#six smutty sentence fics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nickfowlerrr · 2 years

Note

This picture has ruined me. Now I need a fic with Bucky as your professor banging you in the library during regular hours.

clear your mind

pairing: professor!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

words: 7.5k

warnings: 18+ ONLY. smut. public sex. cockwarming. student/teacher relations. possible age gap depending on how you read it (reader is at least 25 or older but it’s not really specified and bucky is late 30s or older but again, not specified. imagine whatever you like.) i added an alternate kind of darkish ending that is separated with a divider near the end (duh) but of course you can choose to not read it and stick to the original cute ending lol. if i’m missing anything you feel needs to be added, please let me know.

notes: disclaimer: i never technically went to college so i don’t really know what i’m writing about lmao but when i say this was instant inspo, i mean instant. i’ve been in such a funk since i lost chapter four of keeping secrets, but this really ignited something in me so i just went for it. it was originally gonna be a little smutty drabble but then i started writing and it just became a whole one shot - not that i’m complaining lol. this was so fun to write, thank you @sammyisfat for sending it in! 🖤 i hope you all enjoy it! as always, feedback and comments are welcome and appreciated. and thank you in advance for reading and reblogging!

You were sitting hunched over, eyes scanning the same sentence repeatedly, trying to force yourself to focus. You were reading the words but you weren’t really putting them together. You were too bored to make them make sense. Your brain was far off and you were sure you were about to burn out completely at this point.

Why you thought going back to school after so long was a good idea was beyond you. Was the degree really worth it? You’d gotten this far without one, hadn’t you?

As you were contemplating your life choices, and working on convincing yourself to just screw it and drop out, you’d failed to notice the presence of two of your professors passing by.

You had been alone at the far back of the library, closed in by the sturdy cases of books around you, for so long you’d nearly forgotten you were actually there. You had needed solitude, lest the chatter of other students in study groups or working on projects distract you further than your mind already did on its own. Your back was to the open aisle so as not to get distracted by anyone passing by, either. The zone you were occupying was normally a hot spot, but on a Wednesday afternoon, not so much. And for that you were grateful.

The knock on the bookcase next to you accompanied by your name being called, almost in question, startled you as you quickly corrected your posture and looked toward the noise, adjusting the glasses you were wearing as you did. You were greeted with two pairs of blue eyes looking back at you. Standing next to the bookcase, waiting for your response were two of the most lusted after professors on campus. And that wasn’t just you thinking so. The way students fawned over both Mr. Barber and Barnes was near juvenile. They were like kids gossiping about their crushes in elementary school. It was always funny to you seeing the line of people waiting to speak with Andy at the end of class every Wednesday and Friday, whether they had a genuine question to ask or not. You couldn’t say you didn’t get it, though. He had great hair, a soft smile, kind eyes.. He was gorgeous. It was clear why so many people had a thing for him. But you always found yourself a little more than preoccupied with thoughts of Mr. Barnes. Though they were both at least six foot tall and unfairly attractive, easy enough to spread your attention between both of them, as most of their students did, there was just something about James that had you in a hold since the first day you met him.

It was your first day on campus and you’d accidentally bumped into him with your green tea as you were leaving the small corner cafe after your first morning class. You apologized profusely, but he’d claimed it was his fault, that he wasn’t watching where he was going. He insisted on buying you a new drink as he removed his tea damp jacket. You didn’t fight him on it, walking back into the cafe as he held the door for you. You introduced yourselves as you waited for the drinks to be made and spoke a bit. It wasn’t a super long interaction, both of you having places you had to be, but you would have sworn there was something there. And the glimmer in his eye as he smiled and told you he’d see you around convinced you it wasn’t one sided. You were instantly smitten, hopeful you would see him again, that maybe it could lead to getting to know him better, lead to something more.

That was until you walked into your afternoon class the next day to find him standing at a podium, setting up his orientation slides. You had been hoping all day to run into him, but this was certainly not how you’d been imagining the circumstances. Of course he was your professor. You breathed a humorless laugh to yourself as you found a seat. You got your laptop out and looked back up at the same time he looked up from his, making direct eye contact with him. You saw the instant he recognized you and gave him a tight lipped smile that he returned before you diverted your gaze back down. His look of disappointment matched your own, but at the very least, it made you feel wanted.. The “professor x student” trope was never really your cup of tea, but as the weeks went by, the stolen glances and secret longing stares you exchanged were starting to change your mind. After one particular heated night of self pleasure, absentmindedly picturing him while you were reveling in your own touch, imagining it was his, you knew you were really gone for him. And heaven help you, the idea of it really happening was growing hotter and hotter the more you told yourself you couldn’t. Imagining showing up to his office hours one evening and just letting him have you any way he liked. Letting him take you apart on his desk, or sucking him off under his desk while he works. God, you’d daydreamed so many scenarios.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to act on any of it. You didn’t know how to. More importantly, you knew you shouldn’t. It wasn’t like you were some barely legal star eyed student he’d be taking advantage of, but still, you were his student. You weren’t sure how that dynamic might play out or the optics of it for either of you. Instead you willed yourself to stay focused on the work, to keep your thoughts set on passing the course and that was all.

Even when you would find yourself needing actual help from him or needing to ask him about an assignment, you would always talk yourself out of it. You didn’t want to let yourself be alone with him, you couldn’t be trusted. You were worried you’d make a fool of yourself the second you got the chance. So instead, you’d get help from a classmate if you could or you’d end up just winging it. It had been working that far.

The real problem started just last week. This most recent section was challenging to say the least. You had tried the study group offered on Monday nights, but you got absolutely nothing done.

Your last essay assignment had been returned to you on Friday with a note on it, asking you to come by his office hours before the next class. You had been putting it off all week, but knew you’d have to go by Thursday. You just weren’t expecting to see him around any earlier than that.

“Professors,” you greeted, slightly taken aback.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Mr. Barber apologized. “Thought you might’ve heard us walking up.”

“I was uh, lost in the text, I guess,” you replied, giving them an awkward smile.

“Well, I’m glad someone’s reading it,” he laughed.

“Do you mind if we join you?” he continued, motioning to the otherwise empty table you were sitting at the end of. It was big enough to seat at least 8 people easily and it’d, of course, be rude of you to try and keep it for yourself. But what would they need to be in the library for anyway? The question must have been written on your face as Mr. Barnes answered it for you.

“The heat isn’t working in our offices. We’re just grading some work.”

“Right, yeah, of course. Go for it.”

“Thank you,” Andy smiled.

They took seats at the other end of the table, surely trying to avoid distracting you. You appreciated the gesture, but it was futile. As they worked on grading papers, they were talking and laughing every so often and even if they hadn’t been, their presence alone was not at all aiding you in your attempt to focus on schoolwork.

You’d given up trying to finish the passage you’d been reading and instead pretended to start making notes in your laptop. In all actuality, you were really just googling alternative career paths and the question: “Do you really need a college degree to be successful?”.

Thirty minutes later, Andy’s phone went off and he began to gather his things, telling Mr. Barnes, who he called ‘Bucky’, that he had a lecture in 45 minutes but he’d see him later.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Andy pointed at you as he passed by.

“Bright and early,” you affirmed with a nod and a small smile.

“Have a good night,” he smiled back.

“You too,” you returned.

The second he was gone, you became fully aware that you were now alone with Professor Barnes, the situation you’d been trying to avoid for the past almost three months. Despite your efforts, your entire focus was being pulled to the man just down the table from you. He was still grading, in the middle of someone’s essay as you glanced over to him. You admired the quirk of his brow as he read and how his tongue jutted out to lick his lip as his eyes scanned the words on the page. You pulled your gaze away from him and back to your laptop, deciding to close it and put it away, begrudgingly returning to your textbook. Just one more hour. You had promised yourself 2 hours of studying today minimum, you were halfway there. You could do it.

Not ten minutes later you heard the flipping of paper and glanced over to see he’d just finished the paper he was on, writing the grade on top of the first page. You looked back to your text just as he slid the paper down the table to you. You furrowed your brows as you watched it slide into your book. You saw the “C-” he had given it circled in red ink and immediately recognized the title. Your lips parted and you clicked your tongue as you looked back up to meet his eye.

“Anyone else that would’ve been a D,” he told you, sounding slightly disappointed. “Your work is normally a lot better than what you’ve been turning in lately. That’s why I asked you to come by my office hours.”

“Yeah, I- uh. I don’t know, I’ve just been having a hard time with this section,” you explained. “And I wasn’t ignoring your note, I was planning to see you on Thursday.”

“Well, we’re both here now, right?” he said and you nodded.

“Good a time as any,” you shrugged.

He got up and moved his stuff down the table to take the seat next to you. You closed your textbook and straightened up in your chair. Nerves eating at you as he sat and turned to angle himself towards you.

“My main concern isn’t really about you understanding the materials, all the concepts are there in your work, it's just..lackluster. Sloppily written, a bit jumbled here and there. Nothing like what you had been turning in at the start of the semester,” he said. “Are you sure it’s the section you’re having a hard time with?”

You looked at him for a moment, not really knowing what to say.

“What else would I be having a hard time with?” you questioned quietly.

It was his turn to look at you for a moment as he thought about how to word his response. He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it before he finally spoke.

“You’ve seemed more and more distracted during class lately. I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said sincerely, his blue eyes gleaming into yours. He was already close, but you suddenly found yourself mindlessly leaning closer to him. You took a breath as you sat back, licking your lips ever so lightly without realizing as you looked away.

“I’m okay,” you told him. “Sorry I’ve seemed distracted. Well, uhm, been distracted. I don’t know why I’ve been having such a hard time focusing on this,” you lied, “but I appreciate your concern. I’ll work on being more present. And putting more effort into my writing.”

He smiled softly and nodded before he turned back in his seat, returning to his pile of papers.

You bit your lip as you sat there. Of course you knew why you were so distracted, but you couldn’t just tell him it was because of him.

“You know there’s a study group you can sign up for,” he said as he was still looking down, reading the new paper in front of him, red pen in hand.

“Yeah, I know. I just, uh, work better in smaller groups,”

“Alone isn’t exactly a group,” he lightly smirked with a slight tilt of his head.

“I’ve never really had the best focus when it comes to studying, anything. I get off topic and then I get everyone else off topic and then we end up having spent the entire session debating something trivial, like who the best Batman is,” you said.

“Christian Bale,” he responded.

“Obviously,” you agreed with a smile. “But uhm, yeah. Less distractions the better, so I try to avoid big groups. Though I’ll admit, just trying to stay focused on my own is a feat in and of itself,” you laughed lightly.

“Sounds like you just need someone other than yourself to hold you accountable. Have you thought about one on ones? I offer tutoring sessions that no one seems to want to take me up on,” he laughed. “I have three one hour sessions all still open for tonight, actually.. Not that you need tutoring, but you could use the time to work on your assignments without distractions - and I'd be there, of course, if you need any help.”

You told yourself to say no. You really did..

“Well it couldn’t hurt, right?” you breathed, a small smile on your lips. Just then the clock chimed three, drawing both of your attention.

“I have a class in twenty, I have to get going. But I’ll be in my office from five to eight, you can come whenever. Like I said, no one else has signed up, so whenever you can make it. Hopefully the heat should be working by then.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Please, James is more than fine,” he told you. “I’ll see you later.”

When he left, you packed up your things - letting yourself off the hook for your two hour promise. You were gonna be studying later now, anyway so it wasn’t like you just checking out for the day. Your apartment wasn’t too far from campus, so you drove home and decided you’d head back around 6.

You made yourself a late lunch/early dinner and then got your things together for when you’d leave. You figured you had time for a quick nap, so you laid down on the couch with the tv still playing in the background. After about 45 minutes, you woke up feeling more flustered than you had felt all week. You were starting to regret your quick agreement to his one on one offer, but you couldn’t just not show up now. You were getting yourself worked up over nothing, you were sure. Really what could you do that would be so bad? It’s not like you were planning on seducing the man. You’d probably just ask him to review the essay you’d been working on that would be turned in at the next class and ask for clarification on the requirements for the part of your midterm paper you’d been confused about for the past two weeks. You probably wouldn’t even stay the whole hour.

Checking the time, you decided to head back to campus. You’d get to his office a little after 5 and you’d be home by 6:30 at the latest. It’d be fine.

As you walked up to the sturdy oak door that led to his office, two cups of coffee in hand, your nerves started anew. You took a second before you knocked lightly. A few moments later, the door was pulled open as he greeted you, ushering you in.

“I got you a coffee,” you offered with a smile.

“That’s very much needed, thank you,” he smiled back, taking the drink you’d extended to him. “Please, have a seat.”

You took the only chair across from his desk as he sat.

“So, I was wondering if you’d be able to go over my essay for this week. See if it’s missing anything, or if it needs to be rewritten entirely,” you laughed nervously.

“Yeah, of course,”

“Great,” you breathed, “I just emailed you a copy.”

He pulled it open on his screen and you watched for a moment as he began reading before you pulled out your laptop to work more on your midterm. You couldn’t focus though. Not with him right across from you. The little noises he’d make as he read caught your attention repeatedly and when you’d glance up, you’d find yourself admiring the shape of his face, the quirk of his lips, the squinting of his eyes.

“The whole point of this is so that you have no distractions,” he said as he continued reading before turning to look at you. “Something distracting you?” he asked, his eyes finding your own with something akin to a playful glimmer shining in them.

You opened your mouth to speak but you just shook your head instead, taking a steadying breath.

“No,” you answered after a second. He looked at you hard.

“You sure about that?” he asked again.

“No,” you repeated softly.

“Well since you can’t seem to focus on what you’re working on, why don’t you come over here and we’ll go over this together.”

You stared at him, gawking before your body finally moved. You stood up and he did the same, pulling his chair back for you to sit in as you rounded the desk. He pushed you back in and then leaned down behind you so he was at the same height you were, looking at the screen.

You were stiff and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. He was so close. And he smelled so good. And he was so pretty. God, you didn’t know what to do. You really couldn’t focus, even as he read your words aloud and went over a line you’d blubbed.

“Are you listening to me?” he asked, standing to his full height as he spun the chair around, looking down at you. Your eyes immediately landed on his crotch before you quickly looked away, trying to not look so flustered.

“Sorry,” you eked out.

“It’s obvious you have something on your mind. You’re clearly distracted,” he said, finding your eye. “I think you just need to clear your head to find your focus.”

“Right, well, I don’t really know how to do that,” you breathed.

“Why don’t you let me try to help,” he returned softly as he leaned down and grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to meet his as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours.

You were definitely not expecting this to happen, but you weren’t upset in the least. His lips were soft and he tasted like coffee. Your hand found his hair as you pulled him closer to you, the gentle kiss turning into something hungrier the longer it went on. He pulled away suddenly and pulled you out of his chair before taking his seat and pulling you down onto his lap just as quickly, his lips returning to yours the instant he had you on him. Your arm wound itself around his neck as your other cupped his jaw, keeping his face close to you as he held you close to him.

Slowly, his hand traveled under your sweater and along your waist, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. He easily slipped his tongue into your mouth, eliciting a moan from you as he did. You felt his erection growing as you sat on his lap, smiling into the kiss as you teasingly rubbed against him, earning a groan from him in response. He broke away from you for a moment as you both caught your breath, “Tell me if you want to stop,” was all he said before he maneuvered you with ease. He sat you on the edge of his desk while he took your boots off before he pulled your leggings down your thick thighs, his touch sending chills through you as he did.

He made quick work of his trousers, pulling them down before he took himself out of his briefs. He sat back down on his chair as he looked at you with lust filled eyes. “Stand up,” he told you. When you were standing before him, he pulled you close by your wide set hips before his fingers hooked the band of your thong, dragging it down until they were past your thighs and dropped to your ankles. “Step out of them, sweetheart.”

