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obsessivevoidkitten · 4 months

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How The Elf Saved Christmas

Yandere Rudolph The Red-Nosed Deertaur x Gender Neutral Elf Reader CW: Painful Noncon, nonhuman genitalia, size difference, possessive behavior, possessive sex, jealous behavior, general yandere behavior, rut cycle, reader fucked big stupid, overstimulation, cum as lube, mention of musk Word Count: 1.3k (This is your Christmas gift from me, I hope you enjoy it <3)

It was one of the earliest years since the start of the Christmas holiday. Rudolph had just recently joined the other deertaurs that drew Santa's sleigh. Not only did he have the magic ability to fly like the others, but he also could produce a fog and snow dispelling light from his nose. He was perfect to lead the sleigh.

Well... almost perfect.

A week into December, he started acting out. Behaving aggressively towards the other deertaurs, secluding himself, and acting unusually possessive over the elf who had been assigned as his servant.

That was you. You brought him his meals and made sure he was comfortable. Normally Rudolph was very low maintenance and your job was exceedingly easy. He was always considerate of you and treated you very kindly.

But lately, Rudolph wouldn't let you out of his sight. And snapped at anyone who got near you, especially if you happened to walk by another deertaur. One time, he even looked as if he was about to stab at Blitzen with his antlers.

The reindeer even looked different. His normally kind brown eyes were more frenzied and dilated. The normally straight, soft, brown hair of his human half was unkempt. And his muscular human body was always tense.

The other deer-men knew what was going on. But it wasn't like they could get near you to tell you.

Rudolph was in rut.

And he had determined, subconsciously, that you were going to be his mate.

The other deer hybrids had gone to Santa and apprised him of the situation, but he chose to do nothing about it. Forcefully taking away a rutting deer's love interest could get very dangerous.

Besides, Christmas was fast approaching, and the fastest way out of rut was for Rudolph to satisfy his urges. And really, what was the comfort of one elf compared to the enormity of the holiday? Christmas was at stake.

In your employee contract, you had agreed to uphold the sanctity of the holiday and do everything in your power to keep Christmas safe and running smoothly. If that meant you had to be a cocksleeve for a deertaur to keep his head clear so he could guide the sleigh, then so be it.

But even Rudolph didn't know why he was so irritable or why he was so odd in his behavior towards you. Why the thought of you being near someone else or out of his side filled him with rage and anxiety.

You were completely distressed. Your boss was acting so differently towards you. You couldn't even return to your little hut. Normally, you would be dismissed at nights but Rudolph wouldn't let you leave.

Instead, you were made to sleep in his house and on his soft, low to the ground bedding.

One morning, about a week away from Christmas, you both learned why he was behaving in such an egregious manner.

Rudolph woke up before you did and something about the way you lay sprawled out with your butt up in the air and your pants slightly falling off. You woke something up in him.

All his instincts shouted at him to breed this elf that was presenting themself to him. To claim you as his mate officially.

Careful not to wake you, because he didn't want you to struggle until it was too late, he pulled your red and green pants and candy cane striped underwear down to your knees. Then he proceeded to lower himself over you until he was in position.

You were ripped violently from your dreams as extreme pain rammed through you. Rudolph, now at the height of his rut, had jammed in all in one go and with no prep.

Your tiny elf body squirmed and writhed in confusion and pain, the frantic struggles sending waves of pleasure through his cock which was embedded so well within you.

"Wha-what are you d-doing?" You squeaked out through the pain.

He didn't bother replying.

Rudolph's body was all you could see above you as his strong thrusts moved you back and forth below him.

The act was raw, instinctive, and possessive. Like your personhood was being fucked away by this being much larger than you until you were reduced to his property.

Screams for help barely escaped your body. They went unanswered. Even if someone had heard you Santa would have told them to steer clear.

You cried and sobbed, powerless to remove the brute who was raping you. Though it seemed he finally had noticed the cries of his partner through his rut.

He slowed down his pace, just a bit.

Snow elves were small but extremely resilient and adaptable. That fact, combined with a slightly slower rhythm allowed you to feel a bit of pleasure as your body adjusted.

"Fuck! You feel so tight! You're just so small~ Gotta fill you with cum. Gotta breed. Gotta breed. Gotta breed..."

You whimpered as the deer man lost himself in his carnal desire to fuck you silly.

