapping off about not having a place in court anymore and fleeing across the sea#and rhaenyra can’t help the bitter taste in her mouth as she states how that ship came in a little too late for them and it is messyyyy#hotd leaks#house of the dragon leaks#hotd spoilers#house of the dragon#house of the dragon spoilers#rhaenicent#alicent hightower#rhaenyra targaryen#bridgerton
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spark-circuit · 1 year ago
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LOSING MY GODDAMN MIND AT THIS PERFECT CREATURE
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britneyshakespeare · 3 months ago
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the new my scene dolls are so unfair they downgraded madison sooooo much from her original it's criminal. it should boycotted on that ground alone but then... chelsea *___*
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teleomancer · 1 year ago
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#so it's Infect Your Friends And Loved Ones with the bit about 'everyone around here knows about you'#even if it's positive- the world pays so much more fucking attention to my life for being trans and it makes me.. shiver?#coffee clerk fumbled every facet of taking my order and the apology landed super duper sideways#'oh sorry! it's just that it's my first time helping *you* is all- just seen you around a lot before. you know.' yeah? know what exactly?#how's that supposed to make me feel? every month they hire someone new and we get to do the same tiring song and dance#another young-20s clerk that will not stop trying to make small talk w/me beats ones that only glare yeah- this isn't pain just frustration#and like YES it's better than the cashier that beats the shit out of my beers on purpose or crumples receipts to hand them to me#or the audible 'see- told you he's a man' commentary when he can see stubble behind a mask on days that can't bother me to shave#like the pharmacists at this supermarket make me well aware that nobody else gets their E here. the store knows the local tranny. great.#genpop cannot reliably be fucking Normal Abt Transfems to the point that it makes me wanna thank the rare coworker that just like.#doesn't treat me like anyone different or special or a threat or a curiosity or an object or a shot to gain social capital for being nice?#getting told by young-20s cis girls that calling me dude didn't mean anything b/c they're 'y'know! *also* [limp wrist mime] *girlypop!*'#hits closer to home than getting called a slur to my face because the latter asshole doesn't pretend to be my friend and just.#skips straight to making me a paper doll in their head of what it means to be me and shaped like me and dressed like me and it's.. slimy.#'everyone around here knows about you.'
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littleeclectic · 1 year ago
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Outdated Twitter app has officially kicked me out... so outdated tumblr app is my only friend now
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askinkiskarma · 1 year ago
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MOTHER PLEASE GIVE DOBBY A SOCK
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THIS IS SICK AND TWISTED
SICK AND TWISTED I TELL YOU
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kaxen · 2 years ago
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For figures, it's usually the paint job that makes or breaks stuff for me. Because most of the time the sculpting isn't terrible, but then it's like Homer's Make-Up Shotgun of a paintjob.
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theheadlessgroom · 2 years ago
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https://www.tumblr.com/beatingheart-bride/713272404010582016/beatingheart-bride-theheadlessgroom
@beatingheart-bride
“Clearly, Gracey and Ghast haven’t spent more than five minutes with her...” Randall grumbled irritably, massaging his temple in a vain effort to ward off the stress headache coming on: La Constance wasn’t much in terms of being a grand singer nor actress, and yet she still somehow managed to con people into believing she was a sweet and lovely woman, and not a temperamental shrew. Even when people saw her throwing her temper tantrum (as the managers had that first day they arrived), they still somehow overlooked the signs she was a rotten handful...
He sighed again, temper still bubbling just below the surface. The managers, were someone to ask them about this completely sound business move (the sarcasm was practically dripping from this line of thought as it crossed his mind), would likely say it was for insurance purposes. Perhaps they believed Emily’s success was a one-off, a lucky fluke, and that she wouldn’t have the ability to sustain a career-she was a little shake-up for the opera house, but the status quo had to be reinstated. The people, they figured, would want Constance, and not a fresh face, no matter how good Emily was-better than the diva, that was for sure. And although he liked to hope that the public would speak with their wallets and refuse to see the show unless Emily was reinstated in her proper role, something told him the box office wouldn’t take much damage if they did...
“Please, Emily, don’t give up,” Randall urged, turning back to face her with solemn eyes. “This is not the end of your career-far from it. You will take the spotlight again.”
I’ll make sure of it, he swore silently, as he very gingerly took Emily’s hand once again, gently patting it in an effort to comfort her. I will make this right, Emily. You won’t have to stay silent for long...
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mikgreo · 9 months ago
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☆ twt nsfw links. ☆
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『starring 』:blue lock, tokyo rev, and jjk men!! 🗯️
a/n: i loooveee these fine men . i could just eat them
mommys good boy, always melting at your touch<3.
he’s your own little princess seat ♡.
he’s such a good boy, mommy’s lil slut<3
he loves how you use him for your pleasure!!
naughty boys deserve punishments..
CHOSO, yuji itadori, bachira meguru, ALEXIS NESS, KAZUTORA HANEMIYA, takemichi hanagaki, shinichiro sano, CHIFUYU MATSUNO, (your fav)
using his big fingers to get into those nice places<3
he loves overstimulating u!!! so mean:(
he’s so big.
he’s so big pt.2
hes HUGE
size kink..
TOJI FUSHIGURO, sukuna ryomen, KUNIGAMI RENSUKE, shidou ryusei, oliver aiku, DRAKEN RYUGUJI, taiju shiba, rindou haitani, HANMA SHUJI, (your fav)
fucking you like the brat you are
you love how rough he is<3
he loves facefucking his fav doll.
your punishment for being such a slut
teasing his cute girl💔
geto suguru, gojo satoru, YUTA OKKOTSU, isagi yoichi, CHIGIRI HYOMA, michael kaiser, MIKEY SANO, ran haitani, kokonoi hajime, SANZU HARUCHIYO, (your fav)
your punishment for being such a spoiled brat
he thinks you’ve been a bad girl.
making you beg for it
loves fucking you dumb
something he would do to make fun of you
Nanami kento, Higuruma hiromi, SUKUNA RYOMEN, GOJO SATORU, TOJI FUSHIGURO, SAE ITOSHI, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, (your fav)
he loves your soaky cunt<3
his fav postion!!
making his pretty princess do all the work:(
he pays such close attention to your holes<3
letting him use your mouth
megumi fushiguro, INO TAKUMA, inumaki toge, Rin itoshi, REO MIKAGE, Barou Shoei, Inui seishu, chifuyu matsuno, KAKUCHO HITTO, (your fav)
he fucks you so good
he’s so sweet to you and ur cunt<3
he luvs toying with you.
he lives to pleasure you and only u!!
what was supposed to be a tutoring sesh..
yuta okkotsu, kashimo hajime, KOKICHI MUTA, higuruma hiromi, NAGI SEISHIRO, otoya eita, YUKIMIYA KENYU, reo mikage, MITSUYA TAKASHI, izana kurokawa, HAKKAI SHIBA, (your fav)
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:3
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joelsgoldrush · 7 months ago
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“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k
worst!logan howlett x f!reader
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SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.
WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.
A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.
** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.
*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)
**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)
special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever
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The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.
Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.
Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 
Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 
Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.
The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 
You:
cutie patootie alert
there’s this really handsome guy at the bar
i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before
i think i’m in love with him
my night just got a 100% better
Allison:
age
what does he look like
is he bald?
You:
he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here
brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 
i didn’t stare at him for too long
otherwise that would’ve been very weird
and no he’s not fucking bald
that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 
Allison:
so you’re dating retired now
get it grandma!
You:
oh fuck you allison 
Allison: 
it’s okay girl we all have our flaws
just make sure it’s nobody’s father
wait it’s not mine right?
You:
nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it
Allison:
bitch 
Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.
“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.
The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”
Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”
Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 
Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”
The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.
“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”
Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 
“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”
Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.
“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 
“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”
(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)
He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.
“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”
“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 
“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 
You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.
“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”
Yeah… that you knew.
It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.
As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.
“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.
“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”
“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”
For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”
“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.
“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”
His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”
“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”
“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”
“Look, Wolvie. I–”
“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”
“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”
You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.
Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”
The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”
“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”
“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”
“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”
A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”
“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”
“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”
“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”
Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”
“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”
“Me neither.”
“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”
You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”
Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”
But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”
The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.
(But you aren’t.)
His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”
“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”
Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”
“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”
“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”
As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.
What the fuck had just happened?
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“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”
She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”
You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”
After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.
Your savior complex strikes again!
It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 
Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”
Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.
“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”
“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”
“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”
“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”
You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”
“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”
“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.
Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.
“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 
“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”
“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?
“You sure?”
“Affirmative.”
“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”
“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”
“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.
“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”
“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”
Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”
Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.
“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”
Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”
“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”
“What? No.”
“Why not? She’s cute.”
Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.
Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”
“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.
After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”
You could die at peace.
“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”
“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”
“Now why would you think that?”
“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”
“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.
“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”
“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”
“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.
He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”
Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”
His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”
This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.
“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.
“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”
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You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.
Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.
Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”
You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”
“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 
Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”
“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”
“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”
Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”
“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”
“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”
“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”
When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”
“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 
Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”
“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”
From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”
“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”
“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”
“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”
“Go fuck yourself, will you?”
“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”
Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?
Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.
“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.
You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”
Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”
You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”
He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?
“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”
He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 
“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”
You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”
The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”
“I just... I want to understand you better.”
“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”
He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”
With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.
“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”
“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”
The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 
Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”
Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”
But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”
Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”
You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”
He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”
“Should I give you some space?”
That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”
“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”
“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”
“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”
“God, do you ever shut up?”
You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.
“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 
“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”
“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”
“Am I that easily replaced?”
“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”
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Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.
Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.
He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?
It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.
Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?
“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.
“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”
The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 
“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”
“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”
You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.
“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”
“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”
“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”
“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”
“Careful.”
“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”
You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”
His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”
“Get your hands off her.”
Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 
“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”
“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”
Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”
“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 
The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”
“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.
“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.
“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.
“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”
“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”
The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”
Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”
“Don’t. Now is not the time.”
“I was protecting you.”
“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.
Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”
You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”
“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”
“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”
His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”
“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”
You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 
“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.
“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”
In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.
“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”
“Right here? On the counter?”
“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”
“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”
“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.
“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”
Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”
“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”
“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”
“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.��
His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”
“L-logan–”
“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”
You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”
With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 
“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”
He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 
“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”
“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”
Who had given him a damn script for this?
The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.
Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”
And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.
“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”
You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”
“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”
You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”
Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”
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part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”
dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)
12K notes · View notes
chuuqqi · 10 days ago
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thinking about nanami kento ^ \\ ^
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀dreaming to be spoiled by him !! 18+. MDNI.
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nanami kento is an absolute dream boat. he truly is a gentleman in a world full of boys. he is handsome, genteel, polite, compassionate, and a masculine man – in all the right ways. he is the man described in love stories and fairy tales – one that seemed to only ever exist in a fantasy.
being with him has made you realise what true princess treatment is like and that you were only receiving the bare minimum from your previous relationships. he treats and spoils you like the doll you are. he brings you a bouquet of flowers every week, he makes you home-cooked meals whenever you come home tired, he refuses to ever let you pay for anything – a true man.
he knows whenever you are upset simply by the sigh you let out and he's always ready to listen to your concerns, never wanting you to bear even an ounce of burden on your shoulders. he surprises you with a sweet treat every now and then, buying confectioneries he thinks you'd enjoy immensely and feeding them to you. he buys you whatever you wish — look at a dress or some jewellery for more than a second, he's already at the counter purchasing said item. he adores how cute and excited you get when he does these things for you, which makes him want to spoil you evermore.
he cherishes you, he worships you, he treasures you, and he pleases you — in every which way.
a gentleman like him, he prefers intimacy to be romantic and loving. it's never just for a quick few minutes — he wants to savour the moments and please you until you're melting in his hands like putty. he revels in the way you squirm underneath him and the cute, soft moans you let. he holds his own groans back just so he can hear you mewl in his ear, his hands gripping you tighter as he ruts back and forth.
whether he has his head in between your thighs kissing and licking your sweet pussy or his dick is pumping in and out of you slowly and deliciously, sex with him is a gratification like no other. with him, you feel so cared for and so pleased. with you, he feels exactly the same and he always wants to be the only one to ever make you feel this way.
though do not be fooled — this man can get rough & messy! if he's had a stressful day at work or he hasn't been able to see you for ages, he will wreck you — pretty much use you as his personal sex doll. he will pound into you, moving at an ungodly pace that you sometimes wonder where he musters all this stamina and energy from. what riles him up even more is the way your hands scramble to hold onto something and so you settle for his hair, tugging at his strands roughly. the deep growls he lets out make your pussy wetter and tighter, pulling him in more as if you didn't want to let go.
aftercare with him is divine. he makes sure to clean you up, planting kisses all over your body — your face, your tummy, your inner thighs. he pulls you into a sweet embrace, whispering in your ear to ask if you are alright and if you enjoyed yourself. he tends to run his hands up and down your back as you begin to blabber about something and he just listens to you. he loves the fluttering kisses you plant on his chest while he hugs you and how you bury yourself in his embrace.
he is just the man of your dreams ♡
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﹙⠀💌⠀﹚── nanami kento has been on my mind so much lately & i just needed to blurt this all out <3 ! this is also my first time writing any sort of smut so it's nothing so special~
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thebarneschronicles · 19 days ago
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Nine Lives
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Word Count: 9.4k
Synopsis: Bucky Barnes drives you insane—in every possible way. The bickering, the reckless plans, the way he smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. But when a mission goes sideways, leaving you both bloodied and too close for comfort, the tension between you ignites into something impossible to ignore.