You did as he said before he pulled you closer and got you onto the chair, positioning you so you straddled his lap, barely hovering above his hard cock. You were breathing heavily as your hands grasped his shoulders and his hands held your fleshy hips. He looked up at you like he was waiting for your permission and so you nodded softly down at him. He gripped himself with one hand and moved the tip of his cock along your wet slit, you gasped in unison at the feeling. He took his time and just played with you a bit until you were moaning, whining above him. Your eyes squeezed shut as he circled your clit before he moved to finally align his cock up to your slick entrance. He pushed his tip just inside of you and groaned at the sensation, his hands returning to your hips as he gripped you tightly, holding you there despite you wanting desperately to take more of him.

“James,” you whined. He shook his head.

“Call me Bucky,” he instructed headily.

“Bucky,” you whined further, trying to lower yourself further onto his cock.

“I know, I know, sweetheart,” he laughed. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm,” you moaned as he took your lips in his again.

“You want more? Want more of my dick inside you?”

“Yes, yes, Bucky, please,” you mewled.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna give it to you,” he said, kissing you along your neck, “but then you’re gonna focus on your work, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed without really hearing him. You just needed more, you needed all of him.

He pulled you down further onto his cock torturously slowly as you gasped and mewled until he was seated fully inside of you.

“Fuck,” he grunted, eyes shutting in pleasure at the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him, at the warmth of your cunt around him.

You tried to move, but were stopped again by his hands holding you in place. He tutted as he looked at you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart? We just agreed you’re gonna focus on your work now,”

“Huh? Right, right now?” you huffed.

“Right now,” he told you firmly.

You pouted as you leaned against his chest, your face pressing into his neck, even just that movement sparking pleasure through you.

“No pouting,” he laughed against your temple. You turned your face up to him, pout still in place before you leaned up further to kiss him again. Slow and heated, he got lost in your kiss. He almost didn’t stop you when you started rocking your hips against him. Almost.

You whined again as he held you still. His strength was impressive, you had to admit.

“Stop. Moving,” he growled, sending a new wave of arousal through you. “You’re gonna sit right here on my cock while we go over your essay and if you do a good job listening to me and stay focused, I’ll give you what you really want after. Understand?”

“Yes, professor,” you said quietly.

“Good,” he smiled, caressing your cheek as he looked down at you.

It was thirty five minutes of pure torture. He read a loud your entire essay and had you make corrections as he went, the entire time you could feel his thick cock throbbing inside your dripping cunt, just begging for any kind of movement. Near the end of your essay corrections, his hand dropped from your hip until he found your clit, slowly beginning to rub it in tight circles. You mewled pathetically and your walls tightened around his dick still deep inside of you while his lips attacked your neck with gentle kisses and love bites.

“You did so well, sweetheart,” he praised. “You took this from a C to an A with just thirty minutes of actual focus. All you had to do was face your distractions head on, find the right motivation,” he smirked against your skin.

“So we’re done with the editing then, right?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he hummed against you.

“Great,” you breathed as he brought you closer with his every touch.

“Fuck, you’re squezzing me so tight,” he groaned.

“I’m gonna come,” you mewled, breathing heavier still as his left hand tightened on your hip and his fingers worked your bud faster, sending you head first into your orgasm, his name falling off your tongue as you cursed and panted through your high, collapsing onto his chest.

“Oh my god,” he whined with a small gasp, his eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, can I come inside you?” he asked. You nodded your answer as you were still trying to catch your breath. He grabbed your face and crashed his lips into yours, hot and needy, while you felt him tense suddenly as his cock pulsed inside you and he moaned deeply into your mouth as he let himself go, you could feel the warmth of his release against your walls.

The evidence of your orgasm was all over his lap, coating his dick as he pulled you off of him.

“Holy fuck,” he panted. You didn’t think it was possible, but you felt yourself heat up even more than you already had been. “Hand me a tissue,” he said pointing to the box he had on the corner of his desk.

He cleaned himself up quickly before he pulled his briefs and trousers back up. He had you again on the edge of his desk as he bent down to clean you up, too, admiring the way his cum was leaking out of you before he grabbed your leggings from the floor, handing them to you. He pocketed your thong before he stood back up to his full height, towering over you.

“That was nice,” he laughed softly as he leaned down closer to you, his right hand framing your face, tilting it up to meet his eye, his thumb gently stroking the soft skin of your cheek before he leaned in to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

You smiled in response. “Yeah, it was,” you agreed.

“I hope you don’t find this inappropriate, but I’ve wanted you since the day we met.”

“The feeling is more than mutual,” you assured him. “But uhm. Is this..,” you gestured between the two of you, “allowed?” you questioned as you hopped off his desk to pull your leggings on.

“Well, it’s certainly not encouraged, but there’s nothing in my contract that explicitly prohibits it. I made sure a few months ago,” he said, eyeing you with a shy smile as if he hadn’t just come inside you after making you cockwarm him for nearly 45 minutes. It made you laugh. “I would prefer to keep this between us for as long as we can, though,” he hedged.

“Yeah, I completely agree. Don’t need these kids gossiping about me, too.”

“They do love to talk, don’t they?” he grimaced, causing you to smile at him.

“I’m sure we can keep this under wraps,” you said as you pulled your boots back on. “And I’d like to sign up for next week's one on one sessions, too, if you're available.”

“I’ll be sure to block it out for you,” he grinned.

“Might as well make it a standing weekly appointment,” you suggested as you walked back over to him from where he was perched on his desk.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he responded as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer while you stared up at him, your arms wrapping around him in return. “Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Dinner?” you questioned, pulling back slightly. “That doesn’t sound very underwraps,” you teased.

“A private dinner. At a private residence. My residence,” he clarified with a smirk.

“I’m free,” you nodded as you backed away and went to the other side of the desk as he turned around to watch you.

“Great, I’ll message you the address.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it,” you said as you grabbed your bag and slipped your laptop back inside of it. “I should get going, but, thank you. For everything,” you simpered. “I really appreciate your help.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. My door’s always open. I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Tomorrow it is,” you nodded in agreement as you walked to the door. But before you could open it, Bucky was behind you, turning you around to face him. His lips met yours in a soft, unrushed kiss before he pulled away slowly, opening the door for you.

“Have a good night,” you breathed.

“You, too,” he smiled.

Three weeks later you had a routine set in place. Nothing changed much in class, except you found yourself paying more close attention to the material now that you weren’t so hopelessly longing for your professor. Wednesday’s were your one on one sessions in Bucky’s office and Friday nights had been spent at his place. This last week, you’d even stayed the three day weekend with him. You knew you weren’t crazy when you had thought there was something real between the two of you when you had first met, but you didn’t expect to have clicked so well the way you had. Your chemistry was unbelievable and you got on so well together. Plus the sex was incredible.

Fucking in his office was so cliche, but that didn’t make it any less hot. In fact, it was really the only place you called him “Professor” these days. The title just made things that much sexier. It was Wednesday afternoon and you’d just gotten out of your last class for the day. You were going to head to Bucky’s office in a few hours, planning to go to your apartment to freshen up before picking up some food for you both on your way back.

You’d just finished changing into more…accessible clothes when your phone rang. It was a text from Bucky letting you know that the heat in his office wasn’t working again, so you’d have to meet in the library instead as they’d be working on the unit in his room. You frowned slightly, accepting that you’d changed for nothing, but at least the skirt was still comfortable. You texted back asking if you should still bring food and he promised he’d take you somewhere after instead. Apparently only two of his students in his 3:20 class showed up, so he dismissed them for the day. He was already on his way to the library, so you grabbed your things and headed back to campus.

You walked around the library looking for him with no luck before you decided to walk up to the second level, which was technically closed off for some construction work, in order to get a better view. You spotted him easily in the far back section of the lower level as you stood at the railing of the second floor. He was sipping on a cup of coffee and you smiled as you spied a cup of tea waiting for you next to his satchel on the table while he read over some work.

You walked back down to the first floor and made your way to him.

“Professor,” you greeted as you knocked on the bookcase blocking the table he was at from an easy view. He greeted you in return as he looked up from his work, a smile on his face. His eyes caught on the low v-neck of the top you were wearing, your cleavage on perfect display. His tongue jutted out along his lower lip as he admired the view. You cleared your throat as you looked at him with a raised brow.

He looked back up to your eyes, smiling charmingly as if he hadn’t just been caught leering at you so openly.

“I’m here to study, not be perved on,” you accused.

“You know you need to clear your mind to get your focus, first. And you know what helps clear your mind best,” he alluded.

“You know we’re in public, right?” you asked, voice hushed as you walked closer to the table.

“It’s a Wednesday, no one’s gonna come back here,” he said smoothly. “We’re hidden from sight.”

“Not true,” you denied. “I saw you from the second level,” you informed him.

“Was anyone up there?” he asked.

“No..”

“Didn’t think so,” he said smugly.

“There’s not right now. Anyone could come in at any time. It’s the middle of the day.”

“You’re right,” he aquesqued, hands up. “All work, no play today. I got you a tea,” he offered.

“Thank you,” you smiled as you took the seat across from him.

“Wow, why are you sitting so far?”

“Where do you want me to sit?” you laughed.

“Preferably, my lap,” he started, earning a humored scoff from you. “But right here would be good, too,” he said, gesturing to the seat next to him.

You got up and moved spots, getting comfortable before you pulled up your essay on your laptop.

“Still going through midterms?” you asked as you looked over to him making marks on the paper he was reading.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Have you gotten to mine yet?”

“Not yet,” he said absently.

You nodded as you took a sip of your tea. You looked back to your essay and found yourself trailing off. It was pretty much finished, just needed to be read through again for any edits you needed to make. It wasn’t enough to keep your attention. Too easy. You could do it later no problem.

Instead you took out your text for Andy’s class and started reading next week’s assignment. You didn’t have much else to do. Funnily enough, you’d been getting most of your work done earlier than normal so you’d have less to actually do on Wednesdays, instead spending your “study” time focusing on other things…

You weren’t paying attention to anything, lost in perverted thoughts of last week when Bucky had fucked you agaisnt the wall in his office, while twirling your pen as you stared down blankly at the words on the page, not reading them at all. Pulling you from your perversions, suddenly you felt Bucky’s hand smooth its way under your skirt and up your thigh. His hand was so warm and strong as he touched you, sending chills through you as he scooted his chair closer to yours. You didn’t stop him and absentmindedly spread your thighs for him as he inched his way closer and closer to your inner thighs before his fingers made their way between them, gently rubbing at your warm, barely clothed pussy.

You came back to earth as you remembered where you were and reached your hand under the table to hold his, stopping his movements.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing, professor?” you breathed.

“Helping,” he responded. “What did I say about distractions, sweetheart?”

“Who says I’m distracted,” you whispered as you heard chatter coming from the other side of the bookcase before it passed as some students made their way to the front desk from the back office you weren’t too far off from.

“You have that far off look in your eyes,” he spoke quietly, “and I saw you squeezing your thighs together not ten seconds ago.” You exhaled a breath so softly you barely even heard yourself.

“Maybe we can end this session early and call it a day?” you asked, wanting to get out of the library and meet him back at your place, or hell, meet him at his car and let him take you apart in the faculty parking lot.

“No, I don’t think so. We both have some work left to do.”

“Bucky,” you whispered.

“No calling me Bucky outside my office while we’re on campus,” he reminded you. “You know better.”

You bit your lip before whispering sorry.

“You just need to face your distractions so you can get past them,” he said. “Let me help.”

You let go of his hand beneath the table and spread your thighs a little wider.

You almost stopped breathing completely when he slipped his fingers past your panties and gently pushed inside of you as one of the librarians passed by the aisle over. She peered behind the bookcase that was shielding you from the side to see who was at the tables and greeted both of you quietly before she returned to the aisle and reshelved some books. Bucky’s fingers didn’t stop for even a second as he returned her greeting and went back to grading.

The second you knew she was gone you panted a breath. “James,” you chastised as you sat in your seat still, making no attempt to actually stop him.

“More?” he questioned without looking up from his work, only speeding up his fingering, curling them inside of you. You bit down harshly on your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud, your thighs tensing with the impending wave of pleasure you were teetering on before he slipped his fingers out of you, a school boy smirk playing on his lips.

You exhlaed heavily and shakily before looking over to him, shocked. He finally looked back at you, still smirking.

“I wanna try something. If you want me to stop, tell me,” he said as he removed his hand from your thigh and stood up abruptly. You could see the outline of his erection through his trousers and found yourself getting more aroused. You didn’t know what he wanted to do, but assumed it'd be something at least a little discret. Along the lines of putting you in his lap again, or even just having you get him off. So when he pulled you up and spun you around, pushing you down against the table, you were surprised to say the least. You heard him unzip his pants as he pulled himself free and then pulled your panties down your thighs. You couldn’t even think as he prodded you with his cock, and gasped loudly when he finally pushed into you. His hand was on your mouth in an instant as he leaned over your back, his mouth next to your ear as he spoke. “Gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he panted. “You don’t want anyone to see us back here, do you?”

Your gurgled moan was his response as he began fucking into you, keeping your chest firmly againt the sturdy table, one hand on your mouth and one holding your wrists behind your back. You were panting as quietly as you could as he slid in and out of you, getting deeper with each thrust. He took his hand away from your mouth after a moment and gripped your hip to keep you a little more steady, trying to keep your hips from slamming so hard into the wood. The salacious sounds of his pelvis slapping against your ass with his thrusts were only making you more slick as he moved his hand from your wrists to keep your skirt pushed up as he fucked you from behind.

It was taking all of your willpower to keep quiet, your mouth open in silent moans as you tried to keep yourself breathing. His thrusts were getting more powerful the longer he went. Each time you heard people passing by, your cunt gripped his cock even tighter at the thrill of the proximity, and Bucky didn’t miss it.

“Who knew you were so fucking kinky,” he panted into your ear. “You like getting fucked in public, huh? Like the idea of anyone walking by and seeing you get fucked out of your mind? Seeing you getting claimed by me,” he husked.

You mewled as quietly as you could and nodded your head in affirmation. “I like it,” you whispered pathetically.

“I know you do,” he laughed before fucking into you deeper, making sure you felt every inch of his thick cock gliding against your velvety walls, squeezing him tightly.

“Professor, please,” you pleaded quietly.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he grunted as he gripped your hip harder still, pulling your ass flush against him before he began rutting into you desperately. He leaned his weight onto you as he kept you pushed down, flush against the table. His hand left your skirt and found your clit, adding to the growing pressure building in your abdomen as he rubbed you, fucking you and stimulating all the most sensitive spots along your walls. Before you knew you were, you came completely undone, the familiar white hot pleasure induced euphoria spreading through you as you came around him, squeezing him like you never wanted him to leave you empty again. And truth be told, you didn’t. You’d never felt so fulfilled or satisfied in your life.

He could barely move as you came around him, but after a few more thrusts, he shot his load inside of you, cursing under his breath as he came, panting. After a moment, he pulled out gently and slid your panties back up for you, pushing your skirt down before he fixed himself. You were still reeling from the intensity of it all when you stood, a little wobbly, from the table.

Cute planned ending:

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you breathed, turning around to face Bucky. “We really just did that,” you said, still in shock at yourself while Bucky grinned proudly before looking around a bit, just making sure you were still alone. He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you close, leaning down to kiss you deeply, letting you go for a second before kissing you harder again.

“We did. And now,” he said, ushering you back to your seat, urging you to sit down, “you're gonna finish editing your paper while I grade a few more of these midterms, no distractions.”

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered as you looked up at him still standing while you were seated once again. “I’m the one sitting here with come leaking out of me,” you complained.

“Is it that distracting for you, sweetheart?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Yes,” you responded.

“No problem. I can help with that, too,” he smirked as he got down on his knees, crawling under the table to kneel at your feet as your eyes went wide while you watched him. He pulled you to the edge of the chair before he slipped your panties off completely. “That essay better be ready to turn in by the time I get back up, do you understand?” he warned. You could feel his breath against your folds as he got closer.