He slowed down as he came in you, and you thought you could relax. You went limp, but before you could catch your breath he started pounding into you with renewed vigor, roughly pounding you into the bedding.

Cum leaked down your thighs as his heavy balls smacked you. The smell of his musk filled the air and made you a slight bit dizzy.

The seed from the first round of breeding had lubricated you nicely, and he slid in and out of you in a much more pleasurable manner.

"You take me so fucking well!"

Your crying and sobbing gradually turned into gasps and shudders of pleasure as over the course of the next several hours you came over and over until you couldn't react anymore.

You just lay there and take, completely senseless and overstimulated. Weeping not from pain but from the sensations of seemingly endless mating.

Finally he came in you hard and left himself in a while before pulling out completely. His dick left you with a lewd squelch as at least a gallon of semen dripped from your well worn hole.

For the first time in weeks he finally felt somewhat clear headed.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry."

Rudolph picked you up, cleaned you, and fed you. You were too tired to protest.

The deertaur was remarkably tender for someone who had just taken you against your will, treating you like a snowflake that would vanish under the slightest mistreatment.

It was odd being served by him for a change. But you were too out of it to really give it much thought.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more gentle. But I'm not sorry that you're my mate now."

He was still in rut, and every single day leading up to Christmas Eve, he made you endure an hours long breeding session. You smelled just like him. As if his scent was ingrained in you at a cellular level.

Luckily, his rut ended just in time for him to be able to complete his job, guiding the sleigh without a hitch.

You tried to escape while he was out with Santa, but the higher up elves informed you that you had a new assignment.

You had to live with Rudolph permanently to make sure he never got wild again. His partner had to live with him. If they took you from him now, even outside of rut, he'd go insane. And he performed a very important task by leading the sleigh.

You should have felt honored. Not many elves got to personally save Christmas.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #yandere monster #gender neutral reader #male yandere x gn reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere monster boyfriend #deertaur x elf reader #yandere #yandere scenario #yandere scenarios #Yandere Rudolph #yandere christmas #Yandere christmas 2023 #Merry Christmas 2023

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peachesofteal · 5 months

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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Your apartment floods. Inspired by and for @liliumbosniacum

"I need to take leave."

Simon's phone is pressed against his face, one hand holding the device, the other with a canvas bag in his hand, it's contents overflowing: blankets, baby clothes, your pillow.

"Everything alright?" Price sounds suspicious, but more curious than anything, and Simon sighs.

"Neighbor's flat flooded. She's got nowhere else to go so I'm letting 'em stay with me for a while." Price, thank fucking god, doesn't push it any further, disconnecting with a rumble about checking in with him next week, wishing him a happy holiday, and a parting good luck.

When he hangs up, you're standing hesitantly in his doorway, pile of clothes in your arms.

"That the last of it?" He asks, and you nod.

"Are y-you sure this is okay?" You're still upset, shaken, and he doesn't blame you. You were terrified when you woke up to bone chilling, ankle deep water, frantically shouting about a burst pipe into the phone over Emmaline's shrieks.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I've got plenty of room." He does. His flat is larger than yours, and though they're both two bedroom floor plans, his bedrooms are bigger, and he has two bathrooms, compared to your one. "I got the crib reassembled in the guest room." He motions to the door that's half opened, a few bags of Emmaline's stuff collected on the floor.

"Thank you." you murmur, and then step forward, burying your face in his chest. He holds you there, rubbing your back, working his thumb into the knot that sits at the base of your neck. “At least we saved the tree,” you laugh, wet and sad, and he hums, bowing to press his lips to your forehead.

“I’m sorry love.”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Nothing I could control.” You’ve got a point there, and he appreciates the approach, marvels at your ability to not be angry or frustrated with your neighbor, even though it wasn’t really their fault as well. He’s irritated for both of you, anxious over visualizing what would have happened if the chunk of the ceiling that fell was misplaced and landed on you, or Emma.

You pull away, face twisted up into something that looks painful, tears on your lash line, and he frowns. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart, c’mon. It’s alright.”

“I know.” You cry, clamping your hand over the bridge of your nose and trying to turn away. “It’s just all her gifts we-were in my room and now they’re ruined, and-“

“Okay, so we’ll get more. We still have plenty of time.” He reassures, rubbing his palms up and down your arms until you come back to him, letting him fold you back into his embrace. “We’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

“We will?” You sniffle, and he nods.