You can keep pretending. Keep fighting him. But Bucky isn’t one to back down—especially when he knows you don’t really want him to.
Trigger Warnings: Bullet wounds, unprotect sex (wrap it before you tap it!), p in v, dirty talk, BUCKY BARNES (he needs his own warning)
Author’s Note: I had been tinkering with a few scenes in this and the Thunderbolts trailer made me finish it. Hope you like it! B x
-- Bucky Barnes was going to be the death of you.
Whether it was because he got on your last nerve or because you were desperately, irrevocably, undeniably in love with him—either way, he’d be the reason your heart stopped beating.
And honestly? It might happen in the next five minutes. Because God help you, the man was insufferable.
The room smelled like burnt coffee and bad decisions.
Sam stood at the front, gesturing at a holographic map as he laid out the mission plan, his voice steady and patient—too patient, the way a parent speaks when they know their kids are about to cause problems.
You were paying attention. You really were. But out of the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky leaning against the wall, arms crossed– and looking bored out of his mind.
Every once in a while, he flicked his gaze to you, not saying anything. Just watching.
And you knew that look. That I’m about to do something reckless and you’re going to yell at me for it look.
You gritted your teeth.
“—we’ll go in through the east entrance,” Sam continued, pointing at the building layout. “Stealth is key. No unnecessary attention.”
Bucky made a quiet sound. It wasn’t quite a scoff, but it was close enough.
Sam’s jaw flexed. “Got something to add, Barnes?”
Bucky shrugged, like the whole thing was barely worth his effort. “I just think you’re overcomplicating it.”
Your brows shot up. Oh, here we go.
Sam closed his eyes, visibly counting to ten. “What part is complicated?”
Bucky shifted, pushing off the wall. “The part where we’re tiptoeing around like we’re on a damn field trip. We go in, take out the threats, get what we need. Done.”
You turned in your chair, slowly. “Take out the threats?”
Bucky smirked. “What?”
“What?” you repeated, voice rising. “You mean brute force? Like some kind of rabid raccoon?”
Sam sighed deeply, rubbing his temples.
Bucky grinned, which somehow made it worse. “I’d say more wolf, but sure.”
Your grip tightened on the edge of the table. “Barnes, if you go off-script, I swear to God—”
“Relax, doll,” he said, casual as anything. “I’ll mostly follow the plan.”
Your eye twitched. “Mostly?”
Sam exhaled sharply, muttering to himself. “I should start charging overtime for this.”
Bucky wasn’t done, though—he turned that damn smirk back on you. “You do love bossing me around, don’t you?”
And that? That was the last straw.
Your chair scraped against the floor as you stood, planting your hands on your hips. “We are sticking to the plan, Barnes. No improvising. No wandering off. No turning this into some solo hero death mission.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose, inhaling through gritted teeth as you fought for patience you absolutely did not have. “Why is your solution to everything brute force? Sam has a plan. A good plan. A plan that does not involve you punching your way through every obstacle.”
Bucky folded his arms across his broad chest, looking completely unfazed. If anything, he seemed amused. “First of all, rude. Second of all, my way works.”
“You mean it works when it doesn’t get us killed?” you shot back, voice rising. “Which, by the way, is not a guarantee.”
His mouth twitched like he was trying not to grin. “C’mon, doll, you’re overreacting.”
And there it was. That goddamn nickname.
You felt it like a spark in your bloodstream, a rush of heat you refused to acknowledge. Instead, you rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck. “Don’t ‘doll’ me, Barnes. I’m serious. We are sticking to the plan.”
“I am sticking to the plan,” he said, far too casually. “I’m just… modifying it.”
Your jaw dropped. “Modifying it?”
“Enhancing.”
“You mean ignoring it?”
He shrugged and you had never wanted to strangle and kiss someone in equal measure more in your life.
God, this man was going to be the death of you.
You took a slow, deep breath, curling your fingers into fists at your sides. “Bucky. No modifications. No enhancements. No Barnes-ifying the plan.”
He tilted his head, looking irritatingly pleased with himself. “Barnes-ifying? Huh. I kinda like that.”
You threw your hands in the air. “Of course you do.”
Sam, who had been observing this entire exchange with the long-suffering patience of a saint, let out a loud sigh. “Are you two done? Or should we clear the room so you can work out all that tension?”
Your head snapped toward him. “There is no tension.”
Bucky, the absolute menace that he was, had the audacity to murmur, “Oh, there’s tension.”
Your entire body went rigid. Your face felt hot. You whirled back to him, pointing an accusing finger at his chest. “I will kill you.”
His lips twitched. “I’d love to see you try, doll.”
You weren’t sure what infuriated you more—the way he said it— doll —like it was his own private joke, or the fact that you liked it. Loved it, even. That it sent a pulse of something traitorous through you, something that made you want to either punch him or grab him by the collar and—
No. Focus.
You squared your shoulders, planting your hands on your hips. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Barnes. You’re going to follow the plan. No making things up as you go along. Got it?”
His blue eyes glinted with something unreadable. “And what if I don’t?”
You narrowed your eyes. “Then I’ll personally make sure you regret it.”
Bucky grinned, slow and wicked. “Kinda looking forward to that.”
Your breath hitched. Your brain short-circuited. You opened your mouth, then shut it again, because there was absolutely nothing appropriate to say to that.
Oh. Oh, that son of a—
Bucky chuckled, clearly enjoying the way he’d just rendered you speechless. Then he leaned in just slightly, voice dropping to something low and smug.
“Face it, doll,” he murmured. “You’d miss me if I was gone.”
You scoffed, even as your stomach flipped. “I’d miss arguing with you. That’s it.”
“Mm-hmm.”
The knowing look on his face made you want to smack it off. But more than that, it made you want to—
Nope. Not going there.
You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel. “I’m done. Sam, let’s go before I change my mind and let him get himself killed.”
Sam snorted, giving Bucky a pointed look. “See what you did? Now you’ve pissed her off.”
Bucky only smirked, watching you walk away. “Nah,” he said, mostly to himself. “She likes it.”
You didn’t like it.
Not one bit.
And do you know why? Because you knew—knew—he wasn’t lying.
Bucky Barnes didn’t say things he didn’t mean. He wasn’t the type to play games with words, wasn’t the type to tease just for the hell of it. If he said there was tension, if he said you’d miss him, then he meant it. He knew.
He knew before you did.
And that was the worst part.
You had no idea when your constant bickering turned into something else, something deeper, something dangerous. One day, you thought you hated him—the next, you realized you couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.
It had terrified you.
So you fought.
You fought harder, argued louder, refused to let him see just how deeply he had burrowed into you. You clashed over the stupidest things—his reckless plans, his stubbornness, the way he called you doll like it was a secret between you. Because if you didn’t fight, if you let the walls slip for even a second, you weren’t sure what would happen.
And it infuriated you.
How dare he?
How dare he make himself at home in a corner of your heart you didn’t even know existed? How dare he take up permanent residence there, until that tiny space expanded into the whole damn thing?
How dare he make you want him when you were supposed to be angry at him?
How. Dare. He.
The memory took over before you could stop it…
It had been a disaster from the start.
The mission was supposed to be a simple recon—go in, get intel, get out. No unnecessary engagement. No close calls. No getting shot.
But Bucky Barnes? He didn’t believe in simple.
You were fuming as you dragged him into the safe house, your grip tight on his arm, ignoring the way his blood seeped through your gloves. He was bleeding all over the place, but of course, he still had the audacity to smirk at you.
“You’re manhandling me, doll.” His voice was rough, teasing. “If you wanted to get handsy, you could’ve just asked.”
You pushed him down onto the rickety cot in the corner, none too gently. “I swear to God, Barnes, if you don’t shut up, I will make your injuries worse.”
Bucky groaned dramatically as he flopped back, far too casual for someone who had just taken a bullet to the shoulder. “You’re so mean to me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry—should I be nice to the guy who just got himself shot?” You tore open the med kit, grabbing a pair of scissors and snipping at the sleeve of his tactical suit. 
Bucky’s smirk vanished. “Hey, whoa—this is a perfectly good jacket.”
“You’ve bled through half of it, Bucky!” You glared at him, slicing the fabric open with zero hesitation.
Bucky scowled. “Still wearable.”
“Still ruined.”
“You’re ruining it more.”
“Oh my God—do you wanna keep arguing, or do you want me to keep you from bleeding out you reckless, metal-armed asshole?”
Bucky huffed a laugh, because of course he did, the sound painfully casual. “Little dramatic, don’t you think?”
Your hands shook as you tore open the med kit, fingers fumbling over the supplies. “Shut up.”
“Oh, come on, doll, it’s just a—”
“Don’t you dare say ‘scratch.’”
Bucky sighed, dropping his head back onto the cot. “I’m not bleeding out.”
“You got shot, you dick,” you snapped, peeling the fabric away to get a better look at the wound. Through and through, just above his bicep. A clean hit, but it would scar if you didn’t take care of it properly.
Bucky peered at the wound like it was barely an inconvenience. “It is just a scratch.”
Your eye twitched. You gritted your teeth, pressing an antiseptic wipe to the wound with zero mercy.
Bucky hissed, body tensing as he glared at you. “Jesus—are you trying to kill me?”
“Oh, now you feel pain?” You didn’t let up, pressing a little harder just for good measure. “You didn’t seem too concerned when you ran into a hail of gunfire like a rabid golden retriever with a death wish.”
Bucky scoffed. “Golden retriever?”
“You just charged in, Bucky! What part of ‘stealth mission’ do you not understand?”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “I had to.”
“No, you didn’t!” You grabbed a fresh gauze pad, pressing it against the wound. “Sam and I were handling it just fine before you decided to be stupidly heroic.”
“Doll, you were cornered,” Bucky argued.
“No, I was waiting for backup.”
Bucky gave you a pointed look. “You were outnumbered and had a jammed weapon.”
You locked your jaw. Because okay, maybe that was true.
But he didn’t have to jump in front of a bullet for you.
You cleared your throat, trying to sound unimpressed. “I was fine.”
“You were two seconds away from getting shot.”
“I know, Bucky!” You slammed the antiseptic wipe against his skin, not caring when he hissed. “But you didn’t have to—you didn’t—you— I told you not to do it!” you cried out. “But no, you just had to go full Terminator and jump in front of a goddamn bullet for me—”
You stopped.
Because suddenly, your throat was too tight, and your breath was coming too fast, and you hated that the panic was winning, that it was spilling over.
You weren’t just mad.
You were terrified.
Bucky blinked at you, actually looking concerned now, which only pissed you off more.
“Doll—”
“You think you’re indestructible, don’t you?” You threw the used gauze aside, grabbing another one, your hands shaking as you pressed it to the wound. “Just because you have the serum, you think you can—can take all these stupid risks—”
Bucky sighed, clearly exasperated. “I heal faster than you do, sweetheart. It’s not that deep.”
Something inside you snapped.
“Oh, fuck you, Bucky!”
His eyebrows shot up at that.
“You think the serum makes you invincible?” you seethed, eyes burning. “Is that why you keep throwing yourself into danger? Why you never hesitate before taking a hit? Why you jump in front of bullets like it’s your damn job?”
Bucky opened his mouth, but you weren’t done.
“Guess what, Barnes? The serum doesn’t make you immortal! One day, your dumbass luck is going to run out! And what then?”
Bucky stilled, blue eyes searching yours.
But you were unraveling too fast to stop now.
“I swear to God, Bucky, I’m gonna lose my mind if you keep—” You sucked in a shaky breath, voice cracking. “I can’t—I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself.”
Something changed in Bucky’s face. The teasing, the smirking—it all vanished.
You didn’t want to see whatever was in his eyes.
You dropped your gaze, fingers moving on autopilot, taping the bandage down over his shoulder. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, but you pretended not to notice.
You felt him watching you.
For the first time since the mission, Bucky was quiet.
The weight of it pressed against your chest.
You swallowed hard, clearing your throat. “Just—just try not to die next time, okay?”
Bucky let out a slow breath, something almost amused slipping into his voice. “Not really my style, doll.”