“Yes, professor,” you mewled pathetically as you spread your thighs even wider for him.

Alternative kind of darkish ending:

You felt eyes on you as you turned around, but it wasn’t Bucky. You looked up to the second floor and could have sworn you saw Andy passing by, worry flooding through you instantly. You weren’t sure, though. Maybe he was really just walking by and hadn’t seen anything. Maybe it was no one at all and you were just imagining things. You almost didn’t even want to say anything about it, just act like you hadn’t seen, or thought you saw, anyone at all.

Until Andy came knocking on the bookcase, from the opposite direction, startling you as you gasped and spun around, hands flying to make sure your skirt was smoothed down completely, unconscious backing toward where Bucky was. Andy looked between you both for a second before he spoke, a knowing, devilish smirk growing on his face as he looked at you in a way you’d never seen him look at anyone before. Lewdly, leering, lustful, even.

“What’s goin’ on down here?”

You looked back at Bucky, hoping to find some kind of reassurance or protection, but he was completely unphased at the presence of his friend.

“You enjoy the show?” he asked, unamused.

“I think I could put on better,” he shrugged, eyes still locked on you, even as Bucky pulled you into his side.

“What do you think, sweetheart? Wanna let him try?”

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beefrobeefcal · 4 days

Text

an Ezra & Cricket One Shot: Brass Knuckled Debauchee Summary: Ezra, after abusing your healing talents, returns to make good on his debt... for a price.

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 4,752

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), weight gain, eating, edging, soft!dom Ezra being an overall ass, teasing, begging, crying, malfunctioning prosthetic limb, the occasional swear

Author's Notes: requested by two (count'em - 2!) lovely babes for the 900 Friendo Celebration - thank you to @xdaddysprincessxx and @morallyinept for bringing Ezra some love.

Huge thank you to @strang3lov3 , @noxturnalpascal & @bitchesuntitled for their beta badass skills and to my ever lovely beta fish, @neverwheremoonchild. None of you will understand the depths of gratitude I hold you all in.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

You’d cared for him when his appendage was newly parted from his person, after a young woman dumped him off at your meagre midwife’s centre.

You hadn’t delivered a baby in at least eight cycles, but you were busy tending to broken bones and crushed limbs from the mine nearby, so the idea of caring for a wound caused by a missing arm wasn’t far from your everyday.

What was far from the standard men in your care was that this one wouldn’t shut up. Truly. You’d never met someone so close to death spew such a narrative. You almost wished to have him out of his misery just to stop his linguistic vomit.

Thank Kevva for sedatives.

You didn’t even want to know his name, worried that if you had his, he’d need yours and there was no way someone this sick and wounded that could carry on like he’s memorized a thesaurus wasn’t capable of performing a hex or a curse on you.

After three blessedly quiet and devoid-of-narration days, the open wound where his arm once hung from was no longer festering and the fever that wracked his body broke. Despite your own desire to keep him silent, you stopped administering such a high dose of the sedative, and you allowed him to regain consciousness.

For the first little while, all you heard was his steady, deep breathing, so you left the room to grab some water and liquified sustenance for him, figuring that when he would finally come to, he’d be hungry.

“To what do… do I owe the pleasure?”, you heard croaked as you walked softly back into the room.

“Oh good…”, you replied flatly. “You’re awake and talking.”

The remainder of his stay that time had revolved around you doing what you could to keep his mouth occupied enough to keep it quiet; you fed him. By the time he’d left, he’d made you aware of his name – Ezra – and bestowed a nickname on you for lack of giving your own. Cricket. He then made the terrible promise to return to see you and left with a wink and a smile.

Your whole body bristled at the thought of having to deal with him again.

*****

The first return visit he made, his confidence and vocabulary were still obnoxiously inflated. Whining of a bruised rib, you resumed your frustrated feeding to keep him down to two to three sentences and responses between mouthfuls.

The second time he returned, he stated that he had been ‘brutalized by a deviant, one who you should not even be told of his true form else your fragile and virtuous mind be stained’. There wasn’t a single mark on him, save for a bite on his only arm that looked to be self-inflicted. He enjoyed himself, smiling between bites of food.

By the third visit – complaining of a sprained toe - you knew that he knew that you knew what you were doing - and vice versa. Despite this, you fed him, and he ate very well. After several days of ‘healing’, he hauled himself up and it was then that you noted his flight suit looking like it was getting tighter around his middle.

Those visits happened in a fairly rapid succession, but a longer period – more than six cycles at least - lapsed before he darkened your doorway and approached your desk once again. Without even looking up, you knew it was him, having heard his cavalier long-form salutations being crooned out at anyone he passed approaching your unit.

“What now?”, you sighed in irritation, dropping your head into your hand, not bothering to look up at him – something you would come to regret to save yourself future embarrassment. You didn’t see him close your door and lock it behind him.

He approached your desk, and his hand came into view along with a mechanical one; the smooth-as-silk tongued devil was now outfitted with a prosthetic arm that looked like it had been stolen from a brass skeleton and had gears added. Your eyes followed the mechanical limb up to the hem of his shortened sleeve, hiding the joint between it and what remained of his actual arm. The new colour of his clothing caught your attention, too, pulling your eyes to his torso. Yes, it was definitely a different colour. He was no longer in the moss greens and soil browns you’d associated with him. Now, he was in a dark blue flight suit with a gold zipper that looked to just be barely holding together.

Your brain paused to take in what was in front of you.

“No more chirps for me, sweet Cricket?”

His raspy, southern drawl sounded sweeter than you’d noticed before as your eyes took in the added weight on his middle. Before looking up to his face, you noted the way the zipper rippled from the strain and the clear indent his belly button made as the fabric pulled taut across his expanse.

His face. As soon as you took it in, you regretted not doing it first. He’s held you in his big brown eyes’ gaze before, but you’d been able to avoid being trapped. But this time you couldn’t help but let them absorb you. His smile widened as he slightly leaned forward, arms putting further weight on your desk.

“You seem at a loss for word, Crick-“

“You’ve been eating well.”, you managed to croak out in a somewhat aloof-sounding voice, nodding towards his middle.

He didn’t shrink back at your comment; instead, it seemed to embolden him. “You started me on a path of decadence that a mere man such as myself isn’t able to easily shake.”

He stood to his full height, eyes never leaving yours. “Is that all you noticed?”, he grinned, lifting his brass appendage, bringing the crude and simple brass hand to his face, smoothing over his moustache.

Your lips parted then closed and parted again before you were able to spit out, “I saw y-… I see you got a new… limb.”

His eyes gleamed at you, seeing his every move had you further in his grasp. You inwardly scowled, chiding yourself on how quickly you were falling under his spell. Narrowing your eyes, you shrugged at him.

“Looks old.”

If it stung him, he didn’t show it; he simply kept that smile on his face and continued to look down at you from across the desk. “I’m not its first owner.”

The pleasantries had only lasted a few more moments before Ezra moved around your desk and hovered over you.

“I’m here to return the favour, Cricket.”

“...Favour?”

“For all the hard work you put into bringing me back to my full health.”, he cooed lowly as his brass hand cooled your cheek with its feather-light touch.

“It’s nothing... I was just doing my j - “

He leaned over you further, cheshire grin pulled menacingly across his face. His voice slipped into a lower pitch and his eyes darted from your eyes to your mouth.

“Doing your job would have been to send me away when I appeared with erroneous and fabricated injuries and illnesses. You, my sweet Cricket, stepped over and above the threshold of your employment and I intend to repay you for your sweetness in full.”

You sucked in a few shallow breaths and nervously swallowed. This was a side of him you hadn't seen, assuming that he was a submissive and pliant brat who’d chosen you to dote on him. But no. There was no favour he intended to pay back. He was just sizing you up and wrangling you into his web, and now he was out loud declaring that you were his prey. His eyes were dark and fixed on you, in contrast with the gentle smile on his face.

“Don’t be nervous, sweet Cricket. You can tend to your own wounds afterwards. Now, let me hear you chirp.”

His brass arm shot out and gripped your wrist tightly and he pulled you from your seat. Dragging you to the maternity room, he tossed you onto the low soft bed.

“Ezra!”, you squeaked as your body hit the push mattress below you.

He dropped to his knees and crawled up, forcing your legs apart, and his belly barely grazed your middle as his face lined up with yours. You let out an involuntary whimper.

“Oh, sweet Cricket. How badly I wanted you on your back, making those sweet vocalizations your namesake promised me.”

His flesh and bone hand gently grazed your face and moved to the back of your head, softly fisting your hair, forcing your head to stay still as he traced his nose along the contours of your face. His eyes remained half lidded and he watched as your own rolled back when he pushed his knee into the crux of your thighs, knowing he had all but your verbal consent.

“This is all you need, sweet Cricket? Someone to light the way?”

All you can muster as his hold on your hair tightened and his knee applied more pressure was a light whine through your parted lips.

You wanted to respond, but the moment you opened your mouth, Ezra’s brass arm made a clunk sound and began to shudder.

“Oh, for Kevva’s sake.”, he muttered, sitting up on his knees as he examined the arm. It made a mechanical sound before it shuddered again, then a higher pitched noise droned as the arm vibrated.

You watched him sitting between your parted legs as the realization of what he had at his disposal dawned on him. Your eyes widened as he turned and looked at you like a starved man with a wild grin.

“Sweet Cricket, I think I could go for a bite to eat.”

*****

Once you’d gotten some finger foods together and brought them back into the room, you found Ezra laid back in a mountain of pillows on the bed. He nodded his head towards you and raised his hand, beckoning you to him.

“Come on, Cricket. Tend to your weary traveller.”

His eyes were glued to you, cascading up and down your form, as you hand fed him. He’d had a few pieces of the savoury pastries when you felt the cool touch of his brass hand slide between your thighs.

“Curious...”, he mused as he chewed. “… that when I make a certain motion with my appendage, it malfunctions in such an amusing manner that I know you will find benefit in, pet.”

Your brows furrow in question and before you can ask how that could benefit you in any way, the arm made that clunk sound again. You felt the vibration between your thighs and your eyes widened.

“Ez – oh fuck!”, you gasped as he pushed his knuckle up against your mound and held it there firmly.

Your mouth was open, allowing shallow panting breaths to puff out and your eyes were closed with your brows pinched as the shuddering vibrations pulsed against you. You’d never felt anything like this before in your life and you thanked Kevva.

The low amber tones of his voice cut through to you and pulled you out of your silent prayer. “Now, sweet Cricket. We are both here to derive enjoyment from one another given we both now have the intel on each other’s vices. You can’t go holding out on me to seek your fruition – that is not fair.”

He pulled his hand from contacting your core, and your eyes snapped to his, a pleading whimper bubbling out from your pouting lips.

“Uh-uh, Cricket. We will play fair.”, he growled in warning. His smile dropped as his features darkened, and he nodded towards your suspended hand holding a small meat-filled pastry. “Don’t you dare hold out on me.”

Shakily, you brought the morsel to his mouth and as he took it in and let his tongue touch your finger, his hand once again pressed against your core.

*****

Ezra had continued to eat and finished over half of platter. But every time you started to get close to your peak, he would pull his hand away, leaving you a shaking mess.

“P-please… Ezra, please!”, you begged mere seconds away from ecstasy.

“I am not finished, sweet Cricket.”, he said with a mouthful. “You will be sated when I have found my fill, and we are not yet there.”

You could have screamed at him, strangled him in a rage. “Ezra please! I - ”.

The warning look he gave you stopped any further pleading. Your mind reeled, trying to find some way to get relief. You could kick him out and try to finish yourself off with your fingers, but you knew it would be fruitless; you’d never gotten this worked up on your own before and you doubt that you had anything in this clinic that vibrated at that frequency.

As you trembled and panted, Ezra watched, amused at how clearly you were seeking a solution to the problem he’d created for you.

“Cricket…”, he cooed, soothing his biological hand up your arm and to your face. He gently guided your chin towards him. “Sweet Cricket, come back to me.”

When your frantic gaze met his, his eyes softened and creased as he smiled. “I will not leave you unfinished. I repay my debts, darling nurse.”

You sighed in defeat, nodded, and took a deep breath. Your eyes trailed down to his noticeably rounder middle that made the already strained zipper pull at the seams of the fabric. He shifted in what looked like discomfort.

You put down the current half-filled plate of food and reached for the zipper tag, tugging it down. It only got to the beginning of the swell of his belly before you met resistance. You tugged a little harder, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Suck it in.”

“Now, Cricket, let’s not be hast-“

“I said suck it in.”, you snapped back far more forcefully than intended.

Ezra froze then nodded. “Sweet girl, I will try, but…” You saw his middle pull in slightly. “… the profound conundrum I experienced in getting it on…”

The zipper finally moved, and he groaned as his stomach expanded. “Sweet Kevva… such relief.”

You were desperate for him to touch you again, but seeing him fat and swollen before you, knowing it was your work that was filling him out. Ezra watched your gaze turn hungry and almost feral. Granted, he felt that way as he watched you teeter on the edge of falling apart over and over. He wasn’t ready to let the power he held over you go, giving him the drive to get through, bite by bite. But that power began to slip the moment his vulnerable and considerably rounder middle exposed, and it left him feeling uneasy and unsure.

“A change of flavour… is needed, my sweet Cricket.”, Ezra crooned, trying to exude as much confidence he could muster, despite his self-consciousness lingering in the back of his mind. He swallowed down a moan as your blown-pupiled eyes met his. He pushed a faux-confident smile and spoke softer. “Something sweeter, perhaps?”

Letting a small huff escape, you nodded and got up from the bed, cursing him under your breath for having this much power over you.

As you stood in the small kitchen area, waiting for the food rehydrator to loudly prepare the freeze-dried baked goods, you didn’t hear Ezra huff and grunt as he got off the bed and saunter into the kitchen. You weren’t alerted to his presence until his belly hit your back and his brass hand went to your hip.

His nose and mouth pressed against the back of your neck, whispering filth as his hand cupped your breast and squeezed.

“You leave yourself so vulnerable, sweet Cricket... back to the door, not an ounce of concern…. any rapscallion of low morals could take advantage… of your sweet, supple figure…”

You let out a light, breathy whine gripping his hand as he kneaded your breast. As much as you wanted his hands on you, you wanted his mouth on your own more, so you pushed your body back against his, making enough room between him and the counter for you to turn around. His brass hand stayed on the curve of your waist, not offering any resistance, and his other hand cupped your cheek, holding it in place while he kissed you softly. His lips moved against yours like he was able to read your mind, or maybe even needed this point of contact as badly as you did. His mouth parted and his tongue pushed for entrance into your mouth, and once it was granted, the kiss fevered and boiled over. You felt your core throb with need and want, soaking your pants and already ruined underwear, and he crowded you against the counter. So wrapped up were you in his mouth and teeth and tongue, that you didn’t feel his brass hand move from your waist.

In one swift move, Ezra shoved your pants down in the front enough for his brass hand to slip with no barrier into your folds. The cool touch you would have expected from it was long forgotten as the metal now met your body temperature. Still engulfed in the kiss that was beginning to rob your breath, the telltale clunk barely registered in your mind until the vibrations started. Sending a jolt through your body, you pulled your face away from his and let out a shrill gasp.

The timer on the rehydrator went off, and Ezra chuckled darkly, watching your brows draw together and your eyes flutter.

“The rules stay the same, Cricket. Sweet or savoury, I will have my fill and you will have your petite mort. But one will meet the other at the same time.”, he said in a wickedly soft tenor. “Now, you can begin holding up your end, sweet girl.”