“I’m on leave, until after the holiday, so I’ll be around, we can go shopping and replace everything. It’s going to be alright. I promise.” That word slips out of him again, promise. I promise, just like he told you this morning when you were frantic and he said it was okay that you stayed with him, I promise, just like he assured last night when you apologized for Emmaline crying for most the evening. “Okay?” His chin rests on the top of your head, and he turns to kiss you, the touch as soft as he can manage. You hum, and then sigh into him.

“Okay Simon.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” His refusal is immediate, and you look at him in near exasperation.

“Simon I can’t kick you out of your bed! You’re too big for the couch, anyway, and I don’t mind, I’ve slept on a couch plenty. Plus I’ll be able to hear better, when Emmaline wakes-“

“Sweetheart.” You’re in the living room, bouncing Emmaline in your arms, walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. She’s wearing a red and white striped onesie, like a candy cane, and Simon chuckles when she makes grabby hands at him as he approaches. You sigh, and he tucks his hands under her, lifting her away and into his arms, pleased at how you instantly relax and stretch your back and shoulders in response. “Think you’re getting too big for mama, baby girl.” You roll your eyes, playfully knocking your elbow into his side, and he grunts. “You’re not kicking me out of my own bed.”

“No?” You turn with a hand on your hip, other one holding a half full bottle.

“No, well. I mean-“ he falters, suddenly losing his confidence. “I’m happy to let you have it, or…” He can’t get the words right, can’t communicate what it is he wants to tell you, too worried about scaring you off or being too forward, pushing you too far.

“Or?” You look so pretty, standing in his flat, your belongings, Emma’s, strewn about, just your presence alone making this place feel more like a home than it ever has before. He feels dizzy, overflowing with emotion when Emma lays her head down on his chest, and you smile at her, looking back up at him, delicate, sweet smile on your lips. He bends, tilting your face upwards to meet his, lips ghosting against one another as Emma coos from his arms.

“Or… we can share it.”

#me slowly pressing my dolls together like #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

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fictionasplacebo · 1 year

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Unreasonably sexy while still looking mildly terrible... arcane has that shit down and that's why I love it so much

#unreasonably sexy man has a spine like a candy cane and looks like he needs a nap so bad...#who could ask for anything more

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ellemj · 4 months

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Candy Cane: 12 Days of Smut #4

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Warnings: profanity, stuck in an elevator, mentions of death, teasing, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I usually hate everything I write but this sure felt like some good shit while I was writing it. Hopefully it feels the same for whoever may read it. Thank you sooo much to @mashedpotatooooos for this beyond perfect prompt, as soon as she submitted it to me I was SCREAMING. So creative, so inspirational, thank you for feeding me with this brilliant idea.

A fucking candy cane. A fucking peppermint treat from the 1840s. That’s what’s going to be the Winter Soldier’s undoing? No. Really, it’s you. It’s the way you’re sucking on the damn thing. The way you’re wrapping your lips around it so sensually, savoring the taste with an innocent little gleam in your eye. That’s what’s going to kill him. He’s had enough.

The sound of a chair scraping along the hard floor breaks you out of your trance. Pulling your half-finished candy cane out of your mouth, you lift your gaze and look across the room to see Bucky silently disappearing down the hallway. God, he’s moody today.

“I bet that’s why they called him the Winter Soldier.” Sam scoffs. You raise an eyebrow at him as you resume your work on the candy cane. “Because his mood is always so damn icy.”

“That’s cute.” You say, refusing to dignify his bad joke with a laugh, although you have to admit, it was kind of funny. He’s right though, Bucky’s been a little extra moody this week. You’re not really surprised that he’d be someone who hates Christmas, it’s very on brand for him. It’s only three days away now and he hasn’t said a thing about it. The rest of you have been watching Christmas movies, having hot cocoa way too often, and at the very least pretending to be festive most days. But Bucky’s been staying in his room excessively more and frowning enough to end up on Santa’s naughty list. Something’s up with him. You’d have already asked what was wrong with him if you weren’t so annoyed at his inability to spit it out unprompted. The man is over a hundred years old but still has the communication skills of a teenager.