You snapped your head up, narrowing your eyes at him. “Yeah, I noticed. You’ve got a real stubborn track record of coming back from the brink of death.”
Bucky grinned, slow and lazy, like he couldn’t help himself. “What can I say? I’m persistent.”
Your jaw tensed.
“Yeah? Well, I don’t want to be the one watching you zero out your nine lives.”
The smirk disappeared.
A flicker of something serious passed through his eyes—so fast you almost missed it.
For a second, you thought he was going to say something that would change everything.
But then, as quickly as it came, he shoved it away.
He exhaled a soft chuckle instead, shaking his head. “You worry too much.”
You clenched your jaw, standing abruptly. “And you don’t worry enough.”
Bucky watched you, his expression unreadable.
You grabbed the med kit and turned away, before he could see just how badly your hands were still shaking.
Because the truth was—
You weren’t sure what scared you more.
The fact that Bucky Barnes kept coming back from the brink of death—
Or the fact that, one day, he might not.
You exhaled sharply, shoving the memory aside.
No. Not thinking about that.
You couldn’t.
Because if you let yourself sit with it for too long—
If you let yourself acknowledge how much he meant to you—
You weren’t sure how you were supposed to breathe through it.
Bucky must have sensed the shift in you, because as you stalked ahead, fuming, he was suddenly there—keeping pace beside you, his presence entirely too much. Too close, too solid, too him.
“You’re quiet,” he murmured. “That’s never a good sign.”
“Maybe I just ran out of things to say,” you snapped, not looking at him.
He made a low sound, somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. “That’ll be the day.”
You whirled on him before you could stop yourself, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Do you enjoy driving me insane, Barnes? Is it, like, a hobby for you?”
His lips twitched, that damn smirk already forming. “I mean… yeah. Kinda.”
You let out a frustrated noise, turning on your heel, ready to put as much distance between you and that insufferable smirk as possible. But before you could take two steps, his fingers curled around your wrist—gentle, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.
The warmth of his skin against yours sent a jolt through you. His grip wasn’t rough, wasn’t forceful, but it was steady, intentional. And for a split second, you couldn’t breathe.
When you looked up, his blue eyes were locked onto yours, unreadable, intense.
“I’m not trying to drive you insane,” he said, his voice softer now, but laced with something heavier, something that made your chest feel tight. “I’m just trying to figure out why you won’t admit it.”
You swallowed, pulse hammering. “Admit what?”
Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying you like he was searching for something, peeling back layers you weren’t ready to let him see. His gaze dragged over your face, lingering—too long—on your lips before flicking back up.
Your breath hitched.
He was going to say something else. You knew it. Could feel it. But whatever he saw in your expression made him change his mind at the last second. His features shifted, the quiet determination giving way to something smug, teasing. A deflection.
“That it’s a good plan.”
Your pulse stuttered.
This wasn’t what he wanted to say. Not even close.
But he was giving you an out. Letting you pretend, letting himself pretend, like this was still just another argument. Another round of your never-ending bickering instead of… whatever the hell this was becoming.
And that? That scared you more than anything.
“It’s not,” you shot back, seizing the escape he’d handed you. You took a step back, yanking your wrist free of his grasp. “It’s stupid. It’s reckless, and it’s going to get one or all of us hurt if we do it.”
Bucky’s jaw tensed, his smirk faltering for the first time. His eyes darkened, something unreadable flickering in them before he asked, voice quieter, but rougher—”Why do you never take my side?”
The question hit like a sucker punch.
It knocked the breath from your lungs, left you reeling in a way you hadn’t expected.
“I—” The words caught in your throat.
He wasn’t teasing now. Wasn’t throwing out some cocky remark just to get under your skin. This was something real, something raw, and it left you woozy.
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Second time I’ve got you speechless today, huh? Must be a new record.”
His voice was light, teasing again, but the look in his eyes said something else entirely.
Then, before you could recover, before you could shove something sharp and defensive between you, he turned and walked ahead—leaving you standing there, heart racing, breath unsteady.
Completely, utterly furious at him.
And even more furious at yourself.
Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you forced yourself to breathe. In. Out. Don’t let him get to you.
Except he had. He always did. And the worst part? He knew it.
You glared at the back of his head as he walked ahead like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just thrown you completely off balance and left you scrambling for solid ground.
Why do you never take my side?
You hated that the question still echoed in your head. That it stung in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.
You stormed after him, your boots crunching against the pavement. “Barnes, we’re not done talking about this.”
He didn’t stop, didn’t even turn around. “Seemed pretty done to me.”
Your jaw clenched. “God, you are infuriating.”
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that once or twice.” He threw a glance over his shoulder, his smirk still in place, but his eyes? His eyes were still sharp, still waiting.
You caught up to him in two quick strides, grabbing his arm to yank him to a stop. “Don’t walk away from me.”
Bucky arched a brow, glancing down at where your fingers gripped the sleeve of his jacket. “Thought you couldn’t stand being near me, doll.”
You ignored the way your stomach flipped at the nickname. Ignored the way your traitorous hand lingered for a second before you let go.
“That plan of yours?” You crossed your arms, tilting your chin up. “It’s reckless. And you know it.”
His smirk faded, just slightly. “And what if reckless is the only option?”
“That’s bullshit, and you know that too.”
Bucky let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I get it. You think I’m some idiot who just punches his way through problems—”
“I know you are,” you shot back.
He glared at you, jaw ticking. “But maybe—just maybe—I actually know what I’m doing this time.”
You opened your mouth, ready to argue, but something in his expression stopped you.
There was no smugness, no teasing. Just raw frustration, something worn down underneath.
You stared at him, chest rising and falling too fast, the words dying on your tongue.
“Right,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. “Should’ve known better than to expect you to trust me.”
The words weren’t loud. He wasn’t even looking at you when he said them. But they landed like a slap.
Your breath caught. “That’s not—”
“Forget it.” 
— 
Shockingly, Bucky had followed Sam’s plan.
And—even more shockingly—it had gone wrong.
In the end, brute force had been the only way to get all three of you out alive.
You weren’t sure when the dust had settled, when the ringing in your ears had finally faded enough for you to hear your own breathing again. But when your vision cleared, Bucky was still standing.
Standing over a pile of bodies, bloodied and exhausted, his chest heaving with exertion.
There was a split in his lip, a gash across his forehead, and a bullet graze along his ribs, the fabric of his tactical suit dark with blood.
And you hated it.
You hated how your stomach twisted at the sight of him hurt. Hated the way your fingers curled into fists at your sides to stop yourself from running to him, from touching him, from grabbing his face and checking.
Most of all, you hated that you had doubted him.
Bucky Barnes had a century of combat experience. He had spent his entire life surviving fights he shouldn’t have walked away from, and still, you had dismissed him. Still, you had refused to listen.
And now? Now all of you were bleeding. All of you were shaken.
But the worst part—the part that made your throat tighten and your breath shudder—was that Bucky wasn’t even gloating.
No smirk. No I told you so.
Just silence. Just his sharp, assessing gaze, scanning the aftermath like he was still bracing for another fight.
By the time Torres had you all back on the plane, you were shaking.
The adrenaline should have worn off by now, but the weight in your chest only grew heavier. You knew—you knew—Bucky would heal faster than you or Sam. Logically, you understood that.
But logic wasn’t stopping the tightness in your throat when your eyes landed on the bruising around his temple.
It wasn’t stopping the way your fingers trembled as you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down in front of him, against every warning screaming in your head.
Bucky exhaled slowly, tilting his head back against the seat. “I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding,” you shot back, voice sharper than intended.
“So are you.”
You ignored that. “Just—hold still.”
For once, he didn’t argue. But when you reached for him, when your fingers ghosted over his skin, his gaze flickered—just for a second—to your hands.
He noticed.
Noticed the tremor in your fingers, the way they weren’t steady.
His brows drew together, just slightly. He didn’t say anything, but you felt his stare, felt the question lingering on the tip of his tongue.
Your breath hitched. You curled your fingers tighter around the antiseptic wipe, focusing too hard on dabbing at the cut on his forehead.
When he flinched, you huffed. “Big bad super soldier can take on twenty guys at once but can’t handle a little stinging?”
His lips twitched, but the teasing was half-hearted. “Not my fault you’re rough.”
You shot him a look. “I wonder why.”
His jaw flexed. “You do like making things difficult.”
“Oh, I make things difficult?” You shook your head, pressing a little too firmly as you cleaned the wound. “I don’t remember me running in headfirst with zero regard for a plan.”
Bucky scoffed. “Right, because your plan went so well.”
You froze, fingers stilling against his skin.
His voice hadn’t been sharp, but the words still landed heavy in your chest.
“You didn’t have to follow it,” you murmured.
Bucky let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Well. I did.”
Silence stretched between you, thick and weighted.
You forced yourself to move again, forced yourself to focus on the cut rather than the way his eyes lingered.
Your throat was dry when you spoke. “You were right.”
His expression didn’t change, but you felt the shift in the air.
“We should have done it your way,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.
Bucky’s fingers curled over the edge of the seat. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, but you knew he was watching you.
Finally, he exhaled, his voice quiet. “Didn’t do us much good, did it?”
You pressed your lips together. “Would’ve gone a lot worse if you hadn’t stepped in.”
His eyes flickered. His jaw worked, like he wanted to argue but didn’t have the energy for it.
“You don’t have to say that,” he murmured.
“I do.” Your voice wavered, but you swallowed hard, pushing through it. “Because I was wrong.”
Bucky was still. Unreadable.
Then, after a beat, his voice dropped lower. “That an apology?”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no real fire behind it. “Don’t push your luck, Barnes.”
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”
But his eyes? His eyes told a different story.
The hum of the jet was steady beneath you, the vibrations deep in your bones, but it did nothing to ground you. The cabin lights were low, throwing long shadows across the metal walls. Sam was already passed out in the back, his breathing even, the tension from the mission finally easing from his shoulders.
You should be doing the same. You should be closing your eyes, letting exhaustion take over, shutting out the memory of the chaos you’d just escaped from.
But you couldn’t.
Because Bucky was still watching you.
He sat across from you, silent and unreadable, his blue eyes darker in the dim light. He hadn’t spoken since you finished patching him up, but he hadn’t stopped looking, either.
It wasn’t his usual sharp-edged irritation or teasing smirk. No playful bickering, no cocky remarks about how he’d been right. Just this.
Something softer. Something heavier.
Something you weren’t ready for.
“You should get some rest,” he murmured, voice low and rough around the edges.
You shook your head, fingers curling into your palms. “I’m fine.”
Bucky exhaled through his nose, like he didn’t believe you. “Yeah? You don’t look fine.”
You hated that he could see it. The tremor in your fingers, the tension in your shoulders, the way you were still breathing too fast, like your body hadn’t realized the fight was over.
You hated that he noticed. That he cared enough to notice.
And then—because you were tired, because you were furious, because he had almost died and you were still trying to claw your way back from the sheer panic of it—you snapped.
“You could have died, Bucky.” Your voice was sharper than you meant, thick with something you didn’t want to name.
His brow twitched, but his expression didn’t change. His voice stayed infuriatingly even. “Yeah. That’s kinda what happens when people shoot at you.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.” His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing out there?”
“That’s not—” You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what do you mean?”
The question hung between you, thick with unspoken things.
Bucky didn’t move, didn’t blink, just watched you—his gaze steady, patient, like he was giving you the space to say it.
And God, you wanted to.
But the words sat like stones in your throat, impossible to force out. You clenched your jaw, tried to shove them back down, but they wouldn’t go away.
Because the truth was, you weren’t just shaken by the mission.
You were shaken by the way seeing him bleeding had made your stomach drop, by the way his pained groans had made your hands shake, by the way you had wanted—needed—to run to him, to wrap yourself around him and never let go.
You were terrified.
Because this wasn’t just anger or frustration or a heated argument in the middle of a mission.
This was Bucky.
And you couldn’t lose him.
So instead of answering, instead of trying to put words to the panic still rattling inside you, you did the only thing you could do.
You reached for him.
It wasn’t sharp or defiant, wasn’t out of frustration or anger.
You just—needed to touch him.
Your fingers brushed over his wrist, barely there, hesitant. A point of contact. Something to anchor you.
Bucky stilled.
For a second, he just stared at your hand, at the way your fingers curled against his skin like you weren’t even sure if you had permission to hold on.
Then, slowly, he turned his wrist under your palm, letting your fingers slide over his pulse point. His skin was warm, his pulse steady. Alive. Here.
Your throat went tight.
Bucky’s voice was quieter this time. Rougher. “You gonna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”
You swallowed hard, but you didn’t let go.
Your thumb ghosted over his pulse, barely a whisper of touch, but it still wasn’t enough.