Once again, Ezra ripped away any power you might have had or believed you had, edging you with each bite, withholding his metal hand’s vibrations from the moment his mouth was empty to the moment your hand shakily pushed another bite past his lips. Overstimulation mixed with the pent-up fury of being denied an orgasm had you panting rapidly, tears threatening to spill over. High pitched whines and shuddering whimpers were all you could produce, and it was music to Ezra’s ears.

“You… create the most… glorious cricket song…”, he mused softly as he chewed the mouthful. “Keep chirping, sweet girl…”

You were coming to a point where you weren’t sure you would make it. Your brain felt like it was filled with the static from a communicator’s blank channel and your hearing and sight felt fuzzy. The coil tightening in your cunt was hitting a painful level, causing you to drop the next pastry you’d picked up with your shaking hands.

As soon as it hit the floor, Ezra tsk’d you, and pulled his hand right out of your pants. The pained sob that burst from you from the loss of contact was loud and harsh, and the tears finally spilled over, staining your cheeks.

“P-please… I… I can’t!”, you cried out, jutting your hand out clumsily to grab his wrist as he pulled back. His dark eyes scanned your desperate ones, pausing momentarily, before his gaze shifted to one of pity and amusement.

“You can’t what?”, he mocked with a cruel grin. “Can’t what, sweet Cricket?”

A rasped and pained whine peeled out of your throat as your head fell to his shoulder, and his hand gripped your hair and pulled back, forcing you to look at him. You looked ruined. Your cheeks flushed and eyes wet and lidded, your lips parted, turned down and chin quivering. He shoved up back and up onto the counter.

“Oh, come now, sweet Cricket. Don’t look at me like I won’t give you your due.”, he whispered, ghosting his mouth over yours. His brass fingers traced lurid shapes along your inner thighs, causing your body to shiver and that coil painfully wind up in your core once more.

“I asked you for something sweeter, pet,”, Ezra mockingly cooed as he pulled back, your face involuntarily following his to try and capture his lips against yours. He shook his head, smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “Something sweeter and you dropped it on the floor. It’s precious currency, Cricket, and you mishandled it.”

Your eyes followed his, stuck in the trance he’d put you under. He could have told you to do anything, given any order and you would have obeyed to your detriment. His brass hand moved to your throat, long, metal fingers grasping just tight enough to keep you precariously seated on the edge of the counter. His thicker middle forced you legs open wide, and his other hand took its place between your legs and without warning, he shoved two fingers into your core.

Your mouth and eyes widened as a wrecked gasp escaped you and your hands went to grab onto what ever meaty part of him you could grab for stability. Ezra hummed in response as the pads of his fingers felt the walls of your cannel twitch and flutter at his intrusion.

“Good Kevva, sweet girl…”, he groaned, watching your face contort. “As much as this contraption of a limb can bring me such sadistic joy at your expense, my own digits needed to feel the silken walls of your inner sanctum.”

As he pumped his fingers in and out of you, he dropped his forehead against yours and hummed again, answering your repeated whining pants and moans.

“Keep chirping, Cricket… sing me your evening song… that’s it….”

As you felt your peak come careening in, he felt your walls convulse and slicken up. The soft tenor he’s just lulled you into a steady rhythm with fell away and the low chuckle followed by his fingers being removed made you scream out and dig your nails into the fattened flesh of his upper arm and shoulder.

“EZ-EZRA! PLEASE! FUCK-PLEASE!”, you sobbed out in a shriek.

His brass hand’s hold tightened around your throat, and he shoved your shoulders flush with the wall behind counter roughly.

Your desperate eyes looked him over as best as you could, given the position he had you in. His bloated and full stomach moved with each laboured breath he took and the strain he put himself under to wreck you was fully apparent. You could feel the outline of his clothed hard cock seated against your thigh and the sweat beading on his forehead. He wiped his face and parted his lips to take in deeper breaths; his irises were indiscernible from his pupils as he looked down at you.

You had never known need like this, and you felt as though you were going to succumb due to your lack of orgasm as a final line in the life that Kevva had written for you.

“P…please…”

“Is it my cock you want to be impaled on, pet? You want to whine and mewl while I rut my quiver bone into your sopping celestial cavern?”, he coolly growled, but there was a slight waiver in his voice. You saw the same desperation in the dark abyss of his eyes.

You nodded dumbly and he scowled, baring his teeth, and tore his brass hand off you, trying to make quick work of getting his flight suit off his shoulders. The arms were tight around his fleshy arms, and you shakily sat up and tried to help. Once his arms were free, you tugged the material over his waist, taking note of the roll of flesh sitting just above his waistband, showing just how much he had been indulging. You gave it a squeeze, revelling in the sound he made, sucking his breath thru his teeth at your fingers.

“Marvel the fruits of your labour, Cricket… The destination you set me on course to has made me beyond redemption and unfit for galactic adventuring…”, he grunted breathily, shoving his flight suit off his legs before kicking it off entirely. “You have effectively rendered me useless beyond what effect I am able to wield on you.”

He shoved his mouth against yours before you could respond or ask what he meant, sucking you into a bruising kiss. His hands gripped your hips, pulling your twitching cunt flush with his weeping, hard cock, knocking the plastic plate that held the desserts onto the floor at his feet. Fumbling slightly, he pulled back and gripped his member, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing it in all at once. The sting of his intrusion melded perfectly with the relief of finally connecting, and the sound you made caused Ezra to almost break. His eyes softened and his brows tented, body tense at the gentle yet firm, warm hold you had on him.

“I’m af-afraid I’ve pushed too far to allow for… for niceties and gentle welcomes, sweet Cricket…”, he panted against your face, teeth clenched as he tried to focus and draw this out as long as possible.

“Please move...”, you begged in a strained whine.

“If I move to fast, sweet Cricket, I will... end this fortuitous connection with an... an early release, and that would render me- fuck!... render me less than a gentleman...”

“You’re no gentleman... now shut up an-and fuck me!”

It seemed that your tight walls and frantic begging were too much for Ezra, and he pulled out with a grunt, followed by a whine as he came onto the plate on the floor. The vulgar sounds of his panting breaths mixed with the sploot of his spend had you seeing red.

“You asshole!”, you screeched, shoving him off you.

He panted and held his hands up in surrender as you charged at him.

“Cricket... forgive me! You’re too sweet... your sacred cavern was too - “

The slap you landed across his face stopped his fancy wordplay. “You fucking bastard!”

Ezra’s eyes flashed in anger, and he stood to his full height, towering over you.

“That was uncalled for, Cricket.”, he snarled. “I will take the wrath of meeting an end without you by my side, but I will not allow you to besmirch my good mother with a question of my paternal lineage.”

You stared at him, eyes wide with anger at his audacity, and before you could say another word, he tackled you to the floor. You tried to fight him off but the moment you heard the clunk of his brass arm and felt two metal fingers punch up into your slick heat, you ceased your struggle.

“See, sweet Cricket? I may be a wayward traveler, but even I know the dangers of leaving a woman on the precipice of completion... “

“Don’t stop... please... don’t stop...”

The vibrations of his arm and the smooth curves of the worn metal fingers found a rhythm that had you seeing stars.

“I plan to keep demanding your company each time I move through this sector, and-”

“Oh Kevva... Ez-Ezra!”

He leaned forward and ghosted his mouth over yours, speaking in a low, husky growl, “... if I were to fail you now, what kind of welcome would I receive the next time I darken your doorway?”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull and your body arched off the floor. Pent up energy burst from your burning cunt, sending wave after wave of precious release through your body. The scream that peeled out of you was dampened by Ezra kissing you forcefully.

His movement slowed and he slowly pulled his brass hand from your core. You were greeted with his grin as he looked over his brass hand.

“You’ve polished only two fingers for me... there are three more.”, he cooed, placing a delicate kiss on the end of your nose. “Next time.”

“N-next time?”

He nodded and stood up with a grunt. You sat up carefully, and it seemed you both took note of the plate on the floor, covered in his cum. The chastisement was on your tongue, but never became words out loud as you were struck speechless as you watched him pick up the plate and fling it out the window.

He turned back to you, standing naked in the kitchen, fat and sweaty, with a grin on his face.

“There is always a next time, Cricket.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #ezra prospect #fat ezra #chubby!ezra #chubby ezra rights !!!#🥩#900 friendo celebration #900 milestone #900 followers #pedro pascal tummy #you ask beefro answers #thot tank #you asked beefro answered

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justagalwhowrites · 11 months

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Lavender - Ch. 15

You cut a deal with Tess to get outside the QZ but your escort isn't who you expect. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-14 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, allusion to miscarriage (not described, only about a sentence). No use of Y/N. Whole fic is violent and smutty so minors, DNI! 18+ only

Length: 4k

You were so lightheaded teaching the next morning, you made a plan to check your blood pressure the second you got to the clinic. One of your coworkers made a comment about how pale you looked and offered you a small bottle of juice, something you were pretty sure was the only reason you were able to walk to the clinic to begin with.

So when you saw Tess leaning against the wall outside, you weren’t exactly thrilled. If Joel had picked that minute to go downhill, you didn’t think you could run to his apartment let alone have the stamina for exploratory surgery on the Millers’ living room floor. For both your sakes, he’d better be doing well.

“Everything OK with the patient?” You asked as you came up.

“He’s fine, all things considered,” she replied. “Was holding down water this morning, some food, too.”

“Good,” you said. “I can grab you those antibiotics…”

“I’m here to talk to you,” she said, eyes ranging over you. You thought about arguing with her but just sighed instead. If this woman was going to be taking you out of the QZ, you should learn to deal with her now. “Your… friend wouldn’t let me wait inside. Wouldn’t say why but I don’t think he likes me much.”

“Assuming we’re not underwater,” you said. “We can talk.”

You went inside, Andrew behind the front counter. He glared at Tess for a moment before looking you over and frowning.

“You look like shit,” he said, getting up and coming around the desk.

“Gee thanks,” you rolled your eyes. He took your face in his hands and tilted it, examining you in the florescent light.

“Seriously,” he replied “Haven’t seen you look quite like this since…”

“Yeah, well,” you cut him off, not ready to talk about the day you lost your child with this woman you’d met the night before. He let you go. “I survived that too, right?”

He glared at Tess again.

“Guess so.”

“How busy is it at the moment?” You asked, looking to the half empty waiting room and praying there wasn’t anyone who needed surgery that day. Standing and operating for hours sounded dangerous.

“You can have a slow start,” he was still watching Tess as though she were a wolf waiting to strike.

“Any exam rooms open?”

“No one in six through eight,” he replied.

“We’ll be in six,” you said. “Just come get me when things go to shit.”

“They always do,” he said, going back behind the desk.

You led the way back to the exam rooms, Tess staying close behind you. You closed the door, looking her up and down. She looked to be in better shape than she was the night before.

“Need anything patched up while you’re here?” You asked anyway, grabbing the blood pressure cuff and sitting on the exam table before strapping it around yourself. You squeezed the pump, tightening the cuff down.

“No,” she shook her head. “I took a few hits but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good,” you said, checking the numbers. 80/40. You sighed. “Shit.”

“What?” She asked. You yanked the cuff free.

“Well,” you sighed. “I need to basically try to not faint all day and just keep my fingers crossed no one comes in needing an appendectomy because I’m the only one here tonight who can do surgery. I didn’t have a good way to track how much blood I was transferring, I let it go longer than I should have.” You wrapped the cuff and set it on the exam table next to you before holding onto the edge of it, watching Tess. “What did you want to talk about?”

She sighed, crossed her arms and leaned against the counter opposite you. It was like she was sizing you up - but whether it was as an opponent or an ally, you weren’t sure.

“You and Joel,” she began, but you cut her off.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you said. “That man hates me. Fucking hates me. If he could shoot me on the street and get away with it, he would.” Your stomach turned as you said it. You swallowed the bile and pressed on. “Nothing is happening with us. What happened last night was him delirious from blood loss. It was nothing. Less than nothing.”

It was the same thing you’d told yourself the night before when you fell apart in your bed, his picture still on your bedside table, the shirt that still smelled like him tucked below the pillow on his side of the bed. It still hurt to think it.

Tess rolled her eyes.

“If you think I give a shit about who the man sleeps with, you’re not nearly as smart as I thought you were,” she said. “He could fuck the entire QZ for all I care.”

“Oh,” you looked at her. “Then…”

“I care about who he’s willing to fuck our business over for,” she said. “And, apparently, that’s you.”

You frowned.

“I don’t…”

“We trade with people all over the QZ,” she said. “I’ve set up meeting points all over this fucking hell hole over the last five years. Some are safer than others. The safest ones happen to be right around the corner from your apartment.”

“OK,” you looked at her, incredulously.

“He won’t trade at those spots,” she said. “Would rather do it right under a FEDRA guard’s nose than go within 500 yards of your place. I never knew why he refused to go into that area, why he would walk a mile out of his way to avoid it. Then, last night, I saw where your place is. And you… Well, you damn near killed yourself to save him. Now it makes sense.”

You blinked, surprised.

“That…” you shook your head. “I don’t…”

“He’d never mentioned you,” she said. “Not once. We’ve come back banged up from outside the QZ before and the fact that he knew a doctor? Never came up.”

“Well yeah,” you said. “Because he hates me. If he’s avoiding me that much it’s because he hates me…”

“I don’t really care why it is,” she said, looking you over again. Her eyes lingered on your hair, the flowers you stitched onto your skirt to patch a hole. “But it’s not because he hates you.”

You looked at her shoes and chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment before looking back up at her.

“So what do you want me to do about it?” You asked. “You obviously have… gotten to know him. You think anyone can control what he does?”

“I can,” she said. “Except, apparently, when it comes to you. But I don’t think there’s a damn thing either of us can do about that.”

“So why come talk to me?” You asked.

“I like to be informed,” she shrugged. “We do delicate shit, Joel, Tommy and me. I like to control variables. You’re a variable those idiots never thought to mention.”

“Well, I promise to stay out of your way,” you said. “I’m not looking to cause Joel any more pain. I just want to make sure Joel and Tommy don’t get themselves killed doing something stupid. Same offer extends to you, by the way, if you’re going to be running around outside the QZ with them.”

She looked surprised, a small, amused smile on her lips.

“Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

“I’m at the school until 2:30 during the week,” you said. “Here on the weekends. Otherwise I’m home. So now you know where to find me….”

She nodded slowly.

“You just do it all, don’t you?” She said. “Teaching, surgery, donating blood…”

“Well I don’t have much else going on in my life,” you sighed. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Your trip outside the QZ,” she said. “It’ll be about a month. We went too close together this time, kicked the hornet’s nest a bit too hard. Need to give it time to die down before we try to cut through raider territory again.”

“Should be fine,” you shrugged. “That will give me time to get more information on just what I need…”

“Has to be the Harvard Medical Library?” She frowned. “That’ll be tricky to get to…”

“I mean I guess I could just go to the Boston Public Library for the hyper-specific studies that were only published in niche medical journals because JAMA didn’t want to touch them,” you said wryly. “I’m sure they’re there, too…”

“Harvard Medical it is,” she said. “I’ll be in touch in about a month. Let you know exactly when I’ll take you.”

You slid off the exam table and had to steady yourself, your head spinning. Tess reached out to help you, holding onto your arm until you could see straight again.

“Thanks,” you said, taking your arm back. She looked you up and down one more time.

“I like you,” she said. “I can see why they like you.”

“Like me or hate me, probably best to not tell Joel who exactly it was who stitched him up last night,” you said, leading the way back to the waiting room and stopping at a medicine cart. You covered the lock before keying in the code opening it. You grabbed a bottle of broad spectrum antibiotics already dosed out for one person and handed them to Tess. “He might just pry the stitches out if he knew they came from me. Fuck knows what he’d do about the blood.”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” she gave you a smile. You smiled a bit, too. She didn’t call you Kid. “See you in a month.”