Only a few hours later, Bucky’s just finished up taking his frustrations out in the gym when you’re coming back from a run to the grocery store. You needed a few ingredients for the Christmas cookies you plan on baking tomorrow and there’s no better time to hit the grocery store than at night. Of course, just as you’re coming inside the tower, you see the elevator doors sliding shut. You rush forward, throwing your hand out to hold the elevator. Bucky lets out an audible sigh when he sees you step into the small space. He thinks about darting back out before the doors close both of you in, but he knows he’d have to explain himself if he did something that childish. So, he remains.

Bucky keeps his gaze trained on the screen above the doors, watching as it slowly counts each floor that you’re carried past. You, on the other hand, keep your eyes trained on him. He’s clearly just come from the gym, as evidenced by his dark athletic shorts and sweaty t-shirt. He doesn’t wear short sleeves often, so you take the rare moment to steal a look at his black and gold arm. That’s when he finally decides to give you a sideways glance. You’re just about to break the unusual silence by saying whatever pops into your mind first when the sound of grinding metal fills the air. You don’t even have a moment to brace yourself before the elevator practically skids to a screeching halt and throws you and your bag of Christmas ingredients sideways into one of the walls. You closed your eyes on impact, and when you blink them open again, you’re thrust into darkness. The power must’ve gone out. After just a couple of seconds, the very dim emergency lights kick on and you straighten yourself up, stepping away from the wall and trying to fully comprehend the situation that you’re in. Bucky’s analyzing you as you stand there, staring straight ahead in thought. You don’t look to be injured or very frightened that you’re trapped in such a small space, so he feels it’s safe to say that you’re not claustrophobic.

“The button to call the fire department isn’t even lighting up.” You say quietly, more to yourself than to the super soldier who stands a foot to your right. That means you’ll have to try your phones, and if those don’t work then you’ll be trapped in here until someone realizes that you and Bucky have been missing for too long.

“I’ll call Sam.” Bucky fishes his phone out of the waistband of his shorts and quickly types in his passcode, easily finding Sam’s contact since it’s one of the very few that he has saved. He’s just about to hit the button to put the call through when he notices the top of his phone displays a “no signal” alert. Shit. “No service.”

“Of course, no fire department and no phone service.” There’s a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice but you try your best to tamp it down. “W-what floor were we on before it stopped?” You know Bucky was watching the floor counter.

“Fourteen.” Suddenly, you can picture the elevator plummeting all the way down to the ground floor, killing you both on impact. However, the more rational side of your brain reminds you that elevators have emergency braking systems specifically designed to keep something like that from happening. You inhale a shaky breath and try to come up with at least a semblance of a plan in your mind, something to keep you from thinking too much about how you’re trapped so high above the ground in a little metal box. Bucky watches you closely as you move to sit on the floor, letting your back rest against the back wall and drawing your knees up to your chest. You begin rummaging through your little grocery bag and when your hand wraps around what you were searching for, you pull it out and begin opening the small package. Even in the dim light, Bucky can tell exactly what it is. Fucking candy canes.

“Do you want one?” You hold one out to Bucky but he gives you an almost displeased look as he shakes his head, staring down at the candy cane in your hand with disdain. So, not only does Bucky Barnes hate Christmas, but he even hates the most basic Christmas candy. You almost laugh to yourself at how ridiculous he is. He’s turning out to be an actual scrooge.

“Fine, more for me.” You unwrap the candy cane and lift it to your mouth, beginning to suck on the straight end of it. You’re not paying Bucky any attention now, so you don’t notice the way his jaw clenches and he averts his gaze as soon as the candy hits your tongue. He remains standing but leans back against the elevator wall, hoping the cold metal against his sweaty t-shirt might have the same effect as a cold shower.

It doesn’t.

Two minutes later, you’re still quietly working on your candy cane while Bucky has gone absolutely rigid. He has the back of his head pressed against the wall now and he stares up at the ceiling actually wishing that the emergency brakes would fail and the elevator would go crashing down to put him out of his misery. Why does it take you so long to eat those damn things? And how the hell do you not realize what you’re doing? Are you that naïve?

“Are you okay, Bucky?” Your voice is the last thing he wants to hear. He doesn’t even make a move to look down at you, because the fact that you’re already on the floor at the level of his dick and the fact that he knows what you look like when you’re sucking on something you really like will only make this situation that much worse. His cock is already fully erect in his thin athletic shorts, painfully so. The only reason you haven’t noticed yet is because you’ve been distracting yourself with your little snack and because Bucky’s shorts are so dark.