You didn’t know what you needed, what you were searching for beneath your fingertips, but the slow, steady thrum of his heartbeat wasn’t easing the raw ache in your chest.
Your eyes flickered around the cabin.
Sam was still dead to the world, Torres nowhere in sight. The only two people awake on this jet were you and Bucky.
Something inside you snapped.
One second, you were gripping his wrist, tethering yourself to him like that alone would make this feeling go away. The next, you were moving before you could stop yourself—sliding out of your seat, crawling into his lap, wrapping yourself around him like holding on tighter would somehow keep him safe, keep him yours.
Bucky made a sound—something low, something confused—but his hands came up anyway, large and warm and steady as they settled on your hips, instinctive.
His breath hitched, and you felt it against your temple, the subtle shudder of his inhale.
You buried yourself closer, curling into his chest, fingers winding into the hair at the nape of his neck. His scent was everywhere—gunpowder and metal and something distinctly him—and you could have drowned in it.
“If you ever tell anyone I did this,” you muttered, voice muffled against his neck, “I will find ways to kill you.”
There was no bite to it. No real threat.
Just you—raw and exposed in a way you didn’t know how to take back.
Bucky let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, but he didn’t pull away.
Didn’t tease.
Didn’t shove you off like he should have.
Instead, his arms shifted, wrapping around you fully, pressing you into him like this was what he had been waiting for, like this was something he had been needing just as badly.
Like he wanted to.
His metal fingers flexed at your waist, pressing against the fabric of your suit, a steadying grip. His other hand flattened against your back, tracing over the curve of your spine as if he was committing the shape of you to memory.
His touch burned.
His warmth was everywhere.
You squeezed your eyes shut, your fingers sliding from his hair to his cheek, brushing over the stubble there, the still-healing cut on his temple. And then—before you could stop yourself—you were tilting his face toward yours.
For the first time since the mission, since the gunfire, since you watched the blood dripping down his temple and felt your entire world tilt on its axis—you met his eyes head-on.
Bucky swallowed.
His gaze dropped—just for a second—to your lips.
It was enough.
Your resolve snapped like a frayed wire.
And before you could second-guess yourself, before you could remind yourself that this was Bucky, before you could convince yourself that you didn’t love him like this—
You kissed him.
It was desperate, messy—nothing like the slow, sweet build-up you had imagined in the deepest corners of your mind.
Your lips crashed against his, your hands fisting in his suit, pulling yourself closer, closer, closer, needing more, needing everything.
Bucky froze.
Didn’t move when your lips parted against his, when your tongue flicked against his bottom lip, when your teeth caught the cut there, tasting blood.
Didn’t react when you kissed him again, soft and searching, when your nose brushed against his, when you sighed against his mouth, the sound fragile and aching.
Didn’t kiss you back.
The realization hit slow, creeping in at the edges of your desperation, sinking its claws into your chest.
He wasn’t—
Oh, God.
The sting of rejection burned hotter than the wounds littering your body.
You tried to breathe, tried to steady yourself, but your lungs felt too tight, your hands shaking as you forced yourself to pull back, to put distance between you before you shattered entirely.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, a shaky breath washing over his lips. Your throat was tight, your vision blurring at the edges. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
Your voice broke.
Bucky was still silent.
And that was somehow worse.
It took a second to register the weight of what you’d done, to catch up to you.
You had kissed him.
You had kissed him and he hadn’t—
Your stomach plummeted.
“I’m—” Your breath hitched, panic clawing at your ribs. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”
You tried to untangle yourself, tried to scramble out of his lap, to preserve whatever dignity you had left, to put distance between you before you completely fell apart in front of him—
But then—
God.
Then his hands tightened on your hips.
Hard.
Before you could even get further, Bucky dragged you back against him, fingers digging into your skin, like he wasn’t about to let you go. He maneuvered you until your legs were astride his hips, your arms around his neck, your chest pressed to his.
Your breath stilled, eyes wide, heart hammering against your ribs.
His expression had changed.
The shock, the hesitation—it was gone.
In its place was something darker.
Something heated and unrelenting.
Something like want.
Bucky’s breathing was uneven, his lips parted, his pupils blown wide as his gaze flickered between your eyes, your mouth, back up.
Then—
Then his fingers traced up your spine, slow and deliberate, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His metal hand trailed over your ribs, up your arm, curling at the back of your neck, tipping your face toward his.
And then, finally, he spoke.
“Doll,” he rasped, voice wrecked and low. “Can you do that again?”
Your stomach flipped.
“I—” You swallowed, your pulse hammering against his fingertips. “You didn’t—”
“I froze,” he cut in, jaw tight. “I won’t now.”
Oh.
Oh.
Your lips parted, heart stumbling over itself.
Bucky let out a breath, something between a laugh and a groan, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. His grip on your hips flexed, strong and sure, and for a split second, all he did was look at you.
Like you were something he didn’t know how to handle.
Like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to devour you or worship you.
Then—slower this time, more sure—he leaned in.
And kissed you.
You had been right.
Bucky Barnes would be your undoing.
He’d kill you with the way he kissed, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to ruin you, like he wanted to take you apart with nothing but the sweep of his tongue and the heat of his mouth.
You felt it—every glide of his tongue against yours, every careful press of his lips, every sharp inhale between kisses—like a spark lighting up your spine, sinking deep, settling between your legs with a heat so intense you could barely breathe through it.
You shook on top of him, the way he touched you sending shockwaves through every nerve ending in your body. His hands were everywhere—tight, possessive squeezes against your hips, reverent drags of his fingers down your back and thighs, gripping you like he never wanted to let go.
A whimper escaped you, completely unbidden, and Bucky groaned, a deep, wrecked sound that vibrated against your mouth.
Then, suddenly, his lips left yours.
You gasped at the loss—until you felt him move.
Felt the warm brush of his breath against your throat, felt his nose skim along the sensitive skin there before his mouth followed.
“Bucky—” His name left you in a sharp breath as he kissed down your neck, slow, teasing, his lips dragging over every inch of exposed skin he could reach.
The problem was—there wasn’t enough.
Your suit covered too much, kept him from truly touching you, and it was driving you out of your mind.
You arched into him, restless, desperate. “Take it off,” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them.
Bucky stilled, his lips pausing against your collarbone.
His hands tightened on your hips, but he didn’t move. Didn’t continue.
“Take it off,” you begged, fingers digging into the fabric of his suit, tracing over the zippers, tugging uselessly at the buttons, trying to feel more. “Please, take it off.”
His breath was uneven, ragged. “Doll, there are people—”
“I don’t care.” You tugged at his collar, leaning in, pressing another desperate kiss to the corner of his mouth. “They won’t see.”
Bucky’s hands flexed against your waist, like he was warring with himself.
You kissed him again, lips parting over his, trying to convince him, trying to make him understand, to feel just how badly you needed this, needed him.
He let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressing to yours, his chest rising and falling unevenly beneath you.
“Please,” you whispered, voice breaking. “Please, before you change your mind—I need this. I need you.”
That did it.
Something snapped in him.
The hesitation vanished.
And then, suddenly, you were weightless.
Before you could even process what was happening, Bucky was standing, lifting you effortlessly, your legs tightening around his waist as he carried you toward the back of the jet, moving with a singular, determined focus that made your breath catch.
Your back hit the cool metal wall of the jet, the impact sending a shiver down your spine, but you barely had time to react before Bucky was kissing you again—hot, rough, devouring.
You gasped against his lips, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding on for dear life.
His hands roamed down your back, over your thighs, squeezing, gripping—and then, finally, finally, he found the zipper of your suit.
“I’m not changing my mind,” he murmured, his voice thick, edged with something raw that made you shiver. His fingers curled around the fabric, tugging just enough for you to feel the weight of his words. “And you’re not changing yours.”
You nodded without thinking, without hesitation, without fear.
There was a faint awareness of the reality around you—the steady hum of the jet beneath you, the wall of gear shielding you from the others, the knowledge that Sam and Torres were mere feet away. The fact that you were both bloodied and bruised from the mission, that maybe this wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place.
But then Bucky moved, and all of that faded.
The zipper came down in a slow, deliberate slide, the rasp of it against your skin sending a shiver down your spine. His hands worked quickly, efficiently, but gentle, pushing the suit down your arms until you could shake it off completely. The moment it was gone, he pulled your arms around his shoulders, guiding them to hold onto him, like he needed you to keep him close.
“Hold on to me,” he murmured, voice quieter now, almost reverent, before dropping to his knees.
Your breath caught, your pulse hammering as his hands gripped your hips, firm and unshakable, guiding the rest of your suit down your legs. His head dipped, his lips grazing the fresh bruise blooming along your hip. He kissed it once, then again—soft, lingering. Worshipping.
You swallowed hard, your fingers threading into his hair as he nuzzled along your thigh, your knee, before rising back to his full height.
“Not getting these off,” he muttered, his fingers ghosting over your soaked panties. You’d be ashamed if it weren’t for the way his lips parted, like he was desperate to get back on his knees, get his mouth on you, There was also something else. The look on his face - regret, you thought - like he wanted to take his time with you, but was disappointed he couldn’t.
His hands moved up your body, skimming over your waist, tracing along your ribs. You shivered at the sensation of warm and cold, flesh and metal. His eyes darkened at the sight of you trembling under his touch.
“We have to be quick.”
You nodded, obedient, but there was something clawing at your chest, something making your breath catch, making your hands shake as you reached for his belt, undoing it with frantic fingers.
“This—” You took a breath, sliding the zipper down, pushing his pants and underwear down in one swift motion. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip already slick with pre-cum. You ached at the sight of him. Ached to drop to your knees and taste him.
Instead, you swallowed hard and met his eyes. “This isn’t how I imagined doing this with you.”
Bucky let out a low, disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head. “Me either.” His voice was rough, wrecked, breaking apart at the seams. His lips brushed your ear as he groaned, deep and ragged, when you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slow, teasing. “Fuck, sweetheart—”
A shudder rolled through him, his forehead pressing to yours, eyes fluttering shut.
“But I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, voice thick with something dangerous, something devoted. “I promise.”
His arms wrapped around you again, lifting you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your hips rolling forward to grind against him.
“Bucky—”
“You want this?” he asked, pressing you back against the cool metal wall, the contrast making you gasp. His mouth was everywhere—dragging down your jaw, across the swell of your breast, open-mouthed and hungry.
“I do. I—”
The words faltered on your tongue.
Your heart was hammering, your chest was aching. This was reckless. This was insane.
This was everything.
You squeezed your eyes shut, pressed your forehead to his, your lips brushing his with every ragged breath. “I want you,” you whispered, voice breaking. “All of you.” Your fingers twisted into his hair, tugging just enough for him to feel it. “Please.”
Bucky exhaled sharply, his grip tightening. “You have me.”
His words were iron, unbreakable, true.
Something cracked inside you.
And then—there was no more hesitation.
His lips crashed into yours again, raw and consuming, leaving no space between you, no air, no room for anything but him. His free hand slid down, tugging at your panties, dragging them to the side. Your own hand moved between you, wrapping around his cock, guiding him to where you needed him.
“Jesus, doll—”
It wasn’t gentle.
It wasn’t careful.
It was one full thrust, his cock pressing inside you inch by inch, filling you completely, stretching you to the edge of pain. Your nails bit into his shoulders, your head falling back against the wall as a gasp tore from your throat.
You felt full. Too full.
Your legs shook around him, your walls clenching tight around his cock, the overwhelming stretch making your eyes slam shut, your mouth parting on a silent moan.
Bucky groaned, deep and wrecked, his forehead pressing to your temple. His body was shaking too, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps against your skin.
“Fuck,” he ground out, metal hand locking around your thigh, keeping you open for him. His other hand tangled in your hair, his grip tight, desperate. “Fuck, you feel—Jesus, sweetheart.”
Your breath hitched, your arms trembling as you clung to him. “I can’t believe you’re inside me,” you whispered, voice barely there, overwhelmed and ruined. “Oh my god, Bucky—”
He snapped his hips forward, and your world split apart.
The pleasure was sharp, blinding, a lightning strike surging through your veins. Your body clenched around him, gripping him so tight he groaned against your neck, his rhythm faltering for a beat. His hands tightened on your hips, metal and flesh both possessive, both desperate to hold on.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he choked out, voice strangled, roughened with something close to reverence. He thrust deep, his cock dragging against every nerve inside you, every sensitive place that made your stomach coil so tight you thought you might shatter.
“For you,” you confessed, arching into him, letting him feel it, letting him know. “All the time. Every time you look at me—”
Bucky snapped his hips forward, harder, deeper, tearing a cry from your lips.