Saturday, November 21, 2009

“I really don’t like this,” Andrew was pacing your apartment, his arms crossed. “I should be the one to go…”

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” you rolled your eyes. You were sitting on the couch, your backpack ready to go beside you, watching him go back and forth across your tiny space. Your apartment had always looked too small for Andrew. He crossed it in just four strides. Step, step, step, step, turn. Repeat.

“Why?” He asked, stopping in front of you. “I’m a guy, way less likely to have someone try to…”

“Well, for starters, you don’t know jack shit about medical research,” you replied. “You’ve got training as a field medic, you don’t know what to look for to develop treatments for anything and yeah, there are some specific studies I’m looking for, but I want to pick up as much as I can that will be helpful while I’m there. You need knowledge to parse that out. You can’t do that.”

He ground his teeth but didn’t say anything.

“And,” you continued. “You’ve got Jess to go home to. I’ve got nothing to worry about outside of work and you. I’m more expendable.”

“You’re not expendable,” he glared at you. “Just because that fucking guy…”

“It’s not his fault,” you rolled your eyes. “I just don’t have people besides you. That’s OK, I’m very happy that I have you. You do have people. That’s a good thing. Lean into it.”

There was a sharp knock at the door.

“She’d better bring you back in one piece or I swear to God…” he muttered, stalking over to open the door.

Your jaw almost dropped.

It was Joel.

***

He hadn’t seen Andrew since the night he found out. Since the night he left you. Joel had barely even thought of the guy and now he was staring him down like he was about to punch him in the face. Again.

Joel hadn’t stopped him last time. He wasn’t sure he would now, either.

He’d been on the couch, staring at the wall. Everything had consumed him. Memories of how Sarah died, all the ways it could have been different, the idea of his child with you. All the ways the world would be different now if he’d just fucking known. Tommy had tried talking to him. He wanted to respond but he couldn’t really understand what he was saying, wasn’t sure he could move to answer him even if he could.

Tommy opened the door and Andrew had shoved past him. He grabbed Joel by the collar, yanking him to his feet. Joel was almost surprised when his legs held his weight, it hadn’t seemed like they could but they did.

“You fucking asshole!” Andrew punched him across the jaw, hard. He stayed standing, more because he wasn’t sure he remembered how to fall or how to move away from him.

“Hey!” Tommy yelled, trying to pull him back. He just shrugged him off and hit Joel again. The blow was closer to his eye.

“She almost fucking DIED for you, for your kid!” He screamed as Tommy dragged him out. “She almost died and you’re pissed she did that without you?” He broke free of Tommy’s grip and lunged for Joel again, shoving him back. Joel stumbled but stayed standing. “Fucking fight back you asshole! I watched her bleed out for you and this is what you fucking do?”

He stood there, panting in front of him. Joel still hadn’t moved of his own accord.

“I knew you’d do something like this,” he said, voice trembling but calmer. “Go to hell, Joel.”

He didn’t look any happier to see him now, blocking his view of inside your apartment. Joel pushed past him.

“Ready?” He asked. You shrank back from him, pressing into the corner of the couch.

“Where’s Tess?” You asked. “She was supposed to take me.”

“Asked me to,” he said gruffly. It was a lie. He hoped you wouldn’t notice. “If you’re goin’, let’s go.”

You nodded and got up, putting your backpack on.

“You can’t be serious,” Andrew gaped at you. “He’s going to take you out there and fucking kill you and you’re going to just go along with him…”

“Hey!” Joel snapped at him but you cut him off.

“It’s fine, Andrew,” you smiled tightly at him. “I’ll see you in a few days. Cover for me at work, yeah?”

He ground his teeth, looking between you and Joel, his eyes eventually settling on Joel.

“If she doesn’t come back, you’d better not either,” he said. “Show your face again here and you’ll wish you got bitten. We clear?”

“Crystal,” Joel looked down at you. You were dressed for a hiking trip and you’d French braided your hair and put fucking ribbons on the ends of your pigtails. Even in the goddamn apocalypse you had a seemingly endless supply of ribbons. “Let’s move, we need to get out of the fence before 6 a.m.”

You trailed silently behind him as he led the way across the QZ. He hated it. Hated being this fucking close to you again, how it felt like a relief. Like the grip that had been on his heart for the last few months finally loosened and he could really breathe. He hated how quiet you were. He hated how much he liked being near you, even knowing what you’d kept from him. What that secret had taken from him.

It was a cold reminder of just how miserable he’d been since he’d left you. The distance hadn’t helped. He still thought about you all the time but now it was tinged with the future you’d decided on your own. He couldn’t bring himself to be anywhere near you. It hurt too much. It was going to destroy him. It was part of how he’d ended up working with Tess to begin with.

She saw him one afternoon, a week and a day after he’d left you - everything seemed to be marking time by how long it had been since he’d left you - when some fucking asshole tried to pick his pocket on the street. He’d caught the guy easily. Felt him reach into his pocket, knew where to grab him, where to throw him to make him regret it. If it had been before he’d left you, he might have just taken the ration cards back. Now, he wanted a fight. Wanted the anger. Wanted to feel something, anything, besides this wanting and emptiness and desperation for a future he could never have because you’d never given him the fucking chance to take it.

“Think he’s had enough,” Tess said, Joel’s chest heaving. He dropped the guy into the dirt, picking his now bloody ration cards up off the ground and stuffing them in his pocket. He gave Tess a nod and started to head home but she caught up to him.

“Where’d you learn that?” She asked, walking alongside him. He looked her up and down once before looking straight ahead again.

“Outside the fuckin’ QZ,” he said bluntly. She smirked.

“Perfect.”

She asked him for a drink at the speakeasy, asked if he was interested in work besides the one off jobs he did every day. Something with some excitement, something where he could use the skills he’d honed in his life before the QZ.

“Could use a man like you at my back,” she said. “But you’d have to do what I fucking say, I don’t do this lone wolf bullshit. Either you respect me and my experience or you can fuck off.”

“I can do that,” he said.

She first kissed him a month later. It felt…wrong. She was too tall, didn’t fit into him right. Her lips weren’t soft like yours. She didn’t smell like lavender. He kissed her anyway, until she started taking her clothes off.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” he muttered, looking away from her. “I’m not lookin’… I can’t be your anything…”

“I’m not asking you to fall in love with me, Joel,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m asking if you want to fuck me. Doesn’t have to be anything but that. Fuck me - and whoever else you want - here, keep me alive out there. If you’re interested.”

His eyes ranged over her. She was a good looking woman. He wasn’t blind. But she wasn’t you. He almost said no. But it was over with you and he needed to get you out of his system. He hated that, too. He didn’t hate Tess. He hated wishing she was you.

He hated how he’d barely even known you were going to begin with. Tess had mentioned making a solo run earlier in the week after taking a meeting about it.

“Why’re you goin’ alone?” He’d frowned at her from across the table.

“Just some researcher,” she waved him off. “FEDRA wouldn’t give them permission or staff to go get what they need for whatever passion project they have so I’m taking them.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if I went, too?” His frowned deepened. “Or Tommy?”

“Trying to not poke the bear for the raiders so the fewer the better,” she shrugged. “Don’t think she’d hold her own very well in that situation…”

“Who’s she?” He asked, frowning. Most of the FEDRA people were men, especially anyone educated enough to be doing research. Everyone except…. “What kind of research?”

“Medical,” she shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. If he hadn’t gotten to know Tess over the last few months, he wouldn’t have even noticed the quick, cagey glance.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, fuck no, you’re not takin’ her out there…”

“What, don’t trust me with your girlfriend?” She asked, eyebrows raised.

“She’s NOT my girlfriend,” he snapped.

“Then why do you care, Joel?” She quirked a brow at him. He ground his teeth.

“Just do,” he snapped. “You’re not takin’ her.”

“Well, too fucking bad because I’ve already agreed to it,” she replied.

“Just don’t take her fucking money and tell her you can’t,” he raised his voice. “It’s not that fuckin’ hard, Tess…”

“We owe her,” she snapped. “She wouldn’t take money, only a trade. This is all she wanted so I’m doing it.”

“What the fuck did we trade her for?” He demanded. “The fuck you doing trading with her at all?”

“I traded for your fucking life, Joel,” she said. “You really think me and Tommy were able to pull a bullet out of your stomach and keep you alive on our own? Jesus Christ, you’re not that dumb…”

He sat back in his chair. So he hadn’t imagined you that night. He’d been dreaming so vividly, it was like he did before he’d come to the QZ, back when he thought you were dead and gone. It had felt so real that time, he’d thought he’d died, that he’d somehow ended up in the same place as you. Even though that didn’t make any damn sense - he’d killed far too many people to ever go to heaven, if heaven existed, and there’s no way you’d end up anywhere else. You’d been so close. A strange warmth was spreading through him and you were there, soft and beautiful and sad. It made sense that you were dead, that he’d died, too. More sense than anything else.

“I’ll take her,” he said gruffly.

“Thought you didn’t want anything to do with her,” she replied. “At least that’s what her and Tommy both say. She’s convinced you hate her. Said you’d shoot her in the street if you could get away with it.”

“I said I’m takin’ her so I’m fuckin’ takin’ her.” He snapped. “Either that or she doesn’t go with us. End of discussion.”

He stalked off from the table, his chest tight. Just the thought of you, outside the QZ walls without him…

He knew what life out there was like. It’d get you killed and that’s if you were fucking lucky. If you were unlucky, it’d get you kidnapped and brutalized first. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to fucking hate you, he couldn’t let you go with someone who wasn’t willing to die for you. Too big a risk. It had to be him.

“Did Tess tell you the deal?” You asked after you’d been walking for a bit.

“Just that I’m takin’ you to Harvard,” he said gruffly.

“Right,” you nodded, glancing up at him. “You’re my guide, that’s all. I don’t want or expect you to be my bodyguard and keep me alive. I just need someone to help me find the place.”

“Didn’t fuckin’ tell Andrew that,” he muttered.

“Well, Andrew’s Andrew,” you shrugged. “Besides, I think you’re safe. He’s not capable of killing anyone….”

Joel started watching for FEDRA guards as they got closer to the gap in the fence they used to slip in and out of the QZ. He held up the broken part for you and you scrambled below it, him following close behind.

You were smart enough to drop when the search light panned over in their direction, you taking shelter behind a car that was lying on its roof. Joel kept his eyes on you. You were still so goddamn pretty. Even hiding from FEDRA you were fucking pretty. He ground his teeth.

“Move,” he said under his breath when the light passed, grabbing you by the backpack and hauling you along through the debris field that ran along the outside of the QZ. He kept you both down low until you were fully clear of it, outside control of the state and under threat of raiders and clickers and men who’d survived like Joel had: taking what they needed and killing when necessary.

“Last chance to turn around,” he looked down at you. “It’s shit out here.”

“Wasn’t exactly expecting a stroll in the park, Miller,” you said. “I know what I’m doing.”

“These medical books better be fuckin worth it,” he muttered, leading the way toward Harvard. “Let’s go.”

A/N: It's their first run outside the QZ and it's just Doc and Joel. So many possibilities 😏

This arc will likely run for about 2 more chapters with allllll kinds of interesting shit coming up for these two. I hope you enjoy it!

Thank you, as always, for reading and interacting. Your comments so frequently make my day and it means so much to know that people are embracing this story. I THINK I got everyone added to the tag list who wanted it but please let me know if you were missed. I want to make sure I loop you in! Love you!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzell @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 1 year

Text

Here, Kitty, Kitty (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnlingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Thank you all so, so, soooo much for the love on this story! I'll be writing some brand new shit soon! Stay safe! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

*************

TEN.

When the next day comes, it brings with it some unseasonably warm weather that Aizawa feels when he wanders into the living room and finds you gone.

He isn’t sure how you got out since the windows are locked, but he supposes that cats have their ways. He feels a twinge of disappointment at seeing you gone once again, but he knew that you would probably want to be outside and not cooped up in a dorm all day.

Plus, now that Eri has more hope that you’ll come home after your adventures, she seems much happier. Even when he wakes her up in time to get her ready to hang with Hitoshi before his classes begin, she is a giggly, upbeat little ball of energy.

“Maybe she’ll bring back a present,” she happily says as she and Aizawa walk hand and hand across campus. “Or maybe she’s with other kitties! You think she’ll let us meet them, Daddy?” The way she looks up at him excitedly makes his heart clench. “If she trusts us enough and has friends, sure,” he chuckles.

During the entire day of work, Aizawa is feeling pretty good, though one thing could make his day go a whole lot better: seeing you. He purposely has stopped by your office a few times when taking bathroom breaks just to see you, but every time he does, you’re never in. He thinks that maybe you just took off today or perhaps your hours are different this week.

Whatever it is, it’s none of his business, but he can't help the disappointment he feels at not seeing your pretty face or cute little ears.

He has no idea why since he ends up becoming a rock-hard, blushing mess over them regardless. He doesn’t know how he was able to say even one coherent sentence to you while he and Eri were eating ice cream yesterday afternoon. Maybe Eri was the missing link. Or maybe the ice cream. It’s been proven chocolate works as an aphrodisiac.

Aizawa can’t help but feel wistful about his conversation yesterday with you. It was all so amazing that it felt like a good dream to him–the easiness he felt speaking to you; the way such joy sparkled in your eyes; your musical laughs that he wanted to hear again and again; the way you engaged Eri that made him want to put a baby in you himself. It all felt so good. So right. He can't help but feel like that may never happen to him and you again.

He’s just too damn anti-social. Too shy. Too awkward. What would he be able to say without Eri linking the two of you together? How can he speak to you, especially with those damn ears and that tail he wants to desperately stroke?

Where does he even begin to learn how to charm and woo a woman when he hasn’t had the urge to do so since high school?

He knows just the person to talk about this with, so after the day is through and school is out, he and Mic take a trip to the faculty dorms’ private gym. They leave Eri in the kids’ section that Nezu specifically created for her and any other faculty members that may have a child. So far, she’s the only one occupying the space.

While Eri colors and sings along to the Little Mermaid playing on the TV overhead, Aizawa gives Mic the rundown on his dilemma as he does his bicep curls with some 16 lb dumbells.

Mic is overjoyed as he does his cool-down stretches, his long legs splayed out in front of him. “Ah, I’m so glad you’re coming to me with this, Shouta!” he happily says, grinning at his friend. “We need to talk like this more! It’ll do you good to open up about your concerns and anxieties with the ways of women.”

“Don't get used to it,” Aizawa grumbles, giving Mic a fixed stare from the bench. “I’m only tellin’ you because you’re the only one I semi-trust with this.”

Mic just laughs as he continues his cool-down stretches, pressing down onto his knees. “And I only wanna talk to her because she seems nice. I don’t want her to think I hate people or whatever.”

Mic glances at him curiously. “But you do hate people.”

Aizawa flushes as he bends forward, still doing his curls. “Well, yes, but she’s too nice to be all people,” he argues. “She actually gives a fuck about her job and the way she engaged in conversation with Eri was just…”

He trails off and smiles dreamily as his mind fills with visions of you and Eri together, in your own little world. The way you encouraged her to be her little bubbly, hyper self was the cutest shit he’d ever seen. You’d be a great mom, he knows…if you aren’t one already, that is.

Something in Aizawa wilts at the possibility of someone having you–maybe a partner or a husband. You never talked about being married or dating, especially to him, so he knows thinking this way is stupid. But dammit, he just can’t help himself or these intrusive thoughts. Feeling eyes on him, he looks at Mic, finding a goofy, knowing grin on his face. “Stop lookin’ at me like that,” he growls.

“Man, I don’t know why you don’t just admit that you like the girl!” Mic laughs, standing up and raising his arms, lean with muscle, high. “C’mon; she’s sweet, intelligent, loves kids, and has those cute lil’ cat parts. She’s your dream girl!”

Aizawa rolls his eyes, thinking his friend is just being overly dramatic as usual. “Just ask her out one day when she’s free. Simple as that!”