“Fine.” He croaks the single syllable out in just the right way to let you know that he is in fact, not fine.

“Okay, what is it?” You demand to know. Did Tony skimp on having emergency brakes installed and Bucky knows your death is imminent? Is the big scary man secretly afraid of heights or small spaces? “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I said I’m fine.” Bucky repeats the words through clenched teeth. Who would’ve known that such a private man would be such a bad liar? You push yourself up off the floor now and stand to your feet, turning to face him head-on. You’re just about to threaten to stab him with your little candy cane remnant when your eyes land on what it is that’s got him so worked up. The bulge in the front of his shorts is on full display, pulling the seams of the fabric so tight that you imagine Bucky’s incredibly uncomfortable right now. But…why would he be so turned on in such a shitty situation? Is it the fear? The adrenaline?

“Bucky—”

“Stop fucking talking.” He cuts you off sharply, finally snapping his eyes open and meeting your gaze. Even in the dim lighting, you can see the frustration painted over his features.

“No, tell me what’s up with you.”

“We’re stuck in an elevator.” He says plainly, closing his eyes once more. He really does suck at communicating. Obviously, you can see that he’s aroused. He knows that you can see it, but he’s still standing here in front of you pretending like he isn’t. As you stare at the stubborn ass that you’ve just barely come to know over the past year, all you can think about is getting on your knees and sucking the bad attitude right out of him. Maybe that’s what he needs. He clearly needs something. However, the fact that he won’t simply speak his mind and instead chooses to act like a moody fifteen-year-old most of the time still irks you. You want him to open his damn mouth and speak.

“Look at me.” Your voice is so calm and even that Bucky immediately wonders what you’re up to, but he doesn’t open his eyes. You take two steps so you’re standing right in front of him, and then you repeat yourself. “Bucky, look at me.”

“What part of stop fucking talking doesn’t make sense to you?” He snaps, opening his eyes. When his gaze meets your face, he’s met with the sight of you, dragging your tongue along the side of that damn candy cane and he nearly cums right there. He’s thankful that you can’t have possibly seen the way his cock practically jumped in his shorts when his eyes landed on your tongue.

“It’s the part where you think you can mope around here constantly and treat people like shit that doesn’t make sense to me.” You suckle on the end of your candy cane for a short second before pulling it back out of your mouth and adding one bold part to your little tiff. “It’s also the fact that you’re standing here with a hard dick while simultaneously acting like you can’t stand me. That really doesn’t make sense to me.”

Bucky lets out a sound of annoyance at the way you’re matching his attitude. He’s especially annoyed that you actually mentioned his dick, but he’s a lot more focused on fighting the urge to reach out and snap your precious candy cane into a thousand tiny pieces. You see the way his eyes keep flitting to your mouth as you enjoy your candy. Honestly, once you see the look in his eyes and pair that with the huge tent in his shorts, you don’t know how you didn’t put it together before. Maybe it’s because you fear you could die in this elevator, or maybe it’s because you’ve always sort of wanted to know what it’d be like to have such a strong effect on a man like Bucky, but an idea pops into your head that you just can’t seem to shake. You want to make him tell you what he wants. You want to force him to communicate with you, and then you want to reward him with everything he needs. Besides just being an irresistibly hot idea, it’s also a sure way to keep you from thinking about the elevator plunging into the basement at any given moment. You both need this.

That’s what leads you to sink down to your knees at Bucky’s feet. He thinks he’s hallucinating at first, but when he hears your light little laugh as you pop the candy cane back into your mouth, he knows it’s real. Your pretty eyes stare right back up at him as you slowly pull the candy cane out of your mouth, keeping your lips pressed tightly around it.

“Fuck…” Bucky mutters, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he feels a fresh wave of heat rush through his body. You haven’t even touched him yet he feels like he could have an orgasm on the spot. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not? You don’t like this?” You tease. You push the candy cane past your lips once more but he’s refusing to look down at you, so you take matters into your own hands. You hold the candy cane with your left hand while your right hand lands lighly on Bucky’s thigh, dangerously close to where he needs your touch the most. He inhales sharply and snaps his head forward to look down at you again. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you to stop with the candy canes.” He says harshly, giving you an icy stare. You laugh, but you can’t deny that he actually communicated something. So, you remove your hand from his thigh and fix the wrapper around your candy cane as good as you can before leaning over to drop it back in your grocery bag.