“Shit,” he breathed, voice breaking, cracking at the edges. “Shit, shit—”
“You’re so deep,” you gasped, barely able to breathe. Your nails raked down his back, desperate, pleading, needing. “Bucky, I—I can’t—”
“I’ve got you, doll,” he groaned, pressing his mouth to yours, swallowing every sound you made as he ruined you completely.
Every thrust was a curse, every breath a kiss, and you were careening toward the edge so fast it was dizzying.
The pleasure ripped through you before you could warn him, before you could even process it. Your walls tightened, pulsing around his cock, body shaking so violently that he had to pin you to the wall with his hips, burying himself to the hilt, his hand cradling the back of your head, shielding you as you contorted in his grasp.
His mouth devoured your cries, catching every broken, pleading gasp as the orgasm tore you apart. It was an explosion that didn’t stop, that kept rolling through you, wave after wave.
You rocked against him, desperate for more, still chasing, still needing, barely hearing the way he rasped your name, telling you to slow down, telling you to look at him, warning you that he was—
“God, you’re heaven,” Bucky breathed against your ear, grinding deep inside of you, his voice wrecked, every syllable tinged with something broken, something beautiful. As you slowly came down, you could feel how close he was, how tightly he was holding on, trying to keep himself from falling over the edge. “I can feel you—fuck me, I should pull out.”
“No.”
It came out fast, urgent, a whisper laced with something dangerous. Your legs locked around his hips, keeping him trapped in your hold.
His entire body went rigid. His breathing stilled.
“Baby.”
Bucky’s voice was low, frayed at the edges, filled with disbelief. The word hung in the air between you, unspoken until now.
You froze.
Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew you shouldn’t have given that away. Shouldn’t have let it slip, shouldn’t have handed him something so fragile, something you couldn’t take back.
But what was a drop to someone who was already drowning?
Bucky’s hands tightened on your hips, but he didn’t move. If he wanted to, he could have pulled you off of him without lifting a finger. You had always been painfully aware of how much stronger he was, how easily he could overpower you.
And yet, he stayed still, locked in your hold. Completely at your mercy.
You swallowed, your fingers shaking as they curled into his hair, pulling him closer, refusing to let him run.
“C’mon, doll,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours, stealing a kiss that felt like it was more for him than for you. “Let go.”
His hips rolled, his pelvis grinding against your clit, making you whimper. Your body was still trembling, still oversensitive, but fuck, if he kept going just a little longer—
“I want you to cum inside me,” you pleaded, your voice trembling, your nails digging into his skin.
Bucky froze.
The words echoed between you like a shot fired into the silence.
His hips stilled. His breath hitched. His hands trembled where they held you.
You had to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying out, from begging him to move.
“Doll,” he rasped, warning in his tone, his forehead pressed to yours. He looked wrecked, as undone as you felt.
“Stop arguing with me,” you shot back, voice shaky, grinding against him, dragging your soaked, sensitive heat over him, pulling a moan from his throat so deep it made every hair on your body stand on end.
“Fuck,” he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder, his grip on you bruising.
“I want this.” You tightened your arms around his neck, pressing yourself closer, wrapping him in you, cocooning you both in the moment. “I’m begging you, Bucky. Please.”
“It’s—” He swallowed thickly, voice strangled.
“Irresponsible, yes, but what’s a little irresponsibility?” A breathless laugh escaped you, but your voice broke at the end, too raw to keep up the teasing. You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply before forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I’m on the pill.”
His jaw clenched.
“I need this,” you whispered, the truth clawing up your throat before you could stop it. “I need you.” Your voice cracked, your breath hitched, emotion swelling too fast, too much. “You don’t get it, I—”
You didn’t even realize you were crying until he softened.
Something in his eyes clicked, something changed, and suddenly, his arms were wrapping around you tighter, his hands cradling your face like you were precious, like you were fragile, like he had to hold you together before you broke apart completely.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, kissing your temple, your cheek, your jaw. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”
And then he moved.
His thrusts were slower, deeper, his lips brushing yours between each movement. His hands wandered, soothing, worshipping.
“Giving you exactly what you want, yeah?”
You nodded frantically, breath labored, losing yourself in the way he felt, the way he surrounded you, consumed you.
“Don’t pull out,” you begged, voice barely there, a whisper of devotion, of desperation.
Bucky let out a shaky breath, forehead pressed to yours. “I won’t, baby,” he promised, voice breaking. His pace picked up, hips rolling against yours, pushing deeper, harder, dragging against your oversensitive clit in a way that had you whimpering. “Gonna fill you up like you wanted.”
Your toes curled at the words, at the image, your walls fluttering around him.
“Oh, please don’t stop,” you gasped, rolling your hips, needing, aching.
Bucky groaned, his head dropping back as his rhythm faltered, as he snapped his hips harder, chasing the end, giving you what you wanted, giving you everything.
“Fill me up, baby,” you pleaded, your voice a broken, desperate thing. “Make me yours..”
And that—
That was what finally broke him.
Bucky snapped.
A curse tore from his throat, his grip on you bruising, unrelenting as his hips slammed into you, chasing the inevitable, giving you everything. His rhythm turned frantic, needy, his body demanding what you had just offered.
And you took it.
You craved it.
Your body tightened around him, coaxing him deeper, begging for more. Every thrust was an answer to a question neither of you had spoken aloud, a declaration in the language of skin and breath and longing.
“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he gritted out, his forehead pressing to yours, his breath hot against your mouth. His hand slid down between you, his metal fingers finding your clit and pressing, rubbing tight circles, dragging you back to the edge with him.
Your body shook, every muscle tensed, the pleasure sharpening into something unbearable, something deadly.
“Bucky—”
“I know, baby,” he groaned, his voice cracking at the edges, his own body trembling as he held himself back, as he waited for you. “Give it to me.”
You did.
Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, knocking the air from your lungs, blinding in its intensity. Your body locked around him, your hands clutching desperately at his shoulders as the pleasure ripped through you in violent, unrelenting waves.
And that was it. That was everything.
Bucky followed, slamming into you one last time before breaking, burying himself as deep as he could go, a shuddering groan torn from his chest as he spilled into you, filling you like he promised. You felt it as his warm cum Costas your walls, so much of it you weren’t sure there wasn’t some spilling out.
His body trembled, his arms locked tight around you, holding you close as he gave in, as he let go, as he let himself have this.
For a moment, there was silence.
Just the sound of your breathing, labored and uneven. The quiet, lingering shock of what you had just done.
Bucky’s forehead pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his heart hammering so hard you could feel it through his suit.
Neither of you spoke.
Neither of you moved.
You stayed like that—wrapped around him, his cock still twitching inside of you, his arms cradling you like you might disappear if he let go.
You let your eyes drift shut, your fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against the back of his neck, the weight of him comforting, grounding, even as reality started creeping back in.
You should let go.
You should move.
You should say something.
But when Bucky finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hands coming up to frame your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones—
The words died on your lips.
Because he was looking at you like you had just ruined him. Like you had just changed something fundamental inside of him.
Like you had just made him yours.
And you had.
Slowly,, Bucky eased his grip, his arms still wrapped around you, his hands still mapping the shape of you, like he needed to memorize every curve, every ridge, every place he’d touched.
His lips brushed your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw—soft, tender kisses that made your heart clench, made something deep inside you ache.
It felt too big.
Too much.
But you couldn’t stop touching him.
Your fingers traced the lines of his jaw, the stubble rough beneath your touch. You pushed damp hair out of his face, ran your knuckles down the slope of his nose, his cheekbone, memorizing him the way he was memorizing you.
A hand slid up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb tracing your cheek, his expression unreadable.
When he finally spoke, his eyes were soft, but serious.
“You meant it,” he murmured.
It wasn’t a question.
You swallowed, lips parting, breath hitching.
“Bucky—”
His other hand was still pressed to your lower stomach, like he could feel himself inside you, like he could brand this moment into your skin.
“I felt it,” he whispered, almost to himself. “The way you—” He exhaled sharply, like the words were too heavy to get out.
You closed your eyes, trying to give yourself some kind of reprieve from the enormity of it all.
“Don’t run from this.” His voice was so calm, but it cut through you like a knife. “Please, doll.”
Your throat tightened.
You weren’t sure if it was the aftershocks of pleasure or the overwhelming emotion of it all, but your body was still trembling—and Bucky felt every bit of it.
His arms tightened around you, securing you to him, anchoring you.
“I’m not running,” you whispered.
He pulled back just enough to search your face, like he didn’t quite believe you.
And maybe you didn’t quite believe yourself.
Because what came next?
What happened after this?
There was you before Bucky Barnes.
There was you after Bucky Barnes.
And they weren’t the same.
3K notes · View notes
sweetnothingtm · 8 months ago
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inspired by this video ♡
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thinking about biker!simon who meets you one night when your car breaks down on the side of the highway, and you can’t manage to get a tow truck out so late at night - so of course he offers you a ride.
he’d pull up beside you and immediately notice the way you’re pouting and huffing in frustration, whining over the phone about how you’re all alone in the middle of nowhere - and how you can’t afford to call a cab, so surely a gentleman should help a poor girl out. and then simon is sitting on his bike with his arms lazily crossed in front of him leaned forward, killing the engine as he asked you what was wrong.
biker!simon would slip off his gloves and lean over the hood of your car as you meekly explained how you really should have changed your oil sooner - and that you really hate to be such a bother, but could you get a ride home?
he’d tell you that a pretty little thing like you shouldn’t even have to worry about something like this, that he could take you home and make sure you’re all safe and sound - and you think maybe he’s hitting on you, but you’re so shy and maybe he’s just being courteous. strangers normally offer to teach you how to change your oil and that next time they’ll make sure to bring an extra helmet - right?
biker!simon would pat the seat behind him and mumble something along the lines of how he usually rides fast, so you’ll have to hold on tight. biker!simon would offer you his jacket and zip it up for you, practically groaning at the way you bite your lip and avoid his gaze - but that damn helmet is so daunting, and how are you supposed to focus when he smells like pine and tobacco?
you would anxiously say that you’ve never ridden a motorcycle before, how it’s just too intimidating - plus you’ve never met anyone who owned a bike. biker!simon would be smirking under his helmet and humming in satisfaction when your arms tighten around his waist as he weaves between lanes.
biker!simon would hold your thigh the entire ride home - and is it just you or is he gently squeezing your leg while talking about how you’re being such a good girl and that for your first time riding, you’re doing so well?
and when he drops you off at home, biker!simon has his hand rubbing up and down your thigh as his bike idles in your parking lot. he would talk about how he’s so glad to have helped out, and how he’d love to pay for the tow truck - it’s the least he can do when you’ve been such a princess.
even though you insist that it’s just too much, and how you really shouldn’t be accepting such gifts from strangers - he’s done more than enough, and is there anything you can do to make it up to him? but then biker!simon is dismissing your concerns with the wave of a hand, telling you that he’s more than happy to help a doll like you.
biker!simon says something about how you don’t need to be strangers, that you’re just such a sweetheart, and how he’d love to take you out sometime soon. you’d smile sweetly to him and feign consideration for his offer - despite the fact you’ve already made up your mind when you were trying to memorize his tattoos and the way that he’d glance over his shoulder to check on you throughout the drive.
he’d help you off his bike and walk you to your apartment because he wouldn’t want you to get into any more trouble tonight, right? when you shamelessly type your number into his phone, biker!simon is pulling off his helmet to reveal a balaclava that hides nearly everything except two dark eyes and the cocky smirk plastered across his lips. and you’re mesmerized by the way he lowers his voice and leans down to speak to you, one hand gripping his helmet as the other sits on your lower back the whole walk to your apartment.
the next day he’s leaning against his bike outside your building, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as you shyly rock on your feet and stutter over a thousand thank-you’s - and he’s so focused on the way you rub your thighs together and bite your lip that he almost misses when you say that you really can’t thank him enough for everything, and that you really do plan to make it up to him.
7K notes · View notes
kamitv · 9 months ago
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▷ Premature
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Sypnosis . How they react to getting caught jerking off/How they jerk off when you’re not around. / Pairings . (Separate) Toji Fushiguro x f!reader, Geto Suguru x f!reader, Gojo Satoru x f!reader, & Nanami Kento x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, masturbation, pervertedness, praise, needy men, filth, dirty talk, non-curse au, degrading, established relationships etc. / wc . 5.5k
A/N: not proofread in the slightest— I apologize in advance for the errors. This is a mix of two requests; one from my lovely 👍anon; If it's not too much trouble, would you take a request for how JJK men jack it to reader? To a picture, their thoughts, or maybe reader asks them perhaps? & jjk men getting caught jerking off [MDNI]
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★ Toji Fushiguro
He’s the kinda guy that you could never be on the phone with past midnight. Why? Cause’ suddenly his voice is getting deeper, his comments are growing more suggestive, and he’s got a hand wrapped around his cock as he gets off to the sound of your voice.