Aizawa softly grunts as he lays the dumbbells down at his feet, giving his arms a break. “I don’t just ask people out,” he huffs, frustrated. “And I’m not askin’ her out, to begin with. I just want to have a conversation with her without feeling awkward. I want us to be strictly friends.”

Mic just shakes his head pityingly at the professor. “Whatever you saaaay,” he sing-songs, obviously thinking differently. “But you should still ask her to lunch or something to get to know her if you don’t feel comfortable doing it around us in the break room.” He snaps his fingers, a lightbulb flicking in his head. “Maybe for some ramen! Everybody likes ramen, right?”

“Who likes ramen?” you suddenly ask from the door. Aizawa nearly chokes on the water he’s chugging down when he spots you in a bright yellow sports bra and black yoga pants that should be illegal on you, especially with the way you cut out the back so your tail can breathe. It swishes happily at your ankles when you spot Mic.

“I thought I heard your voice,” you giggle. “I could hear you all the way down the hall.” You come farther into the room with a dufflebag and Hydroflask.

As you do, your eyes fall onto Aizawa and your tail stops swishing. “Oh…sorry, I didn’t know you had company.” Aizawa’s mouth goes dry despite the water he just drank as he stares at you, forcing himself to not check you out.

Mic snickers quietly, already gathering his shit. “No, come in!” he enthusiastically insists. “I was just getting ready to leave. Gotta grade papers now or else I’ll never get to ‘em. But you don’t worry your pretty ears; Shouta here is a great gym buddy.” He turns to Aizawa and gives him a wink. “See you two tomorrow!” he chirps before he practically rushes out of the gym.

Aizawa makes a mental note to kill his friend and hide the body later.

When you walk farther into the room, you barely spare him a glance. Though it pains him, he can’t exactly blame you because he keeps his eyes down at his feet too as he proceeds to finish his bicep curls. Out of his peripheral, he watches as you lay a yoga mat down from the row of shelves underneath the mirror sitting in front of you. You wipe it down with a sanitized wipe before kicking off your shoes, plugging in your earbuds, and getting right to the warm-up stretches.

Aizawa can’t help but watch, noticing how flexible you are. The way you bend this way and that, your muscles moving with every pose, makes his cock grow embarrassingly hard in his sweats.

The air between you is tense and thick with something he can’t quite describe: Awkwardness? Definitely. Desire? Possibly, on his side. He just can’t help himself when he begins to acknowledge how good you look in yoga pants.

He quickly looks away, instead opting to look towards the empty treadmills on the other side of the room. What he wouldn’t give to get a handful of your ass, squeeze and spank the firm yet soft cheeks, and stroke that tail that invades his nightly thoughts. Maybe you’d let him dig his fingers into the hole of your pants and rip it further, revealing the cute little panties hiding underneath. Or maybe you’d have none on at all. It would give Aizawa the perfect chance to pull those asscheeks apart and finally put his face in it as his tongue relishes the taste of your sweet, perfect, wet little–

“Mind if I use these?” you ask, suddenly next to him. He nearly jumps, finding you pointing at the eight lb dumbbells that Mic left.

He finds his voice after swallowing the lump in his throat. “Go ahead; I’m not usin’ ‘em.” He hopes that sounded the least bit of kind. You smile in thanks though and silently take the dumbbells from the spot Mic left them in.

He silently and sneakily watches as you begin to do your leg and glute workouts with some dumbbell lifts added in the mix: squats; lunges; kickbacks. All done right in his face. Do you know what you’re doing to him? Can you see the bulge growing in his sweats? Obviously not since your eyes are facing straight ahead, focusing strictly on your workout.

‘Fuck this,’ he thinks, sexually frustrated. He isn’t going to resort to being a perv. Quickly, he puts his dumbbells down and walks out of range to the other side of the gym farthest away from you. He walks straight up to the pull-up bar where he left his duffle bag for a specific reason. He usually goes for either cardio or dumbbells first to get his arms warmed up before proceeding with the “real” workout.

Aizawa takes his scarves out of his duffle and carefully wraps them around the pull-up bar, making sure to pull it tight enough so the scarves don’t unravel. Once finished, he wraps his fists up in each end of the scarves and begins to do his special arm exercises.

He uses his scarves as one would use resistance bands to build their upper arm strength, doing warmups to get the blood flowing in his arms. He concentrates on his bicep and tricep curls, and wrist exercises to keep his arms limber yet controlled, sweat beginning to drip into his eyes from how hard he’s going into his workout. He is finally able to focus on something other than you. ‘Thank God.’

Feeling like his arms are warmed up enough, he grips his scarves into his fists and pulls himself up, his arms clenching from his full body weight. He straightens his arms and crosses one foot over the other as he straightens his back. He envisions himself on a tightrope, forcing himself to stay still despite his arms beginning to rest since they’re the only things holding him up.

Grunting softly from the burn in his arm muscles, he relaxes his arms only to slowly flip backwards, his movements controlled from many years of training. He finally lands back on his feet, bending his knees slightly to avoid injuring himself. When he releases his scarves, his hands are red and his fingers ache from gripping them so tightly. He’s gotten used to that though. It is what comes with the pains of being a pro.

“That was really cool,” you suddenly say from behind him in the mirror. Your eyes are trained straight on him, wide with astonishment.

He turns around, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat out of his eyes. “Sorry!” You blurt, looking ashamed at your staring. “I’ve just never seen anyone do that before. You work out with your scarves?”

He notices the way your fluffy ears droop in embarrassment and he smirks to himself. “To keep myself familiar with ‘em,” he huffs before taking a sip of his water. “And to come up with new techniques. It never hurts to rehearse from time to time.”

He goes to take a seat on the floor to proceed with some push-ups, but as he does, a searing pain enters his lower back that makes him hiss. You stare on, concerned. “Just my back,” he reassures you. “Don’t worry about it.” The last thing he wants is for you to see him as old or decrepit.

But his body betrays him once again as he tries to get into position, a sharp pain in his lower back stabbing him. “Ah, shit!” he swears, his hand immediately flying to his lower back to rub at the ache.

It doesn’t help at all. He must’ve not done as much stretching earlier as he’d hoped. He glances at you, expecting you to be laughing at him–the sight of Eraserhead suffering from back pain in his early 30s must be hilarious.

But instead, you just look worried. “Maybe you should try this.” You slowly sit down in a crisscrossed position, your feet touching one another and lean forward so your back is straight and your chest is touching the floor. “This pose really helps with back pain. I do this as much as I can since I sit so much during work.”

Aizawa hesitates slightly, not wanting you to pity him. But with the way your soft eyes are coaxing him to follow, he mirrors your position anyway. As he slowly leans forward to straighten his back, he can feel some of that tension and ache beginning to evaporate. You smile in approval.

“Now stretch your arms up overhead,” you instruct him, raising your arms up to the sky. He follows, doing his best to hide back a blush. He feels like a little kid following your every move.

“Good; now place your hands on the floor and stretch your arms out as far as you can go in front of you. Don’t push yourself.” He follows you, raising his arms up before falling forward, his arms stretched out in front of him. He breathes deeply, allowing the stretches to do their work. He can feel the tension and aches in his muscles leaving him, his body recovering after his workout.

“Feel good?” you ask, a smile in your voice. He hums in response, his eyes fluttering closed. “The butterfly position helps too! Looks like this.” He lifts from his position, finding you sitting upright with your hands holding your feet. Your knees begin to move up and down, mimicking those of a butterfly’s wings.

Aizawa follows, feeling the stretch in his hamstrings and inner thighs. He raises an eyebrow at your smile like you’re trying to hold back a laugh. “You’re slouching,” you playfully giggle, rising from your seat to assist him. His heart begins to hammer in his chest as you kneel next to him. You’re so close. “May I?” you ask, giving him a soft, round-eyed look.

He nods, unable to speak. You move behind him and place a tentative hand on his lower back. He nearly shivers at your touch. Your hand is so warm. He wants to feel your touch everywhere. Not to mention the scent of your shampoo. What is that? Coconut? It’s driving him insane. All he can think about is that scent being all over him after he’s done fucking you.

“Just keep your back straight,” you utter, your breath fanning his cheek. “Grab onto your ankles for leverage if you need it.” Your voice is soft and inviting, coaxing him out of his comfort zone.

Swallowing harshly and forcing himself to not pop a boner, he does as you instruct: he straightens his back, puffs out his chest, presses his shoulders back, and grabs onto his feet. “Perfect!” you giggle, applauding him. “You’re a natural at this.”

“So are you,” he blurts, his voice lower than normal. “A-At teaching, I mean.” You smile at the compliment as you rise to your feet. “I used to teach yoga on YouTube as a way to pay for school. I had a dream of opening up my own yoga studio, but I guess my calling was to be a counselor.”

Aizawa commits the new info to his mental file cabinet on you. He can see you being a teacher in anything, knowing you’d do a good job with such a soft yet commanding aura. “I’ve been told my flexibility would make me a great hero,” you snicker, balling up your fists for a mock fight with him.

He chuckles, grunting as he stands. “It takes more than flexibility to be a hero.”

You laugh at his statement, hands on your hips. “You say that even though you have back pain in your thirties,” you retort boldly, then flush with embarrassment when Aizawa raises a brow at you. “I read everyone’s birthday on the faculty birthday calendar.”

Aizawa practically melts. Why the fuck do you have to be so goddamn cute? “Back pain or not, as a seasoned professional pro, I also have strength, both upper and lower, technique, and strict control over my quirk when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. You’ll need it when you’re fighting villains.”

You cock your head to the side, a purse in your pouty, kissable lips. “Show me some of them techniques then,” you playfully challenge, crossing your arms over your chest. “Since you’re so seasoned and so sure I don’t have what it takes.”

Aizawa cocks a brow at you, feeling a zing of electricity shoot through him at this newfound side of you–you’re so playful and sassy. It’s fucking hot. “Alright,” he sighs, “but you don’t complain when you twist a muscle.”

He begins to walk over to the right side of the gym which is known as the training portion of the room. Several punching bags and makeshift people made out of sandbags sit there, ready to be used by any seasoned or up-and-coming pro to train for missions and fights.

Aizawa and you stand in front of a makeshift person, its head and body two heavy burlap sacks filled with sand. He turns to you, stepping into the roles of a trainer and sensei. “So, we’ll start with the basics. Start by facing your opponent and analyzing them.”

You nod and turn to face the sandbag person, eyeing them up. He resists the urge to laugh at your cuteness. “If they have a quirk, what kind is it? Can you spot a weakness in it or your opponent’s body? Can you spot a pressure point perhaps? Maybe a place you can sink those claws into.”

You glance at him, straight-faced. “Ha, ha,” you deadpan. "I don’t even have claws.” Aizawa thinks that’s a lie. He’d opt to find out in his bed (or yours; he ain’t too picky) while he’s balls deep inside of you and your hands are gripping his back.

“So your opponent is coming at you,” he continues, willing the nasty thoughts away. “But you’re ready though. You’ll start by placing your foot on your least dominant side behind the foot on your dominant side.”

You do as he instructs, placing one foot behind the other. “Tilt your hips a little more so they’re angled to the side but facing me.” You attempt to do that as well, but can’t seem to angle your hips enough so they are parallel to your feet. A laugh in the form of a huff leaves his nostrils as he comes forward.

“May I?” he asks, his eyes flicking up to yours. Silently, you nod. “Like this.”

He places his hands on your hips which is a horrible idea. Now his cock his throbbing, begging to be released from its prison in his sweats. Your skin is so warm from the slip of your stomach that he gets from your pants riding low on your waist. Your body is tense, but you don’t stop him as he twists your waist to face him and angles your hips so they are straight.

“Now you’re gonna use your dominant leg to kick up and out, right at your opponent’s chest. Put your full weight into it.” He steps back, allowing you to act out the move. You turn to your opponent and, with an inhale, you kick your leg up and out at the middle of your opponent’s sandbag body, grunting as you do. It barely moves.

You turn to him with a shameful expression. “Let’s try that again,” he chuckles. “Push onto your opponent when your foot connects with their chest to push them down and away from you. Put all your weight into your leg.”

Once again, you try, letting out a forceful grunt as your foot connects with the sandbag. You push your opponent away, causing it to teeter slightly on its stand, and then fall backward.

You gape down at it, an excited gasp leaving your lips. “I did it!” you shout in triumph, your ears and tail frazzled. He nods, crossing his muscled arms over his chest. “Not bad for a rookie,” he playfully says. “Maybe you’ve got some potential…some.”

You turn to him, a mischievous and bold glint in your pretty, brown eyes. You purse your lips at him and lay your hands on your hips the way he wants to. “I’d say the same about you with yoga,” you retort, earning a chuckle from him and a surge from his cock.

You both stand there for a moment, staring at each other. No blinking. No talking. Just a surge of electricity that Aizawa can feel in the air. It’s intoxicating, dangerous, and so delicious. His eyes glance at your lips, zeroing in on how plump and glossy they are. He could just lean in and kiss you right now.

His phone suddenly goes off in his back pocket, making you both jump. Growling deeply at the ruined moment, he pulls his phone out and finds the reminder he set for 5 PM. “Shit,” he hisses. “I should be cooking dinner around this time for Eri. I have to go.”

“Oh, okay!” you reply, and he catches a glimpse of what he thinks is disappointment in your pretty eyes. Or is that just what he wants to see?

“I should be gettin’ back too,” you say, already moving to gather your things. “You just reminded me that I need to start cooking too before I end up ordering takeout again.”

Aizawa watches you, his heart clenching painfully. He doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want this moment to end with you. Can’t it just last a minute longer? “I could walk you back to your dorm if you want,” he suggests with a passive shrug. “It’s only safe.”

He keeps his tone tight and easy, but he’s dying for you to say yes. You look at him wide-eyed, shocked that he even offered. The little smile and nod you give him just about fills him to the brim with relief. So you don’t think that he’s a creep. Great start.

After you both gather your things, Aizawa collects Eri from the playroom, finding her sleeping on the floor. “Time to go home, puddin’,” he whispers to her as he scoops her up into his arms. She sleepily groans, her head lulling against his chest. Her eyes then flutter open to stare up at him. “Daddy, why are you smiling so much?” she groggily asks. He shushes her in response.

Luckily, the little girl falls right back to sleep as Aizawa accompanies you on your journey to your dorm. It doesn’t take long, but the last few minutes of feeling you beside him are all he needs. When you finally make it to your door, you give him a grateful smile. “Thanks for walking me back.”

He nods silently, willing himself to say something more. He thinks back to Mic’s words, conjuring up all the confidence he can muster to ask for your number. “Um, maybe we can do this again sometime?” he asks, a shy blush adorning his cheeks. “Just in case you ever decide to you wanna fuck up a sandbag person again.”

You blink at him, alarmingly quiet. He knew he’d fuck this up. It was all wishful thinking. Damn Mic and his advice. “O-Or you don’t have to,” he quickly adds. “No pressure. I just thought that–”

“I’d like that,” you interrupt, giving him a dazzling smile. “I can give you my number or…” You trail off, looking just as shy.

Relief floods Aizawa’s body as he gives you his number instead, his heart pounding as you type his digits into your contacts. That’s all it took, and yet Aizawa feels like he just walked on the moon. “See you tomorrow then,” he mumbles, abruptly turning on his heel to avoid grinning like an idiot at you.

“Shouta, wait!” you suddenly shout. He abruptly stops and turns to face you, finding you to still be standing at your door. “I-I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” you weakly say.

He blinks at you, noticing how nervous you suddenly look. His stomach immediately plummets, wondering what the flip in your demeanor could mean. Are you having second thoughts about his number? Are you with someone already?

Finally, you sigh, your shoulders slumping in defeat. “Nevermind; just be safe.” You give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes before you turn, unlock your door, and disappear into your dorm. Aizawa doesn’t have time to ponder what just happened. He silently walks back to his dorm with Eri in his arms and dinner on his mind, expecting a quiet, normal end to the night.