“Was that so hard?” You ask, returning to your position on your knees at his feet. He lets out an exasperated sigh, wondering why the hell you’re not getting back up.

“Are you going to stay down there until the elevator starts up again?” He narrows his eyes at you. You shrug your shoulders.

“Until the elevator starts up again or until you tell me what you really need, whichever comes first I guess.”

“I told you already.”

“Right, but that wasn’t all you needed.” You point out. He watches as your eyes leave his face and coast down his neck and torso, until your gaze lands on the taut fabric of his shorts. You’re perfectly eye level with his hard-on and it’s not making this situation any easier on him. He feels his cock twitch again from the way you’re looking at him. He weighs his options in his head. How bad would it be for him to cross this line? To tell you how badly he needs you to suck his cock the way you’ve been sucking those candy canes the last couple of days? It couldn’t possibly be that bad if you’re already on your knees offering it. If anything, he can at least feel better knowing you crossed a line first. Besides, what if you two never make it out of here? He knows you will, people get stuck in elevators all the time and you rarely hear about it killing people. But, what if? He can’t deny himself this potentially one, final pleasure.

So, Bucky learns to communicate.

“Fix the problem you created.” Bucky’s stare is cold and calloused, but the way his chest rises and falls at a quickened pace and the way his pupils dilate as he looks down at you makes you feel powerful. You test the waters, sliding your palms from his knees up his thighs and then curling your fingertips beneath the waistband of both his shorts and boxers. He remains focused on you, not giving you indication that he wants you to stop. So, you tug his shorts and boxers down until his cock springs free, nearly slapping against his lower stomach as your drop his shorts to his feet. Your eyes are glued to his impressive length, taking in the way precum is beginning to drip down his shaft and the way his balls look so full and heavy between his legs. He’s growing impatient, wondering if you plan to sit there and stare at it or do what you really want to do to it. He’s just about to showcase his impatience with you when you reach up and wrap your right hand firmly around his cock, holding it with just the right amount of grip as you give it one long stroke from the base to the tip. You tighten your fist around the head and let his precum lubricate your palm before stroking back down to the base and spreading the wetness around his shaft. The way his head falls back against the wall makes you feel high. You like having this kind of power over him. You wonder how much more power you might have if you used your mouth, but why wonder? Leaning forward, you continue stroking his cock with your right hand while you plant your left hand on his thigh and press your lips to the tip.

“Shit.” The curse falls from his lips so freely that you can’t stop yourself. The next thing you know, his cock is sliding past your lips and the tip is brushing against the back of your throat as you nearly fully deepthroat his entire length. You only have an inch left to go but you aren’t sure you can fit it all. Bucky looks down and sees your hesitation. He knows he should’ve restrained himself. He knows he should’ve let you take this at your own pace, but he needed it. He needed to feel your throat tighten around his cock. He needed to see how fucking pretty you’d look with every inch of him in your mouth. So, Bucky gently placed his right hand on the back of your head and applied a little pressure. Just enough pressure to make you swallow the rest of his cock. As soon as he felt your nose brushing against his skin, he pulled you back by your hair. His eyes roam over your face now, checking in to see if you’re okay. Your eyes are wide but your pupils are blown with lust. Not only are you okay, but you’re on cloud fucking nine. With the tip of his cock still in your mouth, you nod up at him, letting him know it’s okay to do it again.

Bucky guides his cock into your mouth again, pulling your head closer and closer to him until he feels your throat tighten as you gag around his length. When he tries to pull you away this time, you grip both of his thighs and stare up at him so hungrily that he groans at the sight. You don’t want him to go easy on you, you want him to take what he needs. It’s only a second later that Bucky puts both of his hands on your head and holds you firmly in place as he begins thrusting his cock into your mouth. He’s slow and careful at first, trying not to give you more than you can handle. But the first time you moan around his shaft, slow and careful goes out the window. He fucks your throat, letting his balls rap against your chin with every deep thrust. The obscene sounds and the way you fight to maintain eye contact with him sends him straight to the edge of his release so much sooner than he expected.