What the hell are you even talking about? He’s got no idea, all he knows is that your soft tone, laced with such a faint sleepiness to it, has his cock aching within his hand.
You wouldn’t even notice he’s jerking off for a while either, not until he groans out your name.
The sound makes your entire body freeze and all you can do is stare at your phone, tipping your head to the side curiously before you tap on your phone to bring the ongoing phone call to the forefront of your screen.
You’d get quiet and he’d get louder, grunting out an all too deep, “Fuck,” That has you smiling to yourself a little. Especially when you hear him grunting as if he were trying to keep his sounds in.
But, your moment of confidence only lasts until the deep baritone of his voice snaps you out of it, “Keep fuckin’ talkin’, doll,” Toji orders and god does he sound sexy like this.
There’s the faintest hint of need in his voice that has you biting your lower lip to hold back the toothy smile trying to present itself on your face. Gulping, “Toji…” You murmur, and your ears don’t miss how he sighs heavily.
On his end, he’s got his legs sprawled out and his head tosses back at the sound of you calling his name, “What?” He’d huff, almost as if what he’s doing hasn’t become rather obvious to you.
Your voice is suddenly closer to the phone and it makes Toji grunt, “You okay over there? Y’sound… busy,” You utter teasingly.
“Mmmh… mhm, m’fine, jus’-, hahh, keep… keep talkin’,” His long pauses and heavy exhales were making you squirm on your end. You could only imagine how he looked right now— big hand wrapped around his cock as he gave himself quick tugs to the sound of your voice.
You start to shift around in your bed and almost forget to respond as you listen closely. Turning your volume up, you could hear almost everything. His sounds became vivid, a messy noise of spit heard as Toji wets his cock up in ways he’s known you to, his hand jerking his dick in quicker pulls due to the slickness of his saliva and precum mixing together.
“Hahhh, fuck,” Toji pants and starts slowing his hand down just so he can speak properly, “Why’d y’stop talkin’? Hm?”
“I uh… I thought I heard something, sorry,” You hum as you fake cluelessness. “Anywho, what was I saying again? Do you remember?”
Ah, you’d decided to test him thinking he wasn’t paying attention at all to what you were discussing earlier. Jokes on you, Toji knows how to multitask (sometimes), “Uh, you were tellin’ me about your day or somethin’,” He hums casually.
“Riight,” You chuckle. An idea pops into your mind and you decide to use his lack of full attention to what you were previously discussing to your advantage, “Well, me and my friends went to this new sweet spot today.”
“Yeah? ‘Nd what else, doll?” Toji sounded so clearly occupied but he was trying his best to just get you to keep talking. Every word that left your lips went straight to his cock.
You grin, “Well, it was pretty hot today so I got lucky they had popsicles! The one I got was suuper big, could’ hardly fit it in my mouth,” You explain.
Was this story true? Not exactly, but when else do you get the opportunity to tease your boyfriend like this?
Toji’s eyes flicker as he processes what the hell you just said to him, his cock twitching at the thought of your lips parting to take something large into your mouth— you knew what the hell you were doing to him and he was starting to pick up on it.
Swallowing thickly, Toji hums, “Oh yeah? Reminds me of a couple of other things that can’t really fit in your mouth…”
“Hm? Like what, Toji?” You murmur innocently.
Your voice had softened by a lot and it drove him crazy. Such a clear false innocence laced into your question had the man picturing your expression. The way you’re probably sitting there with your eyes all wide and curious, batting those pretty lashes of yours like you don’t know what the hell you’re asking him.
Scoffing, “Don’t play dumb, y’know what the hell m’talkin’ about.” Toji drawls out, voice a bit rougher with you.
You ignore his little attitude and let out a giggle, “Do I?”
“Yeah, y’do,” Your boyfriend huffs. His breathing is noticeably heavier and little did you know, he had his head resting back and his eyes on the ceiling as he fisted his cock rapidly, slick sounds masked by his voice every time he spoke.
As if to make his state worse, your voice dips into something more sultry, “I’m really not sure Toji… What else is too big to fit in my mouth? Hm?” You hum.
“Fuck-,” Toji lets out a slight gasp, his breath stuttering for a moment before he grunts, “My cock, baby. Y’know this.”
The way he gave up on getting you to say it first has you smiling, “Mmmh, I dunno Toji,” God you were saying his name too much and it was making his balls ache, “I had your cock down my throat perfectly fine the other day if I recall correctly.”
“Filthy fuckin’ girl,” Toji abruptly rasps out, making you gulp as you felt a throb in your core, “Where’d y’learn to talk like that, huh?”
You snicker, “From my boyfriend who enjoys jerking off to the sound of my voice.”
And just like that, Toji can feel his orgasm approaching— damn you and your slick remarks, you only ever acted like this over the phone. You knew better in person but, he didn’t mind right now.
“Hahh, fuck you,” Toji fires back.
“You want to right now, don’t you?” You were getting confident all of a sudden and he groans before shutting his mouth just to listen to you speak. “Wanna feel my tongue on your cock, huh?”
His hand squeezes onto his cock and a strangled grunt leaves the back of his throat, “Shit-,” Toji’s haw drops a little, “Don’t stop talkin’, m’close.”
“Yeah? Gonna cum thinkin’ about fuckin’ my throat, right?” You murmur.
And he definitely was, it’s all he could think about right now. Especially with how bold you were being, how could he not picture you on your knees and taking his cock down your throat as he face fucks you just to teach you a lesson about talking to him like this?
Then you just kept going, “…Or jus’ from me talking? Y’like my voice that much, Toji?” You ask.
He’s on his end just nodding as his brows furrow— when the hell was he this damn needy for you? “Yes, fuck… fuckin’ hell, yes, I fuckin’ love your voice baby,” Toji tells you.
God you wish you could see him right now. You just know he’s sweating, cockhead angry and leaking at your every word, big thighs parted yet jittery as he gets closer and closer.
“C’mon then big guy, cum f’me so you can come over,” Suddenly your tone is aroused and Toji’s squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.
“S’late, doll,” He argues.
You tut, “Yeah well listenin’ to you jerk off turned me on so now you’ve gotta come over ‘nd deal with it.”
Some nerve you had. As if you wouldn’t be the one all teary eyed and pouty after a few kisses from him…
Yet, Toji’s not thinking about that right now, mindlessly agreeing just because he needs you right now and his hand is starting not to cut it anymore, “Hahhh, alright-, shit. Whatever the fuck you want, doll. I’ll be over in ten.”
You snicker, “Make it five.”
He swears you’ll be the death of him.
Scoffing, “Needy ass girl… agh… can’t wait ten minutes?”
“You couldn’t wait til’ I got off the phone to jerk off?” You argue.
He’s smirking despite the slight irritation that creeps up on him due to how bratty you were being, “…Shut up.”
You smile, “Come shut me up.”
“Oh I’m about to.”
★ Geto Suguru
Moaning your name as if that’ll cause your hand to be wrapped around his cock instead of your panties— Suguru uses your clothes to get off when you’re not around.
He doesn’t bother to call you or text you. It’s usually late when he gets like this so he just uses the lace panties you “accidentally” left over at his place.
Sometimes he’s got the fabric wrapped around his cock as he jerks off and other times he’s got it pressed up to his nose, inhaling what little of your scent he could get as his hips fuck into the O-shape he’s created with his hand. If he inhales strong enough, he swears he can still smell your pussy and that alone makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.
“Fuuuck,” Geto moans unashamed into the air. What’s he gotta hold his voice back for? Even if you were to ever catch him like this, he knows you’re just as much of a perv as he is.
His hand has a strong grip on his base as he gets himself off with your panties. Just thinking about how the fabric clung to your cunt for hours on end has his cock dripping pre onto the floor.
“Fuckin’ miss you, agh,” Suguru would groan thoughtlessly into the air, recalling the last time he had your pussy on his tongue, how sweet how tasted, how addicting you are.
Within said imagination, he doesn’t even realize he’s moving your panties to his mouth, his tongue seeping out and pressing into the fabric as if that’ll give him a taste of you again. Is it the same as sucking on your cunt til’ your legs are shaking? No, of course not. Does it make Geto’s hand milk the fuck out of his cock? Well, yes.
Light and faint whines slip past his lips, “Ha-ahh… taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” Geto groans like you’re right there with him.
Shit, he wants you on his tongue again. He can never get enough of it— the way your pussy sloshes all over his mouth every time he eats you out, how you whine his name and beg him for a break, or even the way you get greedy as your orgasm nears and you start bucking your hips against him.
Either way, it’s all he can think about right now. And it doesn’t get any better when his eyes open and looks down at himself, your panties clung tightly in between his teeth as he envisions you below him with a mouth wide and ready for him.
Oh the way you always take his cock down your throat never fails to make his eyes cross. You’d suck on him like your life depended on it, moaning against his shaft whenever he started thrusting into your mouth or whining when he forces your head down some more.
And he’s so close as he thinks about it more— picturing your wet lips parted around his flushed tip, drool slipping out the corner of your mouth, and your tongue slipping against him languidly-
“Suguru?” The sound of your voice makes him moan in surprise before he’s turning his head to look at you.
Even caught in the act, he only gets turned on even more. His brows tense and he pants heavily as his eyes meet yours, quickly noticing the way your gaze dropped down to his achingly hard cock.
You were supposed to be asleep out on his living room couch where he’d left you moments ago but yet, here you were— standing with your eyes all wide and curious, taking careful steps toward the man as you cross your arms, and giving him this look that drives him crazy.
You gulp loudly as you look up to your boyfriend’s face, “Are those my panties in your mouth?”
“M-Mmhm,” Geto hums with an impatient nod of his head.
Your lashes bat at the man before you find yourself standing right in front of him, placing but a single hand on his chest before taking the other and removing the lace from the man’s mouth.
“That’s filthy Sugu,” You whisper carefully.
The way his lips part and how his eyes lower on you, a groan slipping from him due to how close your body was and the way you’d touched him so softly. “Uhuh, I know, baby,” His voice has the faintest shake to it as he mumbles out an answer.
Smiling slightly, you keep your eyes directly up on his despite his hand not stopping on his cock for even a second, “You could’ve woken me up if you needed me, Suguru.” You utter.
He cracks a lazy grin for a moment, “I jus’ needed your panties.”
You frown and your brows tense a bit, “…Pervert.” You whisper, watching how his body twitches in reaction before he’s leaning his face down and closer to yours.
“Mhm,” Geto hums, “Yeahhh, tha’s me, princess. Keep tellin’ me how fuckin’ nasty I am.” Your boyfriend purrs, earning a wide eyed look from you as you gaze up at him in surprise.
You comply, trailing a single finger down along his chest as you tip your head to the side and speak, “You’re filthy Sugu, gettin’ off with my panties… Bet you wanted to get caught like this too.”
“Maybe,” Geto tells you with that awfully cocky grin on his face, “But you’re not any better. I caught you fingerin’ yourself to my voice last week.”
You gulp, “T-That was…”
He’s leaning down past your face and you flinch as his lips make sudden contact with your neck, “Different, huh?” He rasps out, hot breath tickling the side of your neck.
Tense, your hand stops moving along his body and you angle yourself to look down at how aggressively he’s fisting his cock right now, “Yeah…” You murmur, completely distracted by the sight below you.
His hand got faster on his cock, quicker tugs made the longer you stared down at him and cum leaking from his tip as he grunted against your neck.
“Sure it was,” Geto whispers, but his voice is a lot lighter than you expected it to be. “Now are you gonna just stand here and watch me jerk off or are y’gonna get on your knees ‘nd take care of me?” He asks, lifting his face a little to kiss the space below your ear.
You unconsciously lick your lips the longer you stare down at his cock, watching him drip onto the floor and make the slightest mess before you chuckle, “That’s no way to ask, Sugu.”
He scoffs against you but you don’t miss the quietest whine leaving his throat before he speaks, “Funny cause I wasn’t fuckin’ askin’.”
“Oh?” You snicker at your boyfriend before turning your head to meet his gaze, “You’re mean when you get caught in the act…”
He stares you down and resists every neuron in his body that’s telling him to press his lips into yours, “Am I?”
“Mhm, as if you’re not embarrassed,” You tease. God you were driving him crazy— looking at him so longingly, your lips nearly on his, your body warm with how close you were to him and your hand low and near his cock.
Fuck, one more touch from you and he’d be cumming in seconds. “I’m not.” Geto replies to you.
You pull your lower lip into your mouth for a second and his gaze drops, “You sure? Y’know how long I was watchin’ you before I said something?”
“Fuck, how long baby?” He practically mumbles. He needed your touch so badly, you were too close to not be all over him right now and his restraint was waning by the second.
“A few minutes, saw you puttin’ my panties to your nose ‘nd everything,” As you speak, your hands are lifting and his eyes are widening.