However, when he arrives at his door and spots the little black cat that has stolen Eri’s heart sitting by his dorm door, he realizes that tonight will be anything but normal. “Look, Eri,” he coos, smiling down at your little cat form as you push your furry body into his legs, your trail curling around his ankles.

“Our visitor is back.”

#shouta aizawa #shoutaaa #smutty smut #my fic shit #my works #here kitty kitty #bnha smut #black coded reader #black fanfic writer #black writers #aizawa x black!reader #shouta aizawa x black!reader

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sidekick-hero · 29 days

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(More than) Six (Smutty) Sentences Sunday Monday

I was tagged by the most amazing @acasualcrossfade - thank you my friend! While the boop war is going on I think we can turn the six sentence sunday to a more than six sentences Monday 😉

While the whole fic is very smutty, the following sentences aren't really, so no cut. Shout out to @starryeyedjanai, you tagging me yesterday finally gave me the push to trying to finish this. 💜💜💜

"There you go, sweetheart. I'm just going to get a washcloth to clean you up a little bit and I'll be back before you know it." Eddie has no idea what the protocol is here, so he decides to just do what he would do if he were the one hooking up with Steve. When he returns with a warm washcloth, he finds Steve in the same position he left him in, his eyes closed and his skin covered in goose bumps. Leaning over him, Eddie does his best not to think about what he's doing here, just focusing on taking care of Steve, just like the last time Steve had the flu and Eddie went over to help him. He had held Steve's hair as he puked his guts out, changed his clothes and sheets as he sweated through them, wiped him down with soft cold towels to cool his body temperature. That's what he's trying to channel as he lays Steve down on the king-sized bed and ties his hands to the headboard, taking care to make it as comfortable as possible as he twists the silk rope around his wrists and secures them to the bed. Checking in frequently with Steve, he continues to prepare the scene they discussed, using the spreader bar to place Steve in the most exposed and helpless position they could think of. His heart pounds in his chest and his stomach does somersaults whenever he allows himself even a second to take in Steve, to think about the way he's laid out like the most desirable gift. "How are you, Stevie?" He asks again when he's done, and when he doesn't get an immediate answer, he looks at Steve's face. It's far away, eyes glazed and mouth slack. Beautiful, Eddie thinks, not for the first time today either. Still, he has to make sure that everything is exactly right, so he has to bring Steve back from wherever he's floating. He strokes the inside of his thigh, an area so sensitive that Eddie hopes it will elicit a reaction from Steve. "Stevie, you have to answer me. How are you feeling? Is everything okay or should I change anything?" Hazel eyes slowly blink back at him as Steve comes to himself. "Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine. You're here." Steve says it as if that was all Eddie needed to know when he asked if anything was too tight or uncomfortable. Maybe it was. Eddie hopes so, because he finds that he likes being Steve's safety blanket.

Inviting @starryeyedjanai, @puppy-steve, @steddieas-shegoes, @matchingbatbites, @maxinemaxmayfield and @steveseddie to share some lines of their writing because I am greedy (no pressure though 💜)

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie wip #my writing #six sentence tag

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acasualcrossfade · 29 days

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Six Sentence Sunday Monday!

rules: post 6 sentences (smutty or not!) of an unfinished work

I was tagged by: @pearynice :heart: Thanks for tagging me!

Currently practicing smut for a fic, so here's a peek at it! A lil over six sentences, but hope you enjoy!

(Minors DNI)

Steve felt Eddie's touch travel up the length of his back, the sensation making him shiver as Eddie entered him ever so slowly from behind. Steve's head swam as he was slowly filled and his hips jutted, aching to take Eddie all at once.

"Impatient, aren't you? Thought you were gunna hold still for me, baby," Eddie crooned.

Steve obediently went still on all fours, his hands gripping the soft sheets as Eddie rewarded him with another slow centimeter. Steve whined, wanting Eddie, needing him inside.

"You're beautiful like this," Eddie mumbled, pressing a hand against Steve's warm hip as he carefully slid the rest of the way into Steve's needy hole.

No pressure tags: @sidekick-hero, @legitcookie, @imfinereallyy and @cranberrymoons :)

#steddie #wip game #steddie smut #acasualcrossfade writes #tag game

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marvel-ous-m · 30 days

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Six Sentence Sunday!

rules: post 6 sentences (smutty or not!) of an unfinished work

I was tagged by @pearynice !! Thank you for the tag, friend!

This is from my current WIP, Something's In My Mind (and I'm Focused On You)- Tried to keep spoilers to a minimum because the fic is currently at a very spoiler-able place!

Eddie sighed to himself as he shook the memory, glancing down at the watch on his wrist. 4:53pm. He grabbed his duffel bag from the floor next to him and exited his office, heading towards the back door. “I’m out, boys! See y’all in a week!” Eddie shouted the words loud enough that the guys could hear them from their respective spaces, where they were all either wrapping up with clients for the day or sticking around to work on some new designs. “Bye bye, loverboy! Have a good time!”

No pressure tags: @devondespresso @steventhusiast @madaboutmunson

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #em writes

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 17 days

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Steph! For the smutty fics:

Marcus Moreno and "Open wide for me."

Okay, thanks, byeeee 🫠

lol I can write a sequel to the other six sentence fic right away, thank youuuuu

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x gn. reader

Warnings: smut (oral male receiving)

"Open wide for me," Marcus whispered, mesmerised that he had you on your knees in front of him, your big eyes staring up at him, your mouth dropping open obediently.

He hadn't planned this when he went out to the bar tonight to meet some friends, unaware you would be there too.

One thing led to another, the both of you talking all night, before you asked him if he would like to come back home to yours before you kissed for the first time, his mind going blissfully blank for a small moment, before he crowded you against the nearest wall, deepening the kiss, both of you forgetting where you were for a moment until you heard the whistles from the crowd inside the bar.

Now he was here, in your apartment with his cock in his hand and you on your knees in front of him, your tongue out, your mouth wide open and he didn't waste any more time, slowly pushing his cock inside your mouth, groaning at the feeling of your warm lips closing around his length.

"What a good little... fuck," he chocked on his words, surprised as you pushed closer against him, his cock slipping down your throat, your eyes watering, yet he could see the challenge in your eyes.

This was going to be one fucking long night.

#six smutty sentence fics #Marcus Moreno x reader #Marcus Moreno #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #prompt mini fics

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trulybetty · 5 months

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Sunday Week In Review XIV

How's everyone doing? I skipped out on last week's update since it was a really slow week on all fronts for all the things for me last week. Things picked up a bit this week - but I'll be honest, I'm having a hard time finding my feet around here at the moment and finding a groove to get into.

Not sure if it's that time of year, a bit of a writing lull or what - but I've been a little meh, not in the sad sense - more like I'm a petulant child offered six different things and I turn my nose up at all of them because I don't know what I want lol.

Also trying to figure out a system for getting through my TBR list, right now it feels like it's out of control and there are only so many I can read in a week. Especially since I want to get through some of my physical TBR pile and dedicate a couple nights a week to offline reading.

Anyway, enough about me seemingly channelling Baby Truly™️ - on with the recap of the last two weeks!

T R U L Y U P D A T E S . . .

I did a second round of the 'First Sentence' ask game, which I absolutely adore! If you haven't done it before, I very much recommend it! If you do this, tag me so I can come throw a sentence at you!

Round 2

tim x cagney (f!reader)

jack x reader (f!reader)

joel x Charlotte (OFC)

dieter x bryony (OFC)

jack x reader (f!reader)

frankie x clementine (OFC)

W H A T I R E A D . . .

Delta Landscaping (Triple Frontier) by @rhoorl Jess' series has me on tenterhooks for every update and then on the edge of my seat waiting for more! This last update we entered the start of Frankie's arch and while it pulls at the heartstrings, I'm so here for it and what's to come next! Also, Benny entering his Rocky era (Jess didn't write this, I've decided it) is something I'm also very much ready for!

Paranoid Hearts (Javi P.) by @goodwithcheese This series. This series is just something else and I finally got my ass into gear to get caught up, and while on the one hand, I'm sorry I started so late on the other hand I enjoyed this smorgasbord of Javi and Tabitha.

he makes life better (Joel) by @wildemaven This is such a warm comforting hug of a fic that just seeps into your bones, that makes your toes curl in softness and you re-read more than once. This is everything fluff should make you feel and I adore each and every last part of this and will be re-reading this.

Headshots (Marcus P.) by @secretelephanttattoo I was not ready for this to end, but El gave our boy Marcus the ending he and his Ella deserved and it was both spicy and sweet. If you've not read this yet, I suggest you do. Also, peep her forthcoming wip... 🔎

Thrash Metal (Dieter) by @morallyinept Jett is back with another delectably mouthwatering smutty one-shot with our favourite deviant Dieter Bravo. This is sinfully indulgent and a must-read and one that lends itself to definitely more than one read.

Six and a half minutes - Frankie's version by @avastrasposts This one calls for a breakout of the Hot Ones gif for sure, because this was the mood the entire time I read this. If anything, Frankie is not one to back down from a challenge...

Medicine (Joel) by @goodwithcheese I was so excited to see Megan had written for Joel that I had to drop everything to read this over my coffee the other morning. I love everything about the dynamic between these two and how Megan illustrates the deep affection they have for one another through their actions as we all know our post-outbreak Miller is not one quick with his words. I hope this isn't the last we see of Joel here!

M E M O R A B L E P O S T S . . .

Heidi’s amazing mood board inspired by Sequins! 😍 I’m still in absolute awe of it and I love it so much! I think it's going to get a spot on my work desk this week! 💕

These thots had started off as Joel Thots, but have now morphed into Tim Thots and I'm not mad about it... might share a little snippet later 😏

@morallyinept's 'Ode to Writers' this week - I'm going to refrain from getting on my soapbox here (I'd be here all day) - but the table is not finite, it's infinite. If you're not inching your chair down to make room for another chair, or pulling the spare chairs in from the garage, then maybe you need to re-evaluate your relationship with this community.

E N J O Y E D T H I S W E E K . . .

Finally watching ‘Strange Way of Life’ and getting to live message my thots to @rhoorl as I watched - it was a cinematic dissection.

Date night with Mr. Truly - we spent the entire two hours wondering what people do on dates aside from watching their phones and waiting for a call to say your kids are out of control and have taken over Nakatomi Plaza. But needless to say, we had fun, I even ate a meal without someone else's hand in it.

Amazing moots being mooting awesome 🙌 - I'm thankful every day that I get to interact with some wonderful people and have found a lovely corner of this hell site to play in a sandbox with some amazing people 💕

S P E C I A L M E N T I O N . . .

Check out this writing challenge that myself and a group of people that I'm lucky to call moots created that we would love for you to join in on! Everything about it is random and everyone starts with the same parameters and everything else after that is up to you! So excited to see what everyone does with this!

Do I know anything about Javi Pēna? Nope. Am I going to join in? Yes I am! 🙌

See you January 1st to dive into all the fics this challenge I hope produces! 💛

T H I S W E E K ' S J A M . . .

Thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for inspiring this week's selection after she pointed out the parallels to Chiffon that I haven't been able to get out of my head since.

Hope everyone has had a great week! Here's to a great week ahead and I hope its a good one full of obnoxious drinks of choice and soft places to land and enjoy.

#betty's sunday in review #sunday week in review #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #Spotify

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historia-vitae-magistras · 5 months

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"Petty" for the wip game

This fic is actually complete. Short but thorough. I have a friend who really liked his Maria with my Matt, and this was his Christmas present one year, so it's old and kinda cringeworthy and kind of smutty, and I don't really stand by it anymore, but it's kind of nice, I think.

Vancouver, 1995

“I never noticed you don't own a rosary,” Maria asked him one morning. She lay in a beam of buttery yellow sunlight, and he thought of technicolour marigold altars. A riot of colours he wanted to paint her body in, maybe outlined in a bright, crystalline, sugar-skull white of the sheets. She is gold, in her real sunshine. “Or even keep one on the wall.”

“I'm not that Catholic.” He shrugged.

“Sure you are, tabernako,” The pads of her fingers rested on his thigh for a long moment. He thought she might want to go again, that the seven orgasms weren't enough, but she tapped him thoughtfully instead. His profanity was Catholic, sure. But he didn't know how to say that. It didn't mean he believed in much.

“I think the first thing I can remember my father giving me is a rosary,” She said. “White ivory and gold. It's in a museum now, in the capital.”

“It sounds beautiful.” He replied lightly.

“Antonio's a piece of shit, but he has good taste,” Mari stretched, her entire body arching in a way that made him itch to paint. “At least the Catholics have an aesthetic.”

“I think I've got a higher rate of protestants than you, though.” Matthew pointed out. “I'm not so Catholic anymore.”

Mari laughed like the porcelain bells that he often saw on the porches of her neighbours. “You apologized when I only came six times. If that's not Catholic guilt I don't know what is.”

He snorted and shrugged again. “Just making up for what you spend on dairy when I come over.”

“You do consume more crema than anyone I've ever met. Even for a white boy.” She pondered this a moment. “Mostly white boy. Whatever. So you don't have them? Or you've never had them. The worry beads, I mean.”

“I have one.” He said, standing and opening the old trunk at the end of the bed to take it out from where it still lay. Father had never approved of it. Black and wooden and plain, he'd carved it from Scottish oak scraps while stuck in bed after the handover.

“It's pretty.” She said. It wasn't, and they both knew it, but he thanked her anyway.

“Monsieur Bonnefoy gave me one when I was born.” He said. “Black stone beads. It had his bulla in the center. Rome gave it to him, I guess. It was set under a plate with the virgin stamped in iron to attach it. To keep me safe.”

“Thoughtful of him.” She said dryly. "Strange how they're always squabbling over the sons of Rome."

He flushed, thinking of France's invasion in the 1860s. “Sorry.”

“What happened to it?” She said, batting his apology away with a wave of her hand. She rolled onto her back, her hair a cloud of wildfire smoke around her golden face, and he pillowed her head in his thigh and leaned against the headboard, playing with her hair. She liked that, she'd said once because he didn't mess with the pattern of her curls. “In a museum in Ottawa?”

“No,” Matt said. “He took it back. It was in their agreement, his and Father's. Monsieur Bonnefoy took his name and his protection back. Property too, but his politicians had already taken that back when they fled anyway. So my rosary and a few little odds and ends went back in a box. I had a set of apostles spoons from Uncle Alasdair he took back too, even though my uncle was my godfather.”

“That's petty.”

“That's Monsieur Bonnefoy for you.” Matt shrugged.

“I suppose at least you're not still paying him for the privilege of being colonized.” She said.

“Did your father take anything back?”

“You mean besides the pile of silver he dug out of me?” She raised a brow.

“Ah,” Matt said, feeling guilty all of a sudden. Maybe he was Catholic. “I just kept Elizabeth on the money and Dad's content.”

“Aren't you a lucky one,” She teased. “Now, why don't you get back down there and make your brother jealous all the way from Japan.”

“Well,” Matthew grinned, his angsty bullshit mood gone in a moment. Her thigh was warm when he kissed it. “He did say we had to get to know each other.”

“I'd—” She gasped. “I'd say we're getting…” The little intake of breath she made was better than praise. “To know each other.”

Send me a word, if it’s in one of my wip documents I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in

#the ask box || probis pateo #Maria and Matt || Al mal tiempo buena cara #my writing || cacoethes scribendi

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kandisheek · 3 months

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FIC REC WEEK 6 - SMUT

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: blue_jack

blue_jack is so fricking good at writing smut, it should be illegal. I found them through their A/B/O medkink series and have since read their entire fic catalogue multiple times. I love absolutely everything they've ever written, but I'm going to restrain myself and only rec six fics.