“I’m gonna cum.” He rasps, praying that you won’t want him to pull out. Although, he could easily picture himself cumming all over your pretty face. Your only response is to grip onto his thighs even tighter while you look up at him so submissively. That’s all it takes. Bucky gives your mouth one more thrust and then holds your head in place, with your lips wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. You feel every drop of cum as it trickles onto your tongue and down your throat. After a few more seconds, Bucky releases your head and watches as you sit back on your knees, swallowing everything that he gave you. When you lick your lips he swears he could go for round two already.

“That was so much better than a candy cane, Bucky.”

TAG LIST: @gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @nixxaswrld @ordelixx @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @claireelizabeth85 @fandomsfeminismandme @sunnyhummingbee @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @crist1216 @wlkdead

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier #12 days of smut

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andypantsx3 · 3 months

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idk when i will write this (i'm calling dibs on this set up btw) but i have a "there is only one bed" scene living in my head rn, where like shouto & bakugou are on a joint secret mission and somehow you fall into it, some random civilian they've picked up along the way and are forced to drag along for your own safety.

night falls and bakugou's gotten you the last room at some seedy motel that lets you pay all cash, and no one is pleased when the room is dingy and so small that it's taken up entirely by the bed. the one singular bed, that is.

"the brat sleeps in the middle, i'm not cuddling up to your candy cane ass," bakugou tells shouto gruffly.

shouto ignores him, watching you closely instead.

"i will take the floor if it makes you uncomfortable," he offers, the consummate gentleman. he's been the kindest of the two of them, throughout this whole ordeal, the one who'd pulled you out of the way just as you were about to be cremated. something in your heart clenches at the thought of him cold and alone on the dirty carpet.

"it's fine," you tell him, heart in your throat.

a tiny smile quirks his mouth, and bakugou scoffs behind you. you haven't known bakugou long, but you know enough to guess he's rolling his eyes.

it's quiet as everyone readies for bed, bakugou claiming the first shower. shouto takes the time to reorganize his pack and you help him divide up everything in the minibar between the three of you, everyone ravenous after the events of the day.

it's a relief to wash the grime off of you too, finally clean again after days. you're loath to redress in your same filthy clothes, but you have nothing else. you scrub the worst patches of grime off in the sink, resigned to a couple damp spots, before nervously making your way back into the bedroom.

you can smell the cheap hotel shampoo in bakugou's hair as you settle down between the two men, feel the heat of shouto's body next to you, still damp from his shower. there's barely two inches of space between you and either of them, the bed meant for two, not three.

"you better not fuckin' kick in your sleep," bakugou tells you, his voice a low rasp in your ear. you suppress a shiver at how close he is, but even that can't stop the way you roll your eyes in the dark.

"i'll aim towards you," you say, unable to help yourself. you can feel the exhale of his snort on the back of your neck, and you can't quite tell if it's amused or displeased.

shouto is the first to drift off, his quiet breaths growing even and deep and steady. you can just see the faint smudge of his long lashes fanning over his cheeks in the dim. he looks just as beautiful asleep as he does when he's awake, and your own cheeks warm at the idea of sharing a bed with this man. both of these men. bakugou is beautiful too, even if he's obnoxious.

you think bakugou is still awake when you finally manage to drift off too, but you're the first to awaken, the silver-grey fingers of early morning light barely sneaking beneath the drawn curtains.

in the night all three of you have drifted closer—much closer than is proper. you're wedged securely between them both, shouto a long, hot line against your back, bakugou's chest firm against yours. you're so close that you can feel both of their chests rise and fall as they breathe, feel the tickle of shouto's breath against your neck, bakugou's against your temple.

one of shouto's hands is fitted to your hip. you can feel the impression of every single one of those long, elegant fingers warm against your skin. one of bakugou's muscular thighs is wedged between yours, too, your legs tangled. it's hot between the two men—you can feel your skin dampening with the heat of their bodies.

you don't dare move, nerves—and something horrifyingly more pleasant—pooling in your gut. you lay like that for a long time, eyes closed, heart pounding, until bakugou shifts, rolling over and awakening with a groan. once he's reoriented himself, you feel him shove shouto off of you, too, cussing him out in a low, raspy tone, rough from sleep.

the cold where their warm bodies once pressed against you is a physical impression of the absence—and you think you feel the loss of their proximity far more keenly than you should.

#andie's writing #character: bakugou katsuki #character: todoroki shouto

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