Your arms wrap around his neck and he’s forced to stop his hand on his cock before he blows his load too soon, “Yeah?” He breathes.
You nod and inch closer, “Mhm.”
“Bet that got you all hot ‘nd bothered, huh?” Geto whispers, cocking his head to the side before placing a hand to your waist and holding you tenderly, “That’s why you said somethin’ right? Cause y’like watchin’ me like this?”
Your eyes were on his lips now and you’d half-heard everything he just said, shrugging out a little, “Maybe…” In response before your lips are finally on his.
Geto can’t even control the groan that pours out of him while his lips move over yours, tongue slotting into your mouth and hand squeezing onto your waist as if to tell you not to move.
The kiss doesn’t even last that long before he’s letting out a whine as his cockhead brushes against your body, “Fuck-, enough of this teasin’, I need you princess.”
★ Gojo Satoru
You were going to take it upon yourself to ask your husband how he jerks off when you’re not around but instead of answering your text with an explanation like a normal person— he sends you a video.
Unfiltered, less than a second after clicking on the video, you’re met with his glistening cock on your screen. Slicked with spit and precum trailing along his veins, a pretty pink tip twitching for some attention, and a bright flash from his cellphone giving you the perfect view of his lower half.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t squeeze your legs together as soon as you started the video. Then there’s his voice that you hear about five seconds in.
“Wanted to see how I jerk off, huh? Dirty girl,” Oh his tone was low with you, the sound filling your ears as you bat your lashes and gulped. Thank god for your headphones, despite being home alone, because you could hear every little sound. “You’re lucky I was already in the middle of it when you texted, y’know.”
Although he can’t hear you, you scoff, “Slut.”
“Got’ this hard thinkin’ about you,” Gojo whispers suddenly, his slender fingers wrapping around his cock carefully, “I miss you, pretty girl,” His words and the way he’s slowly touching himself for you has your body hot and it’s only been a few seconds.
Pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, your eyes narrow on his hand— how tenderly it slides up and up until he reaches his tip, the way his thumb runs in between the slit of his cockhead and he lets out a hiss.
Then his hand lowers and the sound that follows is so wet, “Fuuck, I wish it was you touchin’ me right now. You always make me feel s’good,” Gojo pants unintentionally, “Miss your lips on me too. How long’s it been? A week? Fuckin’ hate leavin’ you for work…”
You chuckle lightly at his moment of rambling but the way his hand picks up in speed ever so slightly has your smile fading and your focus returning. Sometimes you wonder how he even fits inside you— his cock is so long and from his base to his tip, he looks like he’d split you open (he does).
Your thighs are squeezing together again and you’re starting to miss him the more you watch, the vivid and deep sound of Gojo humming your name causing a chill to slip down your spine.
And you swear you were about to get to the best part of the video he’s sent because his hand was moving at a quickened pace but you’re interrupted by an incoming video call from the man in question.
You practically jump out of your skin due to your ringtone before you scramble to answer it.
Batting your eyelashes as the call connects, you swallow hard, “H-Hello-“
“Knowin’ you’re watchin’ that video isn’t enough f’me,” Gojo huffs out— now he’s got the camera propped up for you and you can see most of his body.
His shirt is long gone, same with his sweats, his legs are spread far and wide, hard and throbbing cock standing straight up as his hand tugs at it in needy little pulls. Gojo’s got his head tossed back and you have the clearest view of his sweaty Adam’s apple, a slip of sweat sliding down along his chest.
He’s panting like crazy and his hand is fucking his cock much more aggressively than he was in that video you’d been watching, “Show me somethin’ baby, I fuckin’ need you,” Gojo huffs impatiently as he shifts his head back into place to meet your gaze on his screen.
You gulp, “S-Satoru, I-“
“Please?” He whines so suddenly and it has your pussy throbbing, especially with how he lifts his hips into his hand because of simply looking at your face, “Wanna see somethin’ pretty, show me your pussy, please?”
It's almost embarrassing how fast you move for your needy husband, going to prop your own phone up similar to how he’s done his and then discarding your clothes in a heartbeat.
“Spread yourself apart f’me, baby,” Gojo groans out his instructions and you’re following his every word— parting your legs wider and moving two finds to your cunt to spread your pussy apart for him.
“Mmh, like this, ‘Toru?” You utter with a slightly shaky hand and an embarrassed expression.
You see the way Gojo’s jaw sinks a little and how his brows furrow as he fists his cock faster, almost eagerly, “Juus’ like that, sweetheart-, fuck. I miss bein’ inside you,” Gojo says before tilting his head to really study your cunt, “Look how wet y’re f’me ‘nd I’m not even there, shit.”
You’ve got your pointer and ring finger holding your cunt open and you shift your middle finger to give yourself the slightest bit of relief, “It’s cause of your video..”
“Yeah?” Gojo smiles, “Y’liked watchin’ me jerk off?”
His hand slows, palm steadily traveling down along his shaft as a whine leaves him. Your pretty pussy on full display for him and making his balls twitch. He wanted to be fucking you full of him so badly.
“Uhuh,” Your softer tone hits his ears and Gojo grunts.
“Shiiit,” He breathes out before biting his bottom lip. He’d started to drool without even realizing it and his cock was dripping in cum already, “Look at that pussy leak f’me-, holy fuck.” Your husband moans, “My voice get you like this too?”
You’ve started to tease yourself with merely one finger and you can’t move your eyes away from his needy cock, “M-Mhm…” You hum.
“Aww, baby…” Gojo coos. Then you were slipping two fingers into yourself and trying your best to get off along with him, “Look at your fingers tryin’ t’please you like how I do,” He cracks a smile, “Doesn’t feel the same, does it?”
Shaking your head, “N-No, ‘Toru. I need you.”
“Hahh, need you too baby,” Gojo moans, hand picking back up. The faintest plp plp plp followed his movements as bits of cum dripped from his cockhead and onto the floor, “Look at how fuckin’ hard I am cause of you.” He huffs just before glancing down to himself.
Ah, he was making a mess but he was a bit too dazed with arousal to pay any mind to it right now.
You bite your lip and hum before tipping your head back and shutting your eyes, “Mmmh…”
“M’gonna get home and fuck you til’ we both pass out, I swear.” Gojo huffs. His voice is airy and his hand is getting a bit messy now.
Your lips part and you exhale heavily, “Can’t wait.”
“Yeah? Y’can’t wait huh?” Your husband grunts, practically fucking his cock up into his hand at this point, “Maybe I’ll get ya' pregnant so I have an excuse not t’leave you like this.”
Your legs start to close a little and you moan, “Satoru, m-mgh…”
“Fuck, m’gonna cum,” He groans pornographically into the air, “Wish I was cummin’ inside you, fuckin’ you nice ‘nd full, watchin’ you make a mess on me-, hahh… agh…” His lips quiver a bit as he gets close and he’s panting so hard that the camera is starting to fog up a little.
“T-Toru,” You whine for him— missing him oh so desperately now that you’re nearing your own orgasm.
“Yeah, mhm, m’here baby,” Gojo chants, breath heavy and hand jolting up and down his cock fervently, “C’mon, cum with me. You can do it f’me pretty girl.”
You’re nodding, he’s nodding— both of you are getting there together and whining each other’s names. Gojo’s veins are popping up on his hand with how tightly his gripping onto his cock and his mouth hangs open, eyelids heavy and vision blurring while he moans your name.
“Miss you so fuckin’ much,” Gojo groans finally before he glances to his phone to see you releasing all over your fingers— the sight leads him to cum right then and there with his kegs trembling slightly.
Fuck, he needed to get home soon.
★ Nanami Kento
You were surprised to walk in on your boss jerking off.
“Oh fuck,” Echoed into the air, his voice thick with lust as he hadn’t even noticed you’d entered his office yet.
With the way his desk was, you could see everything. His muscular thighs parted like a damn slut, cock barely tugged out of his slacks, big veiny hand working to bring himself to an orgasm.
Truth be told, it’s your fault he’s like this— his cute lil’ assistant, walking around in those tight ass skirts he’s asked you not to wear thousands of times over again. And yet you do it anyway. Maybe because you know where it gets you with your boss or maybe because you wanted a situation exactly like this.
Sure, he’s your boss but he’s also the same man that fucks you til’ you can’t walk straight whenever you request him to do so.
But this? Well, you’ve never been so aroused by walking in on a man pleasing himself before. It had to be his deep groans of your name or even the size of his cock and how it exceeded the size of his hand, how you could picture your own hands around it and how you know your hands would be so pale in comparison.
Nanami’s got his eyes shut and he’s huffing and puffing through his nose, chest rising and falling rapidly the more he stokes his cock. All he can think about is you and the way you bent over in front of him less than thirty minutes ago.
He had half a mind to call you into his office and tell you to bend over his desk the same way— thinking of fucking your tight cunt til’ you’re making too much noise and he has to shove two thick fingers in your mouth to shut you up.
“Fuuck,” It’s rare you even hear him curse so to hear his mouth so vulgar now has you swallowing hard before you lock his office door with a slight click following.
His eyes bat open and he doesn’t bother stopping because he already knew it was you who’d walked in, you’re the only one who does so without knocking.
“Sir?” You utter gently, making his face twist up in arousal.
“Here, now.” Is all he can grunt out to you.
You’re moving toward him obediently with your panties soaking the closer you get. “Mr.-“
“Kento,“ He utters, “Please, fuck-, just… hahh, say my name, sweetheart.”
“Kento,” You correct in a sultry tone, “I didn’t know you were… occupied in here. What if someone else walked in-“
Nanami rolls his eyes at you and then lets off a scoff, “No one but you would,” He huffs, “Now get on my desk.”
You freeze as you find yourself standing right beside his desk, “What?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself-, just…” He trails off a little once his eyes meet yours and you watch his lashes flutter while his brows pinch together, “Oh fuck, I need… hah, fuuck.”
You chew on your bottom lip before smirking and stepping past his desk, closer to him, “Need what, Ken? Get it out…” You whisper.
“Damn vixen,” Nanami groans as he tosses his head back.
Glancing down at his cock, you watch as his tip grows a bit white— cum peeping out from his fat cockhead and making you swallow thickly.
You then look back up to his face and start leaning down, placing your hands on the armrests of his chair to keep yourself up before uttering, “Do you want me to touch you?”
His response is instant, “God, yes.”
“How?” You murmur with a smirk, shifting your legs so that they straddle one of his, “How do you want me to touch you?”
Nanami opens his eyes and yet again and he grunts at how ridiculously close you are to him, “Anywhere.”
You tease, “Anywhere?”
“Yes, hurry up,” Nanami pleads. His voice nearly went desperate for you and you swore you heard something needy underlining in his tone.
Playing off of that, “Needy are we?” You comment before seating yourself on his thigh.
“Yes,” He gulps and begins to stammer while your arms wrap around his neck, “J-Just-“
Oh he can’t even finish his request before your lips are pressing into his neck and he’s groaning loudly. Cock aching for you whilst your lips move along his tensed skin. Each kiss from you earned groan after groan from him, the sound vibrating against his throat and his hand squeezing his cock tighter.
“Fuck,” Nanami curses yet again as you kiss below his sharp jawline.
“You’re one naughty man, y’know. Did you want me to catch you like this?” You murmur against his warm skin, feeling the way he tenses up to your voice.
Nodding and humming a carefully little, “Mhm,” In response, Nanami’s completely at your mercy now, silently begging for you to continue down the path you’re on.
You smile and glance down to his hand still working his cock, cunt clenching around nothing the longer you stare, “Ken…”
“Y-Yes?” He stutters a bit and mentally curses himself for it— he knows you’ll tease him more about it later.
Planting another kiss beneath his jaw, you chuckle, “You’re drippin’ onto the floor,” You utter so seductively that he just groans and throws his head back again. “Makin’ suuch a big mess all because of… what? Hm?”
“You,” He huffs, “You and that… that fucking skirt,” Nanami says through gritted teeth.
“Well,” You whisper with a slight smile still on your face, “If you have a problem with it you can always take it off of me.”
His free hand is gripping onto your waist faster than you have time to react and you let out a slight noise in surprise. Nanami’s lifting his head and angling himself to your neck, lips latching onto you as he lets out a groan like a man starved.
“Yeah?” He hushes out.
Then he’s pushing you back slightly and releasing his cock, both of you soon shoved to your feet with how quick and swift his movements are. He has you stumbling backwards until you bump into his desk and then there’s a hand grabbing at the side of your neck, tugging you into a deep kiss.
It’s hot and heavy, even as he pulls away from you and pants, lifting a thumb to drag your lower lip down, “Lay back and spread your legs for me then,” Nanami murmurs in that deep tone of his.
You gulp, “Sir, I-“
He cuts you off by slipping his thumb into your mouth, “You said I could get that skirt off of you. Don’t go back on your word and do as I said.”