Here's some of their work that I think you should check out:

Chapter 19

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 5,098 Tags: Sex Pollen, Dubious Morality, Mistaken Identity

Summary: Anyone who was anyone knew about Captain America.

Reasons why I love it: This whole fic absolutely feels like something that Tony would do in canon if given the chance, little Cap fanboy that he is. Don't let the dubious morality turn you off – Tony mostly just isn't forthcoming about who he is exactly. But it all works out in the end. Definitely give this one a read if you haven't already!

Some Kind of Madness

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 6,630 Tags: Descriptions of Titfucking, Drunkenness, Bottom Steve

Summary: “Mmm, Steve, I love your tits.”

Reasons why I love it: Steve discovering a new kink he never knew he had and getting all embarrassed about it? Sign me the fuck up. Steve's crush on Tony is really sweet in juxtaposition to how hot he is for him at the same time. I love everything about this fic, and I bet you will too!

Just a Whisper

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 2,264 Tags: Sex Toys, Voyeurism, Bottom Steve

Summary: Tony’s always had a little voyeuristic streak in him.

Reasons why I love it: Their dynamic in this is so great. Tony enjoying the visual buffet that is Steve Rogers, always a huge win in my book. And the last sentence never fails to put a smile on my face. I love this fic so much, definitely go and check it out for yourself!

Leave Your Marks Written Upon My Skin

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 2,942 Tags: Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/Sub Elements

Summary: “I want you to keep your hands right here, alright?”

Reasons why I love it: This one is just really fucking hot. Mirror sex and Tony playing with Steve like his own personal toy? Hell yes. Check it out, you won't regret it!

Take Care, I'm Easily Broken

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 6,151 Tags: Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Time

Summary: Tony isn't the type of person to pine quietly.

Reasons why I love it: This fic, Jesus Christ. It'll break your heart and then mend it with smutty superglue. The characterization is so on point, and both Steve and Tony deserve a good long hug after that ordeal. But they get there in the end. Please go and read this one, it's so good!

Touch Me, I Wanna Be Dirty

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 4,001 Tags: First Time, No Refractory Period, Switching

Summary: Tony’s not going to deny that he’s ridiculously excited. Steve. In his bed. Naked. Everything is rainbows and nothing hurts.

Reasons why I love it: The banter in this is so funny, and I love how Tony just rolls with the punches when it comes to Steve's hairpin trigger. Also, Tony's way of comforting Steve when he gets embarrassed is so sweet, it makes me want to grab them and squish them together. This fic is so good, you definitely have to read it!

#marvel #stony #fanfic #fic rec #fanfic rec #ficrec #a year in fanfic recs #smut

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id-rather-be-an-outsider · 8 months

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Unwitting Victim

true form!Sukuna x AFAB!Reader

summary: y/n’s been dating Yuuji for awhile, and when things are getting hot and heavy for the first time, someone who is NOT Yuuji takes the lead.

word count: 2783

a/n: love me some Sukuna and got inspo to write this 😩💕 SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, not really plot tbh, warnings for non-con, vaginal penetration, oviposition, voyeurism, cheating??? ehhh that’s it I think

taglist: @quiveringdeer and @haylzcyon (thank you for encouraging me to finish this when I sent in that ask! I am proud of it) if you would like to be added to my JJK or Ryomen Sukuna fic list, let me know!

When we get home from our date, I plop my keys into the tray and throw my purse on the nearest chair, shrugging my coat off to put it in the same spot. Yuuji asks, “How did you like it?”

I lung at him, grabbing him by the collar and kissing him fervently. “I loved it.” I say, giggling.

Yuuji smiles into the kiss, and his hands snake around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “So what you’re saying is,” He says, pausing in between kisses, “I should do that some more.”

“And you should fuck me tonight.” I reply, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

His face slightly pulls away from mine. “Y/n. Are you sure?”

I pause, staring at him in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Again, Yuuji?”

Yuuji stammers. “I- I- I just thought that- m-maybe we should wait a bit longer?”

I close my eyes and sigh. “Yuuji. We have been dating for a year. We have been living together for six months. It is very clear that you are not asexual, given that you will let me give you head, and given that your dick is hard as a brick right now. At first I thought you were just being a gentleman. But I have needs too, Yuuji. Why won’t you have sex with me?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, baby, it’s just- it’s complicated.”

“I am so sick of things being complicated!” I burst out, but I don’t really care that I’m yelling. “What have I done wrong, Yuuji? Tell me. What have I done wrong that you refuse to have sex with me?” I say, the tears welling up in my eyes. I blame the hormones from being needy and denied.

He won’t look me in the eyes. “It’s not you—“

“-Don’t!” I cut him off. “Don’t even finish that sentence. I’m done, Yuuji.” I say, grabbing up my things again.

“Y/n! Y/n!” Yuuji says, but I don’t respond. I’m so over this whole relationship where he acts like he wants it all, yet he’s the only one who gets to experience pleasure. I pull the door open, but it slams closed in front of me, Yuuji pinning me between his arms as I whip around to face him. “Fuck, y/n. You don’t understand. I-” He cuts himself off, thinking better of it. “Fuck it.” He kisses me again and I lean into it, dropping my things as he hoists me up by the ass, walking me to the bedroom. He tosses me on the bed, we both rip our clothes off, and he’s back on me in a second. I can’t help but admire his chiseled body with every touch and trace of my finger. I reach for his member, antsy to get going, but he stops me. “Wait. I want to make you feel good first.”

I smile at him with trust, and close my eyes. Within seconds, I gasp, feeling his mouth find my clit almost instantly. Is he sure he hasn’t done this before? However, I’m frozen in place for a second when I feel his lips on mine at the same time. My eyes fly open, and the Yuuji I see is suddenly different. Covered in tattoos, four red eyes, four arms with claws for fingernails, and when I look down, a giant mouth on his stomach, and two penises, fully erect. My voice catches in my throat, and he grins, his second mouth still hard at work on my clitoris. “Ah!-” I start to scream, but he covers my mouth with one of his hands, laughing in an entirely different voice.

“No one can help you, y/n.” The shock in my eyes must be apparent, because he laughs, and says, “I’m Sukuna — the demon living inside Yuuji. I’m what he’s been worried about this whole time.” He’s holding my waist with his lower arms, rubbing circles into my hips with his thumbs and leaving a pinch every time his claws graze my skin.

His second mouth is still hard at work, and I thrash, trying to escape, but it’s no use. He has me pinned down in every way possible. “Let me- ah!” I moan mid-protest as the tongue from his stomach-mouth shoots into me, twisting around and paying attention to all sides of my delicate walls.

“Your moans are so pretty… and based on what I can feel, you’ll be able to fit me — just barely.” Sukuna leans forward, some of his pink hair falling toward me, but not close enough to touch me. “And that’s exactly how I like it.”

His upper arms have moved to grip my breasts, and when he squeezes I cry out. “Ow! They’re sore, please!” He loosens his grip, and then I feel two more pairs of lips on each of my nipples, making me gasp. Not out of real surprise, but due to the sensation.

“You like that, pretty girl?” Sukuna murmurs, “I’ve been watching you from the shadows for so long, I know just what you like. At night, when you touch yourself because of that brat’s neglect, I can hear your whimpers, and I can see what you’re doing under the sheets. While Yuuji was busy trying to keep you all to himself, I’ve been biding my time, learning what exactly makes you tick.” The tongue from his stomach dives deeper inside of me, hitting a spot that makes my whole body jolt.

“Please, please!” I beg, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Please what?” He says, eyes staring into mine as a sadistic grin is plastered across his face.

“I- ah!” A particular sensation causes my back to arch up off the mattress, and this looks to drive him mad with lust. Sukuna leans down, kissing me, and with all the hormones and endorphins coursing through my body, the same exact ones that have been there for Yuuji, it’s harder and harder to tell myself this isn’t the man I love. “Y- Yuuji…” I groan out, and Sukuna bites my lip, drawing blood as I wince from the pain.

“Sukuna. Say my name, y/n. Say my name and I’ll make you feel better.” He whispers into my ear, and shivers flow throughout my spine. His tongue stalls inside of me, and in that moment, I can’t bear it. I’ve been getting no action for over a year, and then this person comes along who looks exactly like him, excepting monstrous mutations, and knows all the perfect things to do… when Sukuna speaks, he says, “Let the monster in, y/n.”

Please forgive me, Yuuji, I think to myself. “Please, Sukuna, please keep going!” I plead with him, and his laugh is blood-curdling as his tongue pops out of me, his saliva and my liquids trickling in his wake.

“Good girl, y/n. Yuuji won’t know a thing — he thinks you and him are having great sex right now.” He presses one of his heads into the entrance of my hole, and I see that he intentionally is leaving his upper penis out of the action.

“F-uck!” I say when he starts pressing into me. I understand now why he didn’t try to use both at once. As he penetrates with one, his other penis drags along my clitoris, as evidenced by his exposed head gliding through my folds at the same time. He’s slow and surprisingly gentle, and even though he looks enormous, my body is readily adjusting to fit him, nice and snug.

“That’s right, take it all. I know you can, baby.” His mockery of Yuuji’s pet name for me sounds like honey on his poisonous lips, and I find myself drunk on it. His head reaches my clit, and I realize he’s halfway in. At an agonizing pace, he pushes himself the rest of the way in, and I moan, grabbing his back and scratching him as I feel his cock sliding along on my clit at the same time.

He starts pumping, and the feeling of him pushing through my gummy walls, my clit being caressed, and the sounds of my juices squelching with every stroke is more than enough — I know I won’t last long.

His hands are moving all over my body, sucking and leaving hickeys wherever they so please, and Sukuna’s settling into an even pace. “I’ve wanted to fuck you like this ever since I first laid eyes on you, y/n. It was so annoying, waiting for that idiot to get a clue and make his move. You feel perfect, my toy. I’m going to use you and abuse you like this forever — filling you up and creating my own army all the while, and when my strength is all returned to me, Yuuji will never stand in our way again.”

“S’kuna…” I pant, hearing his filthy words, feeling the way my breasts bounce with every thrust, my clit being rubbed in rhythm with his pumps, it makes my pussy flutter around him, trying to pull him in and keep him there. I kiss him, and when I feel his tongue prodding at my lips, I open up for him to take full control of me. His tongue starts pumping in and out of my mouth, traveling up and down my throat, almost making me gag, but never to the point where I can’t handle it.

He’s a monster, perfectly built to absolutely devour someone in the bedroom. The thought of how this must look — a person twice my size, completely covering me in his marks as his dick pistons itself in and out of me with increasing speed, the lewd noises of my moans and his grunts and wet slapping of skin against skin, the smell of two bodies making filthy, adulterated love — it nearly pushes me over the edge.

“Su-ku-na-” I whine in between his tongue’s pumps into my throat, “I, I’m close.”

He pulls his tongue back and says, “And I’m nowhere near finished with you.” When I try to grind myself into him, he laughs. “You can finish, as long as you know that I won’t stop until I’ve had my fill.” The thought of him fucking me stupid makes me clench around him. “Oh? So you’ll like being my little fuck toy?” He laughs, and it reverberates through my whole body.

He speeds up, and I chant, “Sukuna, Sukuna! Fuck, Sukuna!” With every pump, I feel a knot building inside of me. He whispers disgusting things into my ear, combined with the throbbing of my clit from every drag, and he keeps hitting the same spot, deep within me, and I’m still fluttering around him, and the squelching, oozing noise is louder and louder, and I’m right there-

“Oh fuck, Sukuna! I’m!-” I tip over into the abyss. The rubber band snaps as I reach my orgasm, and my entire body shakes uncontrollably as my pussy clenches and unclenches around his cock that hasn’t stopped at all, that is pushing my orgasm back into me as it leaks out, overwhelming me and making me insatiable, because it feels so, so good, that I’m sobbing as he pushes on.

“Cry for me, y/n. Cry for the monster that makes you cum like this, on his giant cock, for all of your neighbors to hear through these thin ass walls. I bet you didn’t know it, but I can hear two of your friends on either side of these walls fucking themselves to your mewls, and they have no idea that I’m the one doing this to you.”

“Sukuna…” I obey his command, and I don’t have time to build up again, because the overstimulation combined with the vision of two people I’ve secretly thought about in my fantasies is already sending me over again. “Sukuna, please!-”

As I’m cut off by my own orgasm, I feel his dick forming some kind of a bulb at its base. “You’re going to carry my seed, y/n. Right under all of their noses, you’re going to incubate my army, every day, and they’re never going to know that your pussy is what’s responsible for killing all of them, because you’re under my seal, and will never be able to tell them. Isn’t it just… exhilarating?” Realization at his words fills me with shock, but it’s a short-lived feeling as I’m dragged back under his spell by feeling the bulb start to work its way toward his tip, stretching my walls even more than they already were, the bulb itself covered in ribbing. It leaves me caught in my second orgasm, unable to come down. “Sukuna, what is…?” I ask him, my words slurred.

“This is the seed for my first soldier. It is designed to take in your cum, and develop over the course of a night. When it is ready to leave and develop on its own, it will vibrate, triggering an orgasm from you that will allow it to push down and out. It will grow in size, then travel to its designated holding area. Then I will repeat the process in the morning, producing two soldiers per day. Of course,” He says while thrusting into me, “If you like how it feels, we can always do more.”

When it reaches his tip, his pumps are sloppy, more erratic, and it makes me want it even more. I hook my feet together around his back, grinding myself against him and moaning from the sensation of that bulb rubbing right against my G-spot. “Sukuna!” I scream, and as his seed shoots into me, I feel his body shudder as he buries himself inside of me, prompting me to spill over once more, creamy white liquid seeping out of my folds around his cock.

As we both come down, he says, “I have to leave you soon. Yuuji came forever ago in the illusion I gave him, and he’s finishing up round two as we speak.”

I’m hazy, but I’m still cognizant enough to remember what he said earlier as he pulls out of me. “I’m- are you really using me to create an army?”

He gazes at me tenderly, fondly, pityingly. “Oh, pet. I know it’ll be hard for you to accept, but that’s why I took the burden of guilt off of your shoulders.”

“How am I not going to feel guilt? I’m a traitor now!” I say, and feel tears of anger, of hurt, of remorse welling up in my eyes.

He reaches forward, wiping them away, and I freeze up, scared of how similar it feels to Yuuji’s touch. “You can’t be a traitor when you’re a victim — a curse forcing itself upon you over and over again, using you for its own means, and you’re barred from revealing the truth to anyone. Who would blame you, even as they die at your feet?”

He pauses, feigning thought. My lip quivers and my nostrils flare as he continues, “Of course, the real deciding factor would be if you like how I make you feel.” He grins sadistically, as if he can taste the turmoil brewing in my gut. His words are like a knife to my heart, and I find I have no words to defend against them.

He stands, and in this, I can tell he is not my Yuuji. His demeanor while walking to the bathroom is entirely different. He looks back over his shoulder, and his red eyes and glossy white fangs gleam at me. “Best to keep that part to yourself, then, lest they confirm you as the betrayer you really are.” He slams the door and I jump, bursting into tears and sobbing, feeling sorry for myself and hating the blood coursing through my veins.

“Y/n! Y/n, what’s wrong?” Yuuji’s voice returns through the door, and when he opens it I cry even harder. He runs to me, grabbing me into his chest, and even though it would normally make me feel better, having the person I love most comfort me right now makes me feel disgusting.

He kisses the top of my head and says, “If I did something wrong while we had sex, you can tell me, and I’ll fix it.”

I shake my head and sniff, wiping away my tears. I at least need to act like everything is okay. “No, you did nothing wrong. I just… I guess I’m just emotional after the fact.”

“Okay.” He hugs me tighter, sighing as he does. “I love you.”

My response is a whisper, as my mind clouds with the full gravity of the situation. “I love you too.”

#outsider writes #fanfiction #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut

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