Gazing at him for a singular moment longer, you lift yourself onto his desk and start parting your legs for the man. His thumb leaves your mouth and his finger is slightly wet as he places his palms to your thighs, slipping his grasp up to your hips and beneath that skirt of yours.
The fabric starts bundling up at you hips and you let out a sigh as you lean your upper half back.
Then, Nanami moves to tug at his tie and sends you a look of warning, “And don’t be too loud like last time… You don’t want others to hear how much of a slut you are behind closed doors, right?”
You release a scoff, “Says the man who was jerking off in his office.”
He freezes before smiling slightly, “Touché.”
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gojosprettyprincess · 2 months ago
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𝜗𝜚˚⋆ GRIMY OLD MAN TOJI<3
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Tw- honestly don’t read this unless you’re weird af. Toji’s a PERV. Somno, daddy kink, light anal play, squirting, not proofread one bit.
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Grimy old man Toji! who’s cock immediately starts twitching in his pants with sheer excitement when you disclosed to him that you’re still a virgin and wasn't very experienced in the sex department on your first date.
As the words left your mouth, Toji's weathered face lit up with a lecherous grin. His jaded eyes narrowed, revealing hunger as it slowly roamed over the smooth valley of your exposed tits. he already knows he’s going to have so much fun with you. "Well, ain't that a treat" he rasped, his voice gravelly and filled with intent. "Don't worry doll, I'll take good care of ya, I can even teach you a thing or two".
Grimy old man Toji! who’s sickly infatuated with the relatively noticeable size difference between the two of you. The way your big, beautiful eyes peer up at him while his massive frame is towering over your smaller figure— a lustful glint floating in your eyes as you stared up at the older man, fully paying attention to the words coming out his mouth like a good girl while he spoke to you.
You look so cute and innocent, he’d be lying if he says he can’t make out the dark red hearts gleaming in your eyes. it makes him want to slap his leaky cock across your face and watch as his pearlescent pre-cum drips and moistens your soft skin.
Grimy old man Toji! who loves rubbing your sticky pussy while you’re peacefully sleeping next to him at night— he lowly chuckles to himself when he hears the adorable, involuntary whimpers that escape your rosy lips as your face scrunches into unbidden pleasure from his touch. He fucking loves how sensitive and delicate you are. His gnarled fingers, rough from years of labor, glided smoothly over your soft thighs to softly pinch your messy folds.
Your pink, dainty panties are slightly pulled down to your upper thigh, allowing him to gain more access to your sex as his lengthy fingers trace teasing circles on your sensitive clit— being so careful he doesn’t wake you up or he’d just might have to fuck you back to sleep and he wouldn’t want to ruin his poor girl’s sleeping schedule. His breath heavy with anticipation fogged the air as he leaned closer, his piercing eyes fixated on the moistening bud between your legs. So pretty.
Grimy old man Toji! who shamelessly stares at your round ass any graceful chance he gets— As soon as you get up to go somewhere or grab anything, his eyes quickly leaves the television and zero in on the subtle sway of your ass like a damn vulture. watching how the chubby flesh bounces as you walk away. His wet tongue immediately dragging over his lips and licking his faded scar, hungrily.
His perverted cock instantly stifled at the alluring sight as he imagines his rough hands forcefully gripping your hips still and rubbing his aching dick between your supple cheeks and watches as it disappears between them.
Grimy old man Toji! who has a interesting habit of stuffing his face into your sloppy pussy while you’re lying on your stomach, engrossed in a book. His face is buried between your butt, his nose digging between your creamy folds as he desperately stiffs your drooling cunt like some gross pervert. Both of his hands are caressing the curves of your ass— spreading it apart even more so he can smell better.
When he’s done with your pussy, he quickly shifts his focus to your small puckering hole. Toji’s a fair man so it would be both disrespectful and unfortunate to leave any of his girl’s pretty holes neglected. Especially with how preciously the little hole was winking up at him while he was teasing your pussy— clearly longing for some attention as well.
When his grizzled fingers found their way to your tight, untouched entrance, he couldn't help but cooed at the way the hole clenched at his touch. With taunting slowness, he circled the rim, teasing it with the pad of his thumb, making it flutter and yearn for more. A loud husky laugh escapes his lips when he spots how much your cunt is gushing out more juices from his lewd action. "You're a dirty slut baby, did me playing with your little ass get you this wet?" he chuckles, licking his lips. “Yer so filthy for enjoying this”.
Grimy old man Toji! with his strong, sturdied hands and teasing smirk has a “peculiar” way of showing affection— he loves lifting you onto his lap, making sure to place you down directly on his hard, veiny erection so your warm pussy is nestled right on top of the clothed bulge. His angry tip nudges between your slicked folds, parting them and making you feel as if you were sitting on a hard bump.
His calloused hands are firmly gripping your waist, holding you down so you don’t try to get off of him. Soon enough it'll get way too hard to ignore it when he starts grinding your clothed core on the huge, tented bulge for friction.
Grimy old man Toji! who convinces you to wear a jeweled plug while the two of you were invited to his clan’s meeting. He’s sitting in the chair next to you with a sprawling manspread to cover up the traces of his aroused cock, his hand shamelessly buried under your kimono. Long, skilled fingers swiftly toyed with the pink-heart indent of the plug that’s warmly nestled in your asshole. He loves tugging on it harshly when you're least expecting, your soft, adorable mewls only fueling him and sending more blood rushing to his length.
He wiggles the plug inside of you, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he watches your feeble attempts to hide your sinful expressions. The coolness of the metal grazes against the tight walls of your core with each deliberate motion he makes. Who knows maybe he’ll make some fuck ass excuse to go to the bathroom and replace the plug with his fat cock, filling up the cute little gape.
Grimy old man Toji! who's soo obsessed with making your frothy cunny squirt all over his cock while he’s mindlessly drilling your stupid brains out in full Nelson — yes, of course he knew he always does an amazing job at pounding you into a mindless little slut everytime he dicks you down but having you make a filthy mess with your pussy straying out liquid like a water fountain all over his balls and thighs— soaking his whole mattress was the sweet cherry on top.
He lets out a deep, sultry snicker when he hears how disgustingly sopping your little pussy is for him as he’s cramming his entire length into the tight space— his sharp mushroom tip repeatedly bopping against your musty g-spot with every fast thrust of his hips into of you. Every prominent vein on his rigid length glides along your inner walls, eliciting a sensation so intense that your entire body quivers and your toes curl inside of your patterned socks.
His fingers are deeply ensnared in the soft flesh of your thighs, his grip possessive as he restrained them against the rhythmic movements of your bouncing breasts while he thrust into you with the unrelenting force of a madman from underneath. His larger frame effortlessly carried your weight, making your mind hazy from Toji‘s unbelievably powerful strength. The furrow of your brow and the tears welling in your eyes were like a literal testament to the overwhelming sensation of how hard and mercilessly he was invading your tender pussy. He truly has no pity.
But no matter what, your pussy couldn’t stop leaking all over the poor man’s cock. A rich, creamy mess coated every inch of his pulsating shaft as his muscular thighs trembled. The loud, nasty squelching echoed loudly, making your face red— knowing exactly what was to come.
“Come on girl, squirt on my fucking cock. I know you can do it” he urged with a loud groan at the tight squeeze of your compressed walls around him from his orders. He knows exactly how much you enjoy it when he tells you what to do and luckily for you, he sooo happens to be bossy as well. “Make a mess for Daddy, come onn you can do it baby”.
He plants a gentle kiss on your shoulder blade before anchoring his heels stiffly against the mattress. With a precise movement, he lifted you slightly, adjusting the angle to hit your sweet spot even better. Your back arches against his abs instinctively, pressing your chest forward. “S’close daddy, m’so close!” You cried out, your pulsating hole fluttering around his shaft uncontrollably, desperate to drain his heavy-filled balls.
"That’s it, you’re so fucking wet f’me. Leaking like a nasty fucking slut” he growled in a tone filled with desire, causing his voice to sound hoarse. “Let it go, need ya to squirt like a fucking fountain all over me, ya hear me?”
His cock was throbbing like crazy, veins bulging, the head swollen with blood. Your moans turn into desperate pleas as you clawed at his beefy forearm.
His thrusts are so deep and unforgiving. You can feel the tip pounding against your cervix as he ravages your poor little cunt like a feral beast. Toji never holds back when he fucks you— the thing is he fucking can’t. Not when your pussy is this warm and heavenly, it makes him lose his mind and control the literal second his swollen tip breaches into your slicked entrance.
Your breathing quickly turns into puffs of air, tongue lolling out from your gaping mouth. “Oh fuckkk—“.
You were seeing white at this point. The pressure quickly tightened in your stomach, feeling a million more times intense than it normally felt. Your body jolts on top of his from the foreign sensation, so overwhelmed that you didn’t notice the muscular hand that snaked its way to your clit, frantically rubbing the pulsating bud as your whole body tenses, and your vision blurs white. You cry into the late night as the wash of pleasure crashes throughout your being; it has a rush you’ve never felt before but it leaves you utterly gratified. 
“D-daddy m’gonna– Ohh!” you whine and babble, your clouded mind makes it so hard to form any complete and coherent sentences anymore from the intense pleasure.
“Fuckfuckfuck that’s it, thatsss it”. He grunted, biting his bottom lip enough to make it bleed as his cock twitches at the sight of you squirting in front of him, the translucent liquid spurting all over the place and coating his thick shaft and body as your pussy fluttered around him over and over.
“Atta girl, Atttaa girl. God, this pussy is so fucking slutty, was made just f'me, wasn't she baby?" he purrs into your ear, praising you and attempting to calm you down while he helps you ride out your high. His relentless hips never stop rutting inside of you, trying to savor the mess as much as possible. It was so overstimulating, your whole head goes blurry from everything. His long fingers still abusing your clit, making your whole body shake on top of his.
“Toji— fuck! s’much stopstop fuck!” You cried out, your sharp nails violently sinking into his beefy forearm of the fingers that are assaulting your sensitive clit— definitely leaving more nasty scars.
“Shh shh baby, don’t be a greedy girl. Daddy has to cum too”.
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rosegolden13 · 1 month ago
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Princess Treatment w/ John Price
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His workaholic habits do not stop after he leaves base to come home to you...
We already know he's opening up every damn door for you. He has the magical skill of knowing when doors need a push or a pull so he never fails to laugh when you pull a push door. "Tha's why you shoulda left it to me, love. Stubborn thing, you are." He'll reach over your head to push the door open for you, plopping a kiss to your hair while he does.
His masculinity does not get in the way of holding your purse for you whenever you're out together, his big bear hands wrapped around the handle of your little black purse.
He refuses to let you carry your own luggage, doesn't care if it takes him multiple trips to get both of your bags into the hotel or rental house. He'll get all exasperated if you insist on helping. "You had a long drive. Lemme handle it, pet." (even though he's the one that drove...)
There's nothing he loves more than ordering for you at a restaurant. His voice is filled with an unreasonable amount of pride when he says "And for the missus..." before telling the waiter your order.
Speaking of food, if you ever eat anything that needs cutting or even doctoring up, expect him to jump in. "Now, now, doll, you know tha's my job." He'll tsk and gently take the knife from you to cut your steak into bitesize pieces or to butter your roll. Yes, he will go as far as to bring the fork up to your lips and feed you if you don't put up a fuss.
He will absolutely pay for your manicure and then coo when you offer him your hand to show off your new nails. "Real pretty, love... Don't go chippin' 'em now. Come sit."
Price always sets up a nice place for you on the couch or bed, blanket at the ready and pillows right where you like them. "Come on now, Mrs. Price." He'll pat the spot next to him like one would for a dog. Of course, he likes it best when he can be your pillow and personal heater (that man is always warm, always) but sometimes he's got to find a way to coax his little love into his arms and away from chores.
Naturally, he will swat your hands away when you bend down to tug on your heels or tie your sneakers. He'll crouch down to place your foot on his bent knee, patting your calf firmly and leaning in to press a kiss to your ankle once he's done.
If you nick yourself while shaving, he'll level you with a disapproving stare and then insist that he do it for you next time. After all, he has plenty of experience with keeping his facial hair so tidy. "Can't have my woman hurtin' herself, now can I?" You bet your bottom dollar he's using his fancy razors and shaving creams on you, extra delicate to make sure he doesn't mar your skin.
He's terrified to smoke around you after you coughed one (1) time and now he only will take his cigars out on the back porch or in his office with the window open. If you come in, he'll snuff it out asap and usher you out of the room, shushing your protests.
I'll probably eventually add a part two cuz soft Price is everything to me hehe... Can you tell my standards are ridiculously high?? Also, does anyone have an accent writing guide for TF-141?? I am painfully American.